Een verzameling korte verhalen, meestal science fiction.

Short Story: Leap Year

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(This is the English translation of my short story ‘Jezelf Tegenkomen‘. I translated it to be able to publish on CritiqueCircle, which has resulted in very constrcutive feedback, allowing me to rewrite the story. That being said – your feedback is welcome too!)

 

The attempt had been successful, he had returned where he’d started. The door reappeared, clearly visible, its steel handle looking almost ordinary, like from an old-school steel archive cabinet. He extended his hand to grab it. It was cold to his touch and felt charged, emitting an electric sensation that travelled up his forearm. The door opened, soundlessly, extended outward, pivoted on unseen hinges and sunk into the exterior of the device, leaving no trace.

Perhaps it would have been smarter to travel back in time, he told himself, instead of forward. The future is so full of uncertainty! What’s more, since the machine appeared to move back and forth only in time and not in space, he could have landed right on top of another – no, the same – time machine! Also, had that happened, he would’ve seen himself, he could have seen things that would have influenced his earlier decisions and would therefore have created a new timeline… No, he decided, while the future was a risk for sure, going back would’ve caused much more of a problem. He would have impacted his own future, and that of countless others. Whatever he would have done, he would have created a new timeline as soon as he would have arrived in his own past. His decision too travel forward, into the unwritten future, exactly three-hundred-and-fifty-six days, had been the right one.

Though his plan sounded smart, what did he know of time travel? He’d had less than a full day to study the machine, and having enjoyed his science classes in school and having read his share of scifi as an adolescent didn’t make one an expert. It hadn’t really been a surprise that his first jump had caused all sorts of issues. Within a minute of arriving, he had heard the hiss and crackle of a comms radio and the shouting of men outside his lab. They had started pounding on the lab’s steel door, soon after he’d heard the cold scream of a chainsaw, no doubt to start cutting through the door. How he couldn’t fathom, but clearly, someone had been expecting him.

He had no idea who these people were and what they wanted with him. What had been clear was that he had needed to get out there as quickly as possible. He had only had a few panicky seconds to recalibrate and set the temporal destination in the machine’s computer to bring about another jump, back in time. He had hit the down-button on the panel that controlled the year of arrival just once, stepping back quickly to avoid touching anything else. The machine had powered up, humming with invisible activity, and after a moment of fearful waiting, the green light had shown and he’d pushed the last button, taking him home.

The machine’s humm continued for a few seconds before it disappeared, leaving no indication that anything had actually happened. The sudden lack of noise made the silence almost palpable, like a physical presence. It was the perfect amplifier for Avram’s nerves. He felt his heart beating in his chest. He discovered he was breathing fast and shallow, in sheer panic. It brought about a deja-vu, one of those immersive and overwhelming memories one gets from a specific scent or sound. For a moment he was a boy again, enthusiastically sharing his ideas and plans with his friends and receiving laughter and derision in return. He heard them clearly in his head, calling him a freak and a loser, that he would never accomplish anything.

He shook off the feeling as his attention was unconsciously drawn elsewhere.

“Was it really this quiet in my lab when I left?”, his mind was asking him.

He pushed himself to remember what it had sounded like before he had switched the machine on the first time.

“The fan was running, I’m sure, but now it wasn’t. Something else… hadn’t there been a plane overhead? It would have been gone by now, but still…”

He walked from the machine room into the outer lab. It looked the same, everything where it should be. It seemed slightly darker than he remembered it being earlier. It had been a beautiful day, he had noticed in the morning as he came in. Hadn’t he shut the blinds, to keep out the glare? What’s more, the window he was now looking through, unhindered, had a view of the driveway, where he had parked his old Jeep that same morning. But somehow, it was no longer there…

Avram’s nerves got the better of him once more. Had something gone wrong with his trip back, despite his care? His fear of failing at whatever he tried came back with a vengeance. With a pounding heart and sweaty hands he looked around the lab again. There, above that workbench, was his day calendar. One of those that you rip a page off every morning to always know what day it was.

Tuesday, it said.

His stomach turned and he felt his knees weaken. Tuesday had been when he had found his time machine, out in the desert, and had brought it here in the back of his Jeep. He hadn’t used the machine until Wednesday, the day after. He had returned a day early!

Very clearly, something had gone horribly wrong. He would found out what it was later, right now he had a different problem. He had travelled to the past, while that was exactly what he had tried to avoid. Even though it was only one day, it could still cause terrible issues. The other Avram could be coming back with his find any minute!

He hurried back to the machine. He hastily shut the door, looked at the settings panels and froze for a minute, his fingers stopping inches away from the buttons. Finally, the importance of staying clear-headed, to not make another mistake, won out against his nerves. He analyzed the consequences of his earlier mistake and what options were available to him now. At this point, there were two of him, and there were two time machines. The other he could come back any minute and see him here in his lab.

Ok, that means he should leave. But where to go? To ‘when’? Going further back would solve nothing, even risk creating additional doppelgängers. Forward was really the only option. How far ahead? A week? A month? He decided to really throw the dice and set the machine to jump ahead three hundred years into the future. It sounded like a safe bet, and it would give him the opportunity to do some thinking without risking walking into another trap. Surely, nobody would be looking for him three centuries from now!

He sighed and relaxed a little. His arms felt like lead. His body was so tired, exhausted from the panic that had set in earlier. He had to really push himself to take those last steps, to press that final button, to escape. A droning started, the machine shook, then silence.

This time, something had clearly happened. Daylight now fell through the small window in the machine’s door. Looking out, he saw that he was now no longer inside the lab, but was standing outside on an abandoned parking lot. The time machine had shot forward three centuries, but was still in the same place as where the lab had once stood. It made him wonder what his lab had looked like directly after he had left. Probably like the machine had never been there in the first place. That would be correct or course, as only later that afternoon he would arrive with the machine in the back of the truck and with a lot of effort install it in his lab and connect it. But wouldn’t there be traces? A scorch mark on the floor? An ozone or ammonia smell? Something different? Did the fact that when he had installed the machine the day before he hadn’t seen anything odd or different mean that it hadn’t happened, or that it had and it had left no trace? Or had it happened in a different timeline, created by his arrival a day earlier than planned, where he did leave traces, and not in the original timeline?

His knowledge of physics wasn’t any help here but the many sci-fi novels he’d read as a boy told him the second scenario was much more likely. The problem remained that there were now two of him. To him, this felt like he was committing some sort of cosmic crime. He knew the world wouldn’t end if he ended up meeting himself, he found those ideas ludicrous, non-scientific, but he had more of a moral prejudice. This was something that you just had to avoid doing. Was there a way to merge the two separate Avrams? Probably not. Did that mean that he needed to…? No, he wasn’t going to go down that rabbit hole now.

The other problem was that he was now stuck on a deserted parking lot, three centuries into the future, not knowing where or when to go from here. He felt like a fugitive, a runaway. He was no longer in control, and that had not been how the day had started.

“Think!”, he chided himself. “I found the machine on Tuesday, on the next day I jumped a year, then somehow got back on Tuesday, to proceed from there to now. Therefore, I haven’t been back to lab since leaving that Wednesday. That’s it! If I come back then, there should be only one of me.”

Avram took his time, preparing everything in detail, making sure he wasn’t going to have his arrival overlapping with his departure in some way. Not making another error, like forgetting about leap years. He added another two hours just to be sure, and set the machine’s controls. He got the green light, hit the last button, leaned back, exhaled, and let the machine do its work.

Again this unnatural silence. Again the feeling that nothing had happened. Again, that nagging feeling of being a young boy, playing with grown-up things, expecting to get into trouble. He shook the feeling by forcing himself to focus on the here and now. Did he hear a voice? It was faint, muffled by the thick foor, but undeniably a male voice, a radio creaking. Shouting, something jogging the door handle.

“He’s here”, he heard, the voice closer than before now.

A man, dressed fully in black, was staring straight at him from within the lab, eyeing him intently through the machine’s small window. Another creak of the radio and a beep, indicating that line was open to receive a response. A tinny voice provided an inaudible answer. Avram focused all his energy on the voice, trying to hear what was being said.

A single word was intelligible here and there. “…Door…”, “…essential…”, “…machine…”

Then a second sentence, again garbled and unintelligible. The man at the door spoke once more.

“We’re almost through, what are your orders?”

Ironically, the answer was very clear this time. Avram felt a chill. The reply had been short and unmistakeable.

“Terminate,” the voice had said.

Perhaps Avram’s panic had never entirely left him. In a heartbeat, he was as focused and clear minded as before. He estimated having at most a full minute before the chainsaw which they would now surely apply to the door got through. Would the machine still work with a broken door? The risk was too great. He had to leave, now. He pounded on the year-button without looking at at he was choosing for his next destination as soon as the green light came on he almost broke the button as he rammed it, high on adrenaline. The machine shook, and emitted a low humming noise. A loud bang sounded from the lab, and Avram heard a scream of pain. More shouts now, both in surprise and anger, from outside the machine. A cold breeze seemed to appear in the confined space, and then silence.

The jump took longer than it had on earlier occasions. He suspected this meant that he was jumping very far into the future. He felt the rawness of his nerves now. He had experienced several panicky escapes in one day and it was taking its toll.

“I’m being hunted!”, he realized.

Avram had known instantly that the instruction to ‘terminate’ hadn’t been meant for the machine, but for himself. The soldiers that had been waiting for him one year ahead, were the same that had been there now, a year before. That could not have been a coincidence. What the hell was going on? Was he destined to become some criminal, and was the time police hunting him now for crimes he hadn’t yet committed? He laughed at his choice of the word ‘now’. Strange enough it had started to lose its meaning.

The machine shook again, the jump hadn’t finished. He felt a falling sensation, which stopped just after it had started. Then a jolt, and then nothing. Avram looked at the screens in front of him, but saw no indications, no messages, not even a single light blinking. Avram realized that he had not a clue as to how the machine actually worked or how to operate it properly. Was the machine exhausted by the massive jump he had just performed? Was it broken? Did it need to recharge? If so, for how long?

Avram decided to open the door and step outside. He found the machine standing quietly in a wide open meadow. The air fleet different, drier, charged with static electricity. The sun shone in a clear blue sky. As soon as his eyes had adapted to the brightness, he saw little black dots, regularly spaced in a geometric pattern, across the entire sky, as if there was a satellite every fifty kilometers. Perhaps this was true, weather systems, defense perhaps? Communications? It was strange, not knowing anything about this world. He was on the exact same spot as a minute ago, but uncounted centuries in the future. He was a traveller in a strange and unknown land. Somewhere he longed to get to know it, to walk around and discover. At least he was safe now. He couldn’t go back of course, but the soldiers that were out to destroy him were a thing of the past now – literally.

He had arrived in an empty grassy field, with a barn and a dirt road, a scene that could have easily come from the nineteen-fifties. It was unexpectedly quiet. Even in his own time it had never really been fully quiet. Now, after so many centuries of technological advances, he had expected a beehive, a cacophony of flying cars and talking machines, noise everywhere.

He saw a man, slowly coming towards him, a silhouette against the bright sun. It scared Avram. He turned and stared to run, away from the approaching stranger. A hundred meters or so away he saw two low shapes, hoping they were a sort of vehicle. He aimed for the nearest one. After crossing about half the distance, he could see that they were indeed vehicles and that one was floating about a hand’s breadth from the ground. When he was but a few steps away from it, an opening formed in its side. Without thinking or reducing speed, Avram dove in, head first.

The door closed itself – just like the time machine had done, leaving no trace of the door that he could see from the inside.

He had landed on a surprisingly comfortable coach, heart beating, full of adrenaline, still reeling from the narrow escapes, not yet down from his earlier panic. He turned on his back, looked up and then around, panting. The air in the vehicle felt cool. The was no sound here either, other than a faint hum that didn’t seem to come from one particular place but seemed to emanate from the entire car and that was more felt than heard.

To Avram’s dismay, the car patiently remained in place, floating above the ground. Avram pushed himself up, his arms shaking, faced forward, his belly pressed against the back of the front seat, watching where in a normal car the driver would sit. He found no steering wheel. The interior resembled a sitting room more than a method of transportation.

Perhaps it was a voice-controlled, Avram thought.

One by one, he called out the names of the major cities from his own time. Nothing happened.

He shouted “go!”, and again nothing happened.

He thought some more. He had nothing… He felt anger rising inside him. Anger at the stupid floating car, at himself for being powerless, anger at the world for treating him like this.

At his wits end, and rather cynically, he said “Might we perhaps leave now, please?”

With a jerk, the car sprang up, and started to rise into the still air.

Nervously, Avram scaned the area outside of the vehicle, furtively checking that he wasn’t being followed. He was so tense now that any fly, any bird would register as a threat.

On the interior side of the door, one of the screens had lit up. With his attention on the view outside, it took a few seconds for him to notice. He turned to see a shape, a growing area of light on a dark background. More detail started to appear, and bit by bit the contours of a face could be recognized. Once the face was fully visible, his heart almost stopped. He was looking into the tired looking eyes of his own face.

The face said “Hello Avram.”

He didn’t respond. He had no idea what to say. He mumbled a few words, not saying anything at all.

“I can see you’re surprised to see me here,” the face continued. “I bet you thought you’d escaped safely into the future, right?”

Avram sat staring at the screen, his mouth agape. The car was now at least a hundred meters up in the air, had stopped moving and was waiting for further instructions.

The other Avram continued. “Coming back from the desert, with the time machine in the back of the truck, when I got close to the house, I saw a flash of light coming from where the lab is. Isn’t that funny, eh?”

Avram felt his stomach clench, his mouth turned dry.

“Worse, when I came into the house I found the lab door half broken and there was this strong smell of vinegar!”

“Vinegar!..” Avram exclaimed, surprising himself with this involuntary remark.

“What was that? Yes, vinegar! I don’t know why, either! Anyway, clearly something had happened in the lab. It wasn’t difficult to conclude that the time machine must have had something to do with it, the one that was now still sitting outside in the back of the truck and which I had planned to install in the lab at about that time. Whether it was by accident or by design, the consequences where clear. There were now two of us. You knew that too – we’re the same after all. And I think you realise as much as I do that this is a situation that cannot be permitted to continue!”

This entire situation, this totally unreal conversation with himself, the raised finger, the smug tone like a teacher and the threatening undertone hit Avram like buckshot. It stirred up all his painful memories, it raised up all his fears, all of his shame and all of the guilt that he had ever felt – and suppressed. Overwhelmed, there was only one thing Avram wanted, to leave this place as soon as possible, to get away as far as possible from this unnatural apparition, this ghost, this copy of him that shouldn’t be.

In a moment of sudden insight, he shouted out for manual control. Obligingly, the vehicle turned part of the seat into a single chair, aimed forward, adding a steering wheel and a set of sliders and controls. He slipped into the seat, took the wheel and felt the car react. He slammed all sliders forward and the car shot away, up and ahead, at high speed. He piloted the craft away from a city he saw nearby and looked around for anything resembling a highway, searching for a way to escape.

The highway was easily found. It lay above him, like a white ribbon. It had no markings whatsoever, no signs, panels, lights or other indications for drivers. The dots he’d seen in the air and this car were obviously part of the same system, total traffic automation. He surprised himself again with his interest in the technology around him, even when facing mortal danger.

The moment he came near the highway, the vehicle’s automated systems took back control. A friendly sound followed by the steering wheel and the control panels being absorbed back into the car’s insides, the drivers seat turning back into the original comfy two-seater. Avram’s fear came back in full. It was a normal procedure surely, but having control wrested from his hands again felt like defeat, like surrender.

His clone’s face was still visible on one of the screens.

“I’m sorry, Avram. I’m taking over from here. That is probably best for both of us”.

The face looked sympathetic, almost sad. The car shook once more and left the highway. The other Avram’s face disappeared from the screen. Instead, a different screen appeared. It showed two dials, on what looked like a old-fashioned dashboard. One indicated the vehicle’s current height, which showed it to be around one kilometer now. The other showed the amount of fuel left, which was as good as none. He couldn’t avoid the cold truth any longer.

He had probably already known since his first run in with the soldiers, but hadn’t wanted to see it, hadn’t wanted to accept it. Now it was clear though: he was the one had originally made the mistake. He was the one that shouldn’t be, not the other one! He was the unnatural appearance, the ghost. He realized too that he – the other he that is – had been the one to send the soldiers after him. Apparently it was possible to see somewhere on the time machine’s dials where the machine had gone in previous jumps, and it had been easy to send out warnings for both dates.

But how? The machine that he had been using wasn’t the same machine as the one the other had? Unless one machine could exist in two separate timelines at once and therefore still be one and the same machine? That would explain how it worked, by being able to exist in two separate worlds. Interesting, but a little late for that knowledge to make much difference now.

He was falling now, car and all, down to a world that he would have loved to have discovered by himself. He saw meadows down there, cities, huge sparkling lakes dotted with boats, birds, it was all really very beautiful. More disappointed than angry or afraid, he accepted his fate. He realized that he would die being the oldest inhabitant on earth at that time by far. He found comfort here, knowing that he would have finally accomplished something unique in his life.

Short Story: Jezelf Tegenkomen

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(Dit korte verhaal heb ik in het Engels vertaald om het te publiceren op CritiqueCircle, waar ik zeer constructieve feedback kreeg waardoor ik het ny aan het herschrijven ben.)

 

Het was gelukt, hij was terug. De deur verscheen weer uit het niets. Duidelijk zichtbaar nu, met een stalen handgreep die bijna gewoon leek, als de handgreep van een stalen archiefkast. Hij stak zijn hand er naar uit. De greep voelde koud aan en leek een elektrische schok te geven. De deur opende zonder geluid, klapte naar buiten en verdween in de stalen wand.

Misschien was het slimmer geweest om een jaar achteruit te reizen, dacht hij, en niet vooruit. De toekomst zat vol met onzekerheden. De machine leek alleen in de tijd te bewegen en niet van plaats te veranderen ten opzichte van de grond waarop hij stond en het had dus niets gescheeld of hij was boven op een andere – nee, dezélfde – tijdmachine geland. Daarnaast had hij zichzelf kunnen tegenkomen, hij had van alles kunnen zien wat zijn eerdere keuzes zou beïnvloeden en dus een alternatieve tijdlijn zou creëren… Nee, dacht hij, hoewel de toekomst zeker een risico was, zou achteruit gaan nog veel meer problemen kunnen geven, dat wist hij ook wel. Dan zou hij sowieso zijn eigen toekomst hebben beïnvloed en misschien wel die van ontelbare anderen. Hij zou hij per definitie een nieuwe tijdslijn hebben geopend op het moment dat hij aankwam in het verleden, wat hij daarna ook zou doen. Zijn beslissing om naar de toekomst te gaan was de juiste geweest. Met zijn test-sprong van precies driehonderdvijfenzestig dagen vooruit had hij de toekomst in elk geval nog in eigen hand gehad.

Het klonk allemaal heel verstandig, maar wat wist hij nou van tijdreizen? Eén dag om de machine te bestuderen, op de middelbare school natuurkunde leuk vinden en vanaf jongs af aan SF-boekjes lezen maakte je nog geen expert. Logisch dat hij zich met zijn eerste sprong meteen flink in de nesten had gewerkt. Kennelijk was zijn lab in de toekomst een plek die strak in de gaten werd gehouden door allerlei ongure types, door de overheid of door allebei. Hij was nog geen minuut daar geweest of hij had een radio horen kraken, een paar mannen hard horen roepen. Ze hadden gebonkt op de stalen deur van het lab en niet veel later had hij de koude gil van een motorzaag gehoord waarmee ze de deur open wilden krijgen. Het was ze duidelijk te doen geweest om hem in zijn lurven te grijpen! 

Hij had geen idee gehad wie dit waren en waarom ze hem moesten hebben maar hij wist dat hij zich snel weer uit de voeten moest maken. Hij had maar een paar tellen de tijd gehad om de machine weer in te stellen en de terug-translatie voor elkaar te krijgen. Hij had precies één keer op de knop geramd die het jaartal bepaalde om het één getal lager te krijgen, hij was achteruitgedeinsd om te voorkomen nog iets aan te raken terwijl de machine zich klaarmaakte en had na een angstig moment van wachten op het groene licht op de laatste knop gedrukt, waarna de machine begon te trillen en te zoemen om hem weer thuis te brengen.

Het geluid was nog een paar tellen doorgegaan waarna de rust was weergekeerd zonder verdere aanwijzing dat er iets was gebeurd. Na het tumult van de machine was de daaropvolgende stilte bijna tastbaar, als een fysieke substantie. Het vormde een perfect medium voor Avram’s zenuwen. Hij voelde zijn hart kloppen en ontdekte dat hij paniekerig aan het hijgen was. Hij kreeg er een soort déjà-vu van, zo’n overrompelende herinnering aan vroeger zoals die wel vaker opkomt bij een bepaalde geur of een bepaald geluid. Even was hij weer een jonge jongen die iedereen enthousiast vertelde over zijn ideeen en zijn plannen en daarop uitgejouwd en uitgelachen werd. Hij hoorde zijn vrienden nog steeds roepen dat hij een niksnut was, een freak, dat hij nooit wat zou bereiken… 

Hij schudde het onplezierige gevoel van zich af. Zijn aandacht werd nu door iets anders getrokken.

‘Was het echt zo stil in mijn lab?,’ schoot het door zijn hoofd.

Hij probeerde zich voor de geest te halen hoe te geklonken had voor hij de machine de eerste keer vandaag inschakelde.

‘Er had een ventilator aangestaan, die hoorde hij nu niet. Er was nog iets… was er niet buiten net een vliegtuig overgekomen? Die zou nu al weg zijn. En toch… ‘

Hij liep de machinekamer uit de rest van het lab in. Het zag er vertrouwd uit, alles lag waar het moest liggen. Het was wel iets donkerder dan hij het zich herinnerde. Het was mooi weer, had hij die ochtend gezien. Had hij die lamellen niet dichtgedaan tegen de felle zon? Sterker nog, het raam waar hij nu ongemoeid doorheen kon kijken had uitzicht op de oprit, waar hij die ochtend zijn oude pick-up had geparkeerd en… die stond er nu niet.

Avram begon het weer benauwd te krijgen. Was er toch iets misgegaan met de terug-translatie? Het gevoel dat wat hij ook probeerde er altijd wel iets fout ging kwam terug. Met het hart in de keel keek hij verder rond in het lab. Daar, boven de werkbank, hing een scheurkalender, zo één waar je elke dag iets vanaf haalde, zodat je altijd wist welke dag het was. Dinsdag, stond er. Zijn maag kromp ineen en hij voelde zijn knieën slap worden. Dinsdag was de dag dat hij de tijdmachine had gevonden, in de woestijn, en hem met zijn pick-up truck was gaan halen… Hij was pas woensdag, de dag erna, met de machine vertrokken. Hij was een dag te vroeg teruggekomen!

Er was duidelijk iets misgegaan. Hij zou later wel uitzoeken wat, nu was er een ander probleem. Hij was het verleden in gereisd, terwijl dat precies was wat hij had willen voorkomen. Al was het maar een dag, het kon nog steeds voor allerlei vervelende complicaties zorgen. De andere Avram kon elk moment thuiskomen met zijn vondst!

Hij rende terug naar de tijdmachine. Haastig sloot hij de deur, keek naar het instelpaneel en weifelde, met zijn vingers net boven de knoppen. De noodzaak helder na te denken, om niet opnieuw een fout te maken, won het van zijn zenuwen. Hij analyseerde in zijn hoofd de consequenties van zijn fout en wat zijn opties waren. Er bestond nu een dubbelganger van hemzelf, en van de machine. Die ander kon elk moment thuiskomen en hem zien. OK, weg hier dus. Maar waarheen? Naar wanneer? Als hij nu verder terug de tijd in zou gaan, dan zou dat niets oplossen en nam hij het risico een derde dubbelganger creëren. Vooruit was dus de enige kans. Hoe ver? Een week? Een maand? Hij nam een wild besluit. Hij stelde de machine in om driehonderd jaar vooruit de toekomst in te gaan. Dat leek hem veilig, dat zou hem een kans geven om verder na te denken zonder gevaar te lopen in zijn eigen val te lopen. over driehonderd jaar zou er heus niemand meer naar hem op zoek zijn. Hij slaakte een diepe zucht. Zijn armen waren als lood, zijn lichaam was doodmoe na zijn paniekaanval. Hij moest zich inspannen om de laatste stappen te zetten en drukte uiteindelijk op de verlossende knop. Gezoem, getril, stilte.

—

Nu was er duidelijk wel iets gebeurd. Er viel daglicht door het kleine raampje in de deur. Door het raampje zag hij dat de hele machine niet meer in het lab stond maar ergens op een verlaten parkeerterrein. De tijdmachine was als één geheel verplaatst, drie eeuwen door de tijd geslingerd, op de plek waar zijn lab ooit stond. Hij was benieuwd hoe het er in zijn lab uit zou zien na zijn vertrek – waarschijnlijk alsof de machine er nooit had gestaan. Dat klopte natuurlijk ook – pas later die middag zou hij met de machine aan komen rijden en hem met veel moeite achter in zijn lab neerzetten en aansluiten. Zou er niet toch iets van sporen zijn? Een schroeiplek op de vloer? Een lucht van ozon, ammonia of iets anders? Hij zou het waarschijnlijk nooit weten. Of – en nu werd het wat metafysisch, besefte hij zich – omdat het al was gebeurd, en hij zelf in datzelfde lab de machine de dag erna had aangesloten, en toen niets had gezien of geroken, betekende dat dan dat de machine de dag ervoor dus geen sporen had nagelaten? Was het al gebeurd, en had hij het niet gemerkt, of was het in de oorspronkelijk tijdlijn nooit gebeurd en had hij door een dag eerder aan te komen een nieuwe tijdlijn gecreëerd waarin dit wel was gebeurd, en dus waarin hij dus wel sporen had kunnen nalaten? Zijn kennis van natuurkunde hielp hier niet bij, maar de kennis uit de met veel plezier gelezen SF-verhalen vertelden hem dat het laatste waarschijnlijker was.

Het probleem bleef dat er nu twee van hem waren. Voor zijn gevoel was dat een soort kosmische misdaad. De wereld zou heus niet vergaan als hij zichzelf zou tegenkomen, dat soort verzinsels vond hij onzin, niet wetenschappelijk. Het was meer een moreel voorgevoel, dat je dat nou eenmaal diende te voorkomen. Was er een oplossing om de beide Avrams ooit weer te laten samensmelten tot één? Waarschijnlijk niet. Moest hij dan…? Nee, daar wilde hij voorlopig niet aan denken. Het andere probleem was dat hij nu drie eeuwen vooruit op een verlaten terrein stond en niet wist waarheen, of naar wanneer, hij nu nog kon gaan. Het voelde of hij op de vlucht was, het initiatief niet meer had, en zo was de dag niet begonnen.

‘Denk na!,’ vermaande hij zich. ‘Dinsdag vond ik de machine, woensdag ging één jaar vooruit, kwam daarna weer op dinsdag terug om van daaruit direct naar nu te komen. Dus – vlak nadat ik wegging op woensdag ben ik niet meer in mijn lab geweest. Dat is het! Als ik dan terugkom, dan zou er nog maar één van mij over moeten zijn.’

Avram nam de tijd om alles goed te plannen zodat hij niet per ongeluk zijn aankomst zou overlappen met zijn eigen vertrek. Hij telde er voor de zekerheid nog twee uur bij op en bediende de machine. Hij kreeg groen licht, drukte op de laatste knop, zuchtte, leunde achterover en liet de tijdmachine zijn werk doen.

—

Weer die onnatuurlijke stilte. Weer het gevoel dat er niets was gebeurd. Weer even het gevoel een kleine jongen te zijn die met grote-mensen-spullen aan het spelen is en daarvoor zou boeten. Hij schudde het gevoel van zich af door zich geforceerd te focussen op het nu, het hier. Hoorde hij daar een stem? Gemoffeld en zacht door de deur, maar onmiskenbaar een mannenstem. Gekraak van een radio. Geroep, gerammel aan de deur.

“Hij is er,” hoorde hij nu duidelijk, duidelijk dichterbij.

Het was een man in een zwart uniform die in zijn lab stond en hem nu recht in zijn gezicht aankeek door het kleine raampje van de tijdmachine. Weer gekraak van de radio en een piepje om aan te geven dat de lijn open stond voor een reactie. Met een blikkerige stem kwam er een onhoorbaar antwoord van de andere kant. Avram spande zich in om te horoen wat er werd gezegd.

Hier en daar was een woord herkenbaar: “…deur…”, “…belangrijk…”, “…machine…”

Toen een tweede zin, weer moeilijk te verstaan. De man bij de labdeur sprak nu weer.

“We zijn er bijna door. Wat is uw instructie?”

Ironisch genoeg was het antwoord dit keer heel goed te horen. Avram’s hart stokte in zijn keel. Heel kil, heel eenvoudig had de instructie geklonken.

“Uitschakelen,” had de stem gezegd.

Wellicht was Avram’s paniek nooit helemaal weggeweest, want hij was meteen gefocust, helder. Hij schatte dat hij maximaal een minuut had voor de zaag die ze nu zeker zouden gaan gebruiken door de deur was. Zou de machine het nog doen met een kapotte deur? Het was een te groot risico – hij moest weg, nu meteen. Hij ramde herhaaldelijk op de jaarknop zonder te kijken hoe ver hij hem zetten en beukte bij het groene licht van de adrenaline de laatste knop bijna door het paneel heen. De machine trilde, een lage brom klonk. Er klonk een luide knal vanuit het lab en een schreeuw van pijn. Buiten klonken nu meer kreten, zowel van consternatie als van woede. Een koude windvlaag leek even door de kleine ruimte te gaan en toen was het stil.

—

De translatie duurde langer dan normaal. Hij vermoedde dat het betekende dat hij heel ver de toekomst in ging. Hij begon zijn uitgeputte zenuwen nu goed te voelen. Hij was vandaag al een paar keer in totale paniek met de machine weggesprongen.

‘Er wordt op me gejaagd!, realiseerde hij zich.

Avram had meteen geweten dat de instructie ‘uitschakelen’ niet om de machine ging maar om hem. De soldaten die hem bij zijn eerste sprong, een jaar vooruit, hadden opgewacht waren er nu, een jaar eerder, ook geweest. Dat kon geen toeval zijn. Wat was er in hemelsnaam aan de hand? Werd hij later een gezocht crimineel en had een soort tijdpolitie het nu op hem gemunt? Hij lachte inwendig om zijn keuze voor het woord ‘nu’. Dat begon gek genoeg steeds minder te beteken.

De machine schokte weer. De translatie was nog niet voorbij. Het leek even of hij aan het vallen was, maar dat ging voorbij. Een harde schok – en daarna niets. Avram keek naar de schermen maar zag geen enkel bericht, geen lampje dat meer brandde. Avram realiseerde zich nu ook dat hij vrijwel niets wist van hoe deze machine werkte. Was de machine door de uitzonderlijk grote translatie uitgeput? Was het kapot? Had het even pauze nodig? Hoe lang dan?

Avram besloot uit te stappen. De machine stond in een open veld. De lucht voelde anders. Droger, bijna statisch. De zon scheen in een helderblauwe lucht. Toen zijn ogen gewend waren zag hij in de lucht overal kleine zwarte puntjes, in een volledig regelmatig patroon, alsof om de vijftig kilometer een satelliet hing. Misschien was dat ook wel zo – weersystemen, of afweersatellieten? Communicatie? Het was vreemd niets te weten van deze wereld. Op precies dezelfde plek als een minuut geleden, maar ontelbare eeuwen later. Hij was als een toerist in een onbekend land. Ergens verlangde hij er naar het te leren kennen, er in te wandelen en het te ontdekken. Hij was nu in elk geval veilig. Hij kon voorlopig niet terug, maar de soldaten die zijn leven onmogelijk hadden gemaakt waren nu een zaak van het verleden. Letterlijk.

Het was onverwacht stil. Zelf in zijn eigen tijd was het nooit echt stil geweest – en nu na zo vele eeuwen technologische vooruitgang jaar had hij een bijenkorf van vliegende auto’s verwacht, lawaaiig, druk en vol. Hij was geland op een leeg grasveldje met een schuur en een weg, een tafereel dat zo uit de jarig vijftig van de vorige eeuw kon komen. Er kwam een man op hem aflopen, een silhouet in het felle zonlicht. Hij schrok ervan, keek snel rond, draaide zich toen om en zette het op een lopen. Er stonden honderd meter verderop een tweetal lage vormen, waarschijnlijk een soort auto’s en hij rende op de dichtstbijzijnde af. Vanaf een meter of tien kon Avram zien dat het voertuig een handbreedte van de grond af zweefde. Toen hij er nog maar een paar passen vandaan was vormde zich een opening in de zijkant. Hij dook er zonder verder na te denken en zonder te vertragen in. De deur sloot zich – net als de tijdmachine had gedaan – zonder een zichtbare naad aan de binnenkant om zich heen.

Avram was neergekomen op een comfortabele tweezitsbank, vol van adrenaline van de schrik en de paniekerige vlucht. Hij draaide zich op zijn rug, keek druk hijgend om zich heen. Het was koel in de auto, en helemaal stil, op een zachte zoem na die niet van een bepaalde plek leek te komen maar door de hele auto heen hoorbaar was. Tot ontsteltenis van Avram bleef auto geduldig zweven. Avram duwde zichzelf met trillende armen overeind en ging zitten met zijn gezicht naar voren, met zijn buik tegen de rugleuning aan, kijkend naar de plek waar normaal een bestuurder zou zitten. Er was geen stuur, en het interieur leek meer op een zitkamer dan een bestuurbare machine. Wellicht werd dit apparaat met de stem bediend, vermoedde Avram. Hij riep achterelkaar de namen van de grote steden uit zijn eigen tijd. Er gebeurde niets. Hij riep ‘gaan!’ en er gebeurde nog steeds niets. Hij dacht na. Hij kon door de stress even niets beters verzinnen… Hij voelde een boosheid opkomen, boos op de auto, boos uit onmacht, boos uit een gevoel van onrechtvaardigheid en uit totale wanhoop.

Cynisch riep hij ‘mogen we dan nu alsjeblieft vertrekken?!,’

De auto reageerde meteen.

Hij bleef achichtig om zich heen kijken of hij niet werd achtervolgd. Hij was door alles zo gespannen dat elke vlieg, elke vogel nu een dreiging leek. Zijn aandacht was buiten de auto en het duurde daarom even voor hij merkte dat er in de auto, vlak naast hem, iets gebeurde. Eén van de schermen in de zijkant van het interieur lichtte op. Hij draaide zich half om en keek gespannen naar een langzaam oplichtende vlek op een donkere achtergrond. Er kwam steeds meer detail en beetje bij beetje werd een gezicht herkenbaar. Toen het eenmaal volledig in beeld was schrok hij zich een ongeluk. Hij keek in de vermoeide ogen van zijn eigen gezicht.

Het gezicht zei: “Hallo Avram.”

Avram zei niets. Hij had geen idee hoe hierop te reageren. Hij mompelde wat, sputterde een paar onafgemaakte woorden.

“Ik zie dat je verbaasd bent mij hier te zien. Je dacht dat je lekker veilig de toekomst in was gesprongen, he?,” ging het gezicht verder.

Nog steeds zat Avram met open mond naar het scherm te kijken. De auto zweefde inmiddels een paar honderd meter in de lucht en wachtte op nieuwe instructies.

De andere Avram ging verder. “Toen ik terugkwam uit de woestijn, met de tijdmachine in de achterbak van de pickup, en ik bijna thuis was, zag ik een lichtflits vanuit het huis komen. Gek he?”

Avram’s buik trok samen. Zijn mond voelde droog aan. 

“Sterker nog, toen ik binnenkwam hing de labdeur er half uit en rook het naar azijn!”

“Azijn!..” flapte Avram eruit, verbaasd over zijn eigen onwillekeurige reactie.

“Wat zeg je? Azijn ja! Ik weet ook niet waarom! Afijn, het was duidelijk dat er iets in het lab was gebeurd. Het was niet lastig te bedenken dat dat de tijdmachine moet zijn geweest – dezelfde die ik op dat moment nog buiten had staan in de pick-up en precies op die plek in het lab had willen neerzetten. Of het nou een foutje was of expres, de consequentie was duidelijk. Er waren vanaf dat moment twee van ons. Dat wist jij ook – we zijn immers dezelfde. En ik denk dat jij ook wel doorhebt dat dat een situatie is die niet kan blijven bestaan!”

Deze hele situatie, dit totaal onwerkelijke gesprek met zichzelf, het geheven vingertje, de belerendheid en de dreiging die er vanuit ging raakte Avram als een precisiebombardement. Het voedde al zijn pijnlijke herinneringen en bracht alle angst, alle schaamte en alle schuldgevoel die hij ooit had gehad – en had onderdrukt – naar de oppervlakte. Overmeesterd door emoties wilde Avram nog maar één ding: hier zo snel mogelijk weg. Heel ver weg van deze onnatuurlijke verschijning, van dit spook, van deze kopie van hem die niet mocht zijn.

In een vlaag van inspiratie gilde hij om handbediening. Gewillig veranderde de auto een deel van de bank in een kuipstoeltje dat naar voren wees en daar verschenen nu een stuur en een aantal schuiven en panelen. Hij klom in de bestuurdersstoel, nam het stuur in handen en voelde de auto direct reageren. Hij ramde alle schuiven die hij zag naar voren en de auto schoot weg, omhoog en vooruit, pijnsnel. Hij stuurde resoluut weg van de stad in de verte en ging op zoek naar iets van een snelweg.

De snelweg was makkelijk gevonden, het lag als een witte brede streep iets boven hem. De snelweg was een oneindig lang lint zonder enige markering, zonder borden, zonder licht, zonder enige verdere aanwijzing voor bestuurders. De stippen in de lucht en deze auto waren kennelijk deel van hetzelfde systeem – volledige automatisering. Hij verbaasde zichzelf over zichzelf – zelfs in doodsangst kon hij nog geinteresseerd raken door technische snufjes…

Op het moment dat hij de snelweg naderde, nam de auto de besturing weer van hem over. Een vriendelijke toon klonk, de schuiven en het stuur verdwenen en de stoel veranderde weer in een comfortabele fauteuil. Avram schrok van de plotselinge verandering. Dit was vast een normale procedure, maar het gevoel dat de controle weer van hem werd afgenomen maakte hem weer heel angstig.

Zijn kopie was nog steeds op het scherm. 

“Het spijt me Avram. Ik neem het nu verder van je over, dat lijkt mij het beste,” zei het, met een medelijdende, bijna verdrietige uitstraling.

De auto schokte en schoot weer van de snelweg af. De auto veranderde het interieur niet – deed de andere Avram dit? Zijn gezicht verdween van het scherm. In plaats daarvan kwam een ander scherm tevoorschijn. Twee meters waren er te zien op een soort dashboard. Eén gaf de hoogte aan, dat was nu een kleine kilometer. De ander toonde de hoeveelheid brandstof. Die was zo goed als op.

Nu kon hij niet langer om de koude waarheid heen. Hij had het sinds die eerste bijna-aanvaring met de soldaten misschien al geweten maar had het niet willen zien, niet willen erkennen. Maar nu was het duidelijk: Híj was het die de eerste fout had gemaakt, híj was het dus die niet mocht zijn, niet de ander. Híj was de onnatuurlijke verschijning, het spook. Hij besefte nu ook dat híj – dus de andere hij – het was geweest die de soldaten op hem af had gestuurd. Het was kennelijk mogelijk om in de tijdmachine te zien wanneer en waarheen gesprongen was, en zo was het een koud kunstje geweest om voor beide data een alarm af te geven.

Maar hoe kon dat? De tijdmachine die hij gebruikte was nu toch niet meer dezelfde tijdmachine die de ander had? Tenzij één en dezelfde tijdmachine tegelijk in twee tijdslijnen kon bestaan en het daarmee dus toch dezelfde machine was? Dat zou kunnen verklaren hoe de tijdmachine werkte, door met beide benen in twee verschillende werelden te kunnen staan – interessant – maar die kennis kwam nu een beetje te laat…

Hij viel nu met auto en al naar beneden, naar een wereld die hij zo graag zelf had willen ontdekken. Met meer teleurstelling dan boosheid accepteerde hij zijn lot. Beneden zag hij weilanden, steden en prachtig fonkelende meren, met stipjes van boten. Andere auto’s, wolken, vogels, het was opeens prachtig. Een schrale troost viel hem in. Hij was verreweg de oudste bewoner op aarde die op dit moment zou sterven. Had hij toch iets bijzonders bereikt in zijn leven…

Short Story: Cause and Effect

/0 Reacties/door

Chapter 1: Current timeline

Location: Room 09, secret location.

Date: undisclosed

Time: 09:03 AM.

Ellen was nervous and restless. She knew it was all because of the meeting she was about to have. She had not slept well, in fact it felt like she had been lying awake all night. She had been having all sorts of wild dreams during the five or six times her consciousness shut down for a few minutes. Some had been related to her recent discoveries, which made sense, but some had been very different, almost random, about her time at school, her first jobs. Then there had been dreams that she didn’t remember at all, but which had left her sad and exhausted, like having run somewhere to discover that you were too late, that the damage had already been done.

She had set her alarm for 0600, planning ahead as usual. She got gotten up half an hour before the alarm was supposed to go off, having lost all appetite for lying in bed, feeling both tired and restless. She had gone for a run to try and shake off the feeling of gloom that had stayed with her after she had woken, hoping that the cold morning air would lift the veil that she imagined still clung to her skin. Although the morning had been beautiful, the clear, crisp mountain air creating a crimson dawn on a navy blue canvas, the eventual daybreak had lifted the fog in the valley further down the trail, but not in her head.

She had cut her run short, feeling disappointment, and had returned to her cabin for breakfast, putting her money on food instead of exercise. A few bites in, she had realized that food wasn’t the answer either, and that the feeling probably wouldn’t go away soon anyway. She had made some coffee, poured it into a thermos flask which she carried to her car and had started to drive, ending up here, fourty minutes later, at a government complex in the middle of nowhere, about to go into a meeting with the deputy head of Homeland Security.

“Sit down”, Frank had said immediately after she had come in to the office that had been reserved for the meeting.

Ellen was reminded of the previous encounter she had had with Frank. She had been in press briefing with Frank’s boss, the head of Homeland Security, as well as Frank himself, several other officials she didn’t remember, some press and she herself, being an aide to the President’s science adviser at the time, long before she got the top job herself. She remembered Frank as brusque, impatient, tough, and with little time nor respect for the ways of science and scientists. Apparently, he hadn’t changed much since then.

The office was in the back of the building, looking out across a field through floor-to-ceiling windows, providing a view that was surprisingly luxurious for a government building. It was decorated sparsely, with the usual accoutrements of offices anywhere, a large boardroom table in the center with four leather-upholstered reclining and very comfortable office chairs on each side, a projector hidden away in the paneled ceiling, a desk with office supplies and several connectors and buttons on a panel in the wall near a coffee and drinks table which stood next to the door through which they had come in. It had the mix of quality and sparsity that reminded her more of a rented office space than of a government building. Obviously, even the government had to rent additional office space sometimes. Not surprising after the closing of many office buildings during the last administration, she thought.

“Thanks for seeing me Frank. I need to ask – who else knows about this meeting?” Ellen had been worried about this since the meeting had been set up. It was too soon for others to be involved, and she didn’t want to risk making a fool of herself, or worse, of Frank.

“Just you and me” Frank replied, with a hint of surprise at the directness of her question.

“The fewer people that know about it, the better!” Ellen continued. “What about Joyce?”

Frank’s secretary had to have been involved in planning the meeting, she knew, but hoped that she hadn’t been made aware of who Frank was meeting with.

“Just that I have an offsite appointment. Joyce has no idea with who I am meeting nor where.”

Ellen relaxed a little at this piece of information. She had made an assumption that this meeting was not something Frank wanted people to know about, and it seemed her guess had been the correct one.

“The guard at the gate has of course seen you” Frank continued, “but he doesn’t know what you’re coming for, and I’m also sure that he doesn’t know who you are.”

Ellen couldn’t help detecting a hint of mockery in Frank’s voice. She decided to not let it bother her and pressed on with her agenda.

“Thanks. I will try not to take that as an insult. Anyway, I get what you mean. But it’s important. What I’m here to tell you is extremely sensitive. I want guarantees that this will remain between us.”

Frank raised his eyebrows. “What exactly are you afraid of?”

“That you’ll turn it into a weapon right away. It won’t be the first time that a discovery with potential to benefit mankind is transformed into a military project or is shut down and silenced.”

Frank was silent for a few seconds, unsure whether he’d heard her correctly.

“OK”, he said slowly, after giving it some thought, “I guess you’re referring to the atom bomb or something? But what do you mean by shutting down or silencing? Do you think that Roswell really happened? That we’re all conspiring to keep the truth about the aliens from you?”

Frank was clearly not enjoying this meeting so far, and she regretted the ferocity in her voice. She had to be careful she didn’t upset him in the first five minutes already. But she also wasn’t going to let him brush aside her concerns either, dammit! She took a moment to settle her frustration, forced a patient smile to her lips, and replied with as calm and serious a voice as she could muster.

“No Frank, I am thinking of the obvious fact that for at least the past fifty years, nuclear fusion has almost been working and just needed ten more years. If it is not actively being discouraged, then at the very least, it is not being actively advanced. With enough government support, there would no longer be an energy problem!”

Frank looked at her for a second, undecided whether to laugh or get mad and chose not to respond at all.

“Here, have some coffee, take some milk. Let’s try to talk about what you came for. At least I assume you didn’t come here only to accuse me of a conspiracy.”

He poured her a cup and put it in front of her, looking up at her with eyebrows raised, inviting her to speak.  Again she felt the merest hint of mockery in his voice.

Ellen searched for words, ignoring the coffee. She felt agitated and it annoyed her. She was desperately trying to find a voice of strength and reason that this man would listen too, and noticed herself failing again and again. She looked at her fingernails, as if looking for the answer there.

“No, it’s not, ” she said finally, breaking the spell and looking up from her hands. “All right, then. Yes, there is something important I’m here for, and I need your help.” She sighed. She looked Frank straight in the eyes, having found her conviction once again. “But first, I want your promise that we will determine together what happens to this information before I tell you more. Do you promise me that?”

“Come on, Ellen, why so dramatic, we’re not the enemy. At least give me a little something. What the hell are we talking about here, aliens?”

“Almost. Do you promise?” Her tone was flat, and Frank’s face changed, ever so slightly.

“Okay, you got my attention. Tell me.”

“Do you promise?” Ellen pressed.

“Yes, goddamn it, I promise, spill it out!”

Ellen leaned back in the leather office chair. She folded her hands behind her head and stared at the ceiling for a moment. “Do you know Michael Rose?”

“From Caltech?”

Ellen nodded and hummed in agreement.

“Yes, I know him, but he’s a physicist, not an astronomer. What about him?”

“No, indeed, he’s a physicist. Quite an accomplished one. In recent years, he’s been working mostly on quantum tunneling.”

Ellen saw Frank’s eyebrows go up. She leaned in a little and looked him straight in eyes again, feeling more confident now that she was finally telling her story the way she had prepared it.

“Quantum tunneling is one of the more bizarre consequences of the laws of the quantum mechanics. It’s full of weird stuff, anyway. For starters, according to Planck, a particle is at the same time a wave and made of matter, and according to Heisenberg you can only know where or how fast a particle moves but never both.

“It gets worse. It follows from the laws of quantum mechanics that a gas that is enclosed in a sealed space, has a probability that some of its particles are actually outside of that space. Not that they really are, but that there’s a chance, a probability that they’re there. Experiments have shown that particles have indeed been measured in places where they should not be. This is called ‘quantum tunneling’.

“OK, I can still follow that. And what has Michael Rose discovered?”, Frank asked.

“As you may know, in addition to quantum mechanics, there is also another fundamental basis for contemporary physics.”

“Einstein?” Frank replied. He took a sip of his coffee, finding it too hot to drink and set it back down on the table.

“Very good”, Ellen said, “Einstein’s general and special theory of relativity. We’ve just never been able to connect the two. As soon as you make distances extremely small, quantum reality takes over and Einstein is nowhere, and vice versa. But there is one angle that hasn’t been explored deep enough, at least until now. As you may remember, Einstein imagined our universe with four dimensions, length, width, height and time.

“Time?”

“Yes, time. For example you could pinpoint our conversation today with a longitude, a latitude, some altimeters and a timestamp. The same place, but one day later, is a completely different place in Einstein’s universe.”

“OK, that makes sense too. Time as the fourth dimension.”

“That’s it. So, what we had not yet investigated properly is whether quantum tunneling can also take place in the fourth dimension.”

“Ah, so whether a particle can appear at a different timestamp than where it should be. That means…” Frank’s face  instantly lit up with understanding. “… time travel?”

“That’s right.”

“Ellen, you wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t something for you to tell me and that probably means something bad. What the hell did he find out?”

“You have to understand that these are probabilities. Quantum mechanics is not about particles with a precise location but particles with a probability curve, a mathematical description of all possible places, with an associated probability. Think of it as a cloud filled with places where a particle could be. Only when you try to observe the particle does the cloud disappear and do you see the particle in a certain place. Until then, it will be in every place in that probability cloud at the same time.”

Frank sat with his hands in his hair and looked through pinched eyelids at a spot above Ellen’s left eye. He was very aware that he was at the edge of his understanding and Ellen was threating to go beyond. He did not want to look stupid, but he also knew that he really had to try to understand it, if he was going to play a role in this development and have a say about what happened next. It all sounded too fantastic – but also very dangerous.

Ellen pressed on. “The first time he actively tried to accelerate a particle to the right energy level for it to be able to tunnel, nothing special happened. The same thing happened the next few hundred attempts. You should know that this is an endless puzzle with dozens of variables and infinite ways in which it doesn’t work.”

“OK, can we cut to the chase please?” asked Frank impatiently. “What did he find?” He was getting a headache. He picked up his coffee again.

“At the hundred-seventieth time, Michael did exactly what he had done before, but ended up getting double the energy back from what he put in. His first idea was that he had found a way to tap the point-energy of quantum space, which would have a been a revolution too, but later he realized he had found something very different and much more terrifying. Because, after trial three-hundred-eighty-two, he received nothing in return. No energy. Nothing at all.”

Ellen made Frank think about this for a second. The sound of birds in the forest outside and mumbling voices in the hallway behind the office door could be heard over the utter silence that now descended on the office that Ellen and Frank sat in.

Frank frowned, testing his conceptual limits, mulling over what she had said. No energy came out… when double the energy out earlier…. Finally it dawned and he looked at her in disbelief.

“Holy crap… So… The extra energy that he had found at the first trial, was actually the lost energy of the later test? How on earth is that possible?”

“Quantum tunneling, Frank. Apparently, in the later trial, a particle was made that had a probability could that stretched, through the fourth dimension, up to the time of the earlier test, where he caught it.”

“Before it even existed?”

“Before it existed, yes.”

Frank stared at her in disbelief. Ellen moved on. “Of course, he immediately changed his research direction and dropped everything else. After a few months, they managed to repeat this with some level of predictability. And this is where it gets really groundbreaking.”

She finally took a sip of her coffee without noticing it was cold and continued her story.

“So, by now, they had developed very sensitive instruments that could detect these extremely rare particles. When the team discussed if they could maybe entangle, or modulate some information onto a particle, so it could be wrapped up with the particle as it were, someone suggested that they could try to calibrate the machine to detect only a certain type of particles. Like, for example, photons.”

“Photons?”

“Yes, photons, particles of light.”

“Do you mean to say they built a fucking camera?” Frank stared at her open-mouthed.

“Yes, actually, I do. By making the detector sensitive to photons with these special properties, from this specific probability cloud, they would in theory be able to catch information from the future, in the form of light. And if you collect enough individual little dots of light, you automatically get…”

“An image…” Frank’s was now leaning forward on his elbows, with his palms raised off table, his coffee cup tilting slightly, almost spilling his coffee on the board-room table.

“It worked”, Ellen continued, leaving Frank frozen in his pose. “His team has indeed managed to capture images from the future in this way.”

“How far ahead? Minutes, hours?” Frank’s mind was racing now, seeing all the possibilities, good and bad, that this could realize.

“At first it was minutes, but now, since about a month, it’s years. A lot of years.”

Frank continued to stare at Ellen. He’d never liked scientists, always found them condescending, intent on making him feel insecure and dumb. He hated that. Still, he was usually able to feign interest in their stories when he needed to, while in reality his thoughts wandered off after the first few minutes. Instead, he noticed how deeply attentive he now was, listening to Ellen’s crazy story. For the first time he realized that he’d been listening for minutes without moving a muscle. He could feel his stiff arms and legs, noticed the cup in his hand and quickly set it back on the table. What she had said sounded outrageous. Could it be a joke? To get back at him for his known disdain of scientists?

He decided to break the tension and let himself lean back for a moment in his chair. To test his theory, he let a small smile play around his lips for a few seconds, but immediately saw in her motionless and dead-pan expression that it had not been a joke, that this was very serious indeed. God almighty, he thought, this is insane, and very, very dangerous… And the timing! Now that it looked as if humanity had finally figured out how to live peacefully together. Everything seemed to indicate that they were entering a period of prosperity, peace, cooperation and economic stability, all as a result of ever-increasing confidence. Scientists working together on the climate problem had ensured more and more connection and exchange between countries that had previously been suspicious of each other, there were even more and more voices to abolish the army… Ridiculous, of course, but what was their role in this world that was almost no longer at war…?

He awoke from his reverie with a sudden thought. He leant forward, looking at her intently, like a kid about to get a toy. “You brought something with you to show me, didn’t you? ”

Silently, Ellen reached with her right hand in her briefcase, grabbed her tablet and in one move opened it with her thumbprint, letting the tablet display a grayish photo, and turned it towards Frank.

 

 

Chapter 2: Sometime in the year 2130

A conversation between David Ortiz, Head of Strategic Research and general Ali Mansour, Head of Armed Forces.

Discussion room 531, secret location.

9:03 in the morning.

 

David had been sitting in the cold and bare office for the past twenty minutes, wondering how anyone could work in such a dreary place, imagining them sitting behind that desk on the other side of the room armed with woolen mittens and earmuffs to stay warm. The desk itself had something antagonistic about its design, something that cnoveyed toughness and indestructibility, just like the only person that was allowed to sit there. He’d expected the office of general Mansour to be more opulent, or at least somewhat comfortable, but realized quickly that someone who had the top rank in the military would want to demonstrate their toughness and indestructibility to everyone else by not having a comfortable office.

For the fourth time he gazed at the little bits of decoration around the room. Or was it the fifth time? He saw a day calendar with no markings on it, a framed photo of general Mansour with some serious-looking people in uniform beside her and a pole with a US flag in the far corner opposite the desk, behind his chair.

While he was looking over his left shoulder, the door behind him opened and the general entered.

“What am I doing here?” she said, as she marched towards her desk, not pausing to greet David.

David’s legs had started to lift him out of the chair in deference and greeting but quickly sat down again, seeing that the general had no interest in formalities.

“Thank you for coming, General, I know you’re very busy, but we considered this very important.”

“Nine o’clock and-no-coffee-yet-important?” The general had reached her chair and was sitting upright and unmovable as she spoke, like a mountain in her chair, arms crossed, eyes sharp and focused on David. he could see her forehead creasing in an intense frown, radiating annoyance and impatience.

“I’m told coffee has been ordered and will be here soon” David said, using his most business-like tone. “But yes, that important. I didn’t want to waste any time, this deserves your full attention and mine and we will probably be working on this for the rest of the day. Your assistant tells me she is already looking at clearing your schedule.”

General Major Ali Mansour was unpleasantly surprised by all this. She wasn’t used to people speaking to her like that. Certainly not someone who was clearly ten years younger that she was and who apparently had just left the academy. Incomprehensible, these young people who had no idea of the seriousness of the situation in the world.

“Ok” she sighed, “then tell me what we’re going to be doing all day, and I hope for your time the coffee will be there soon!” She relinquished her mountain-like pose somewhat and leaned forward on her arms.

“Yes, of course, so am I. All right, then.” David took a manila folder out of his briefcase on laid it, closed, in front of him on the general’s desk. This caused the general’s frown to increase a little. Undeterred, David continued. “You know what kind of research we do at our institute, that we are always looking into new ways to send information so that none of our enemies can intercept it. We believe that we are still way ahead of Russia and China. However, they are also making some progress. As we anticipate that the they are doing the same as us, we’ve been trying to catch them in the act.”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry, I have to give you some introduction first, but this won’t take long. So – we’re trying to figure out all of the ways that they could be trying to send data so that we don’t pick up on . Encryption, entanglement, negative-light modulation, etc.”

The general growled.

“Our latest idea was that they might use the quantum-tunneling effect to scatter information, so that only someone who knows exactly along which axes and to what extent the information is scattered can read the message.”

“So, what’s the deal? Any Russian messages? Chinese?”

“No, we didn’t find any, but we did find something else. We noticed that someone had indeed been busy sending data in this way. Or actually receiving data in this way.”

“What data? Who?”

“We don’t know – but we do know with quite some certainty that some information has in effect been transferred from our lab to another lab.”

“Don’t talk in riddles man, what exactly do you mean?”

Despite his good preparation and the importance of his discovery, David noticed that he started to lose his calm, getting unnerved by the General’s gaze.

“I mean, we have, um, the data,…”

At that moment, a service bot came in with a cup of coffee and sweets. Rescued by a bot, David thought relieved.

With the coffee on the table and poured, David continued, now with renewed confidence. “What we have ascertained so far is that someone is doing experiments with quantum tunneling. We have done the same in our own research and somehow a connection has appeared between our two labs and information has gone from us to them. At the moment, no more than single particles, but we see that the signal is getting stronger. It won’t be long before they can capture images from the inside of our lab.”

“Can’t you disconnect? Stop your own experiment?”

“Unfortunately not, we immediately tried that of course. But when we  pull the plug, we also kill our only way of seeing what they see and then we’re blind – while they continue looking at our labs.”

“I get it. As long as we’re connected, we can see what they’re seeing, but we can’t stop them. Any idea who’s behind it?”

“No, we can’t deduce that from anything. We don’t know where it’s coming from.”

“So it could be anyone! China, Russia, Mercosur, Korea, and they can just take a goddamn peek in our pants! Do you have any idea what an advantage over us that gives them? Things have been relatively peaceful for more than a century because everything’s perfectly balanced – only the fact that everyone knows exactly what everyone else is doing has ensured that no new world war has broken out! Do you have any idea what it takes to plunge us into the next hundred years of misery? Absolutely nothing! We have been living in the middle of a new cold war for over a hundred years, and this one is ten times worse than the last one!”

“Yes, General. But scientists have also…”

She didn’t let him finish. “Jesus… Our latest technology, our latest experiments…. In the hands of I don’t know which enemy. This is an enormous goddamn shit-pile you and your scientists have created David!”

“General, we have an idea.” David continued, ignoring the slight to him and his team.

It took a while for the general to break away from her indignation. “Huh, what?”

David poured her some more coffee. He saw that he still hadn’t touched his own cup. “The connection only exists in one place, specifically one of the lab rooms in complex B. Nowhere else. And we can’t stop them from looking, but we can stop them seeing certain things.”

He took the time to let this sink in with the general. Strangely enough, he now seemed the calmer of the two, to be the one in charge of the conversation, rather than the mountain facing him. He continued confidently. “We can determine what they see. Do you see? We can decorate the space in any way we want. We could turn it into a kitchen, a church, whatever, and they’ll never suspect anything as they didn’t know we knew they were looking!”

The general was sitting with the cup of coffee in her hands, looking intently at David. He couldn’t read if it was outrage, fear or relief in her eyes, but something was brewing. He finally raised his cup to take a sip of coffee but before he could, she slammed her coffee on the table so hard that David was afraid the cup would break. “A kitchen, you say? A church? For Christ’s sake, you are bunch of idiots!”

General Mansour was back in her familiar role and David’s newly found confidence disappeared like snow melting in the sun. “This is the opportunity to throw sand in the eyes of a hostile nation! Let me tell you what you and your pencil-head staff are going to do – you’re going to take all of the modern junk out of that lab right now, and replace it with the oldest, dustiest, outdated and failed experiments and devices you still have somewhere on the shelf. You’re going back 150 years today, do you understand? If they want to peek inside our pants, they will be treated to a beautiful historic scene! And it better look believable, David! Got it?!”

With her hands flat on the table and leaning forward over, she had issued her commands. To David’s surprise, her rage hadn’t been directed at his team’s idea at all. It seemed she actually liked the idea – they just hadn’t come up with the solution that the general now proposed. But she couldn’t blame them for not thinking like a general, right? They were scientists!

He nodded his consent and started collecting his things, convinced that he better get away from her as soon as possible. But before he could even start to get up out of his seat, the general had already marched out of the room,  just as she decidedly as she had come in earlier. In the now empty room, David collapsed back into his chair. He breathed heavily and stared at a point of the table in front of him. His heart rate was slowing a little now. He looked at the rest of the table. There was still coffee and baklava. He poured himself a fresh cup and blew on the hot coffee. He took a piece of baklava, he felt he deserved it. He wiped the sticky crumbs off his mouth with his wrist, grabbed his intercom and dialed a number.

“Esai? It’s David. Well, it went as expected. Yes, I’m still shaking, but she agrees with our plan to change the room. But she has a different idea. She wants us to fill it up with old devices. … What? Wes, actually, I do. This is better. You’re going to start disassembling? I’ll be right there. Uh-uh? I’m sure you do! We still have a lot of things in the basement. yes, set that up, too. Fine, see you soon.”

He disconnected, sighed, and finally took his first sip of coffee of the day.

 

Chapter 3: Current timelin3

Location: Room 09, secret location.

Date: undisclosed

Time: 11:07 AM.

 

Frank was watching the tablet. It wasn’t the most detailed photo, but he hadn’t expect it to be. With his background in the security service he had learned to extract clear data from the vaguest images. This was not so bad. It looked most like a French painting with these dots. Frank was annoyed for a moment that he did not know the name of that style, but he could visualise the painting in his mind. Something with flowers and a pond…

He squeezed his eyes and surmised that he was looking at a lab, with racks, tables, appliances, and people busying around between them.

“What do you make of it?” Ellen asked.

“Well, it looks like a lab, and it doesn’t look spectacular, I have to say. What are these people doing?”

“Our idea is that they are assembling or disassembling something. They look rushed. Like something just happened. But that’s not the most important thing. Take a look at this.”

Ellen wiped her index finger across the tablet to bring out another photo. Frank looked intently. This was a close-up of a device. It looked familiar to him…

“What is this?” he asked.

“That,” Ellen said, “is a GE 2000 Electron spin analyzer. In fact, that’s our GE 2000 Electron spin analyzer. I can see it by a dent at the top right. I personally dropped a laptop on that. Not my best day, by the way.”

“What do you think that means?”

“Little progress in any case. When you consider how fast progress is going now, it’s hard to understand. Why not much will change in 100 years’ time. But there’s something else that’s worrying me. Look at the people.”

“Huh? What about the people?” Frank couldn’t see what she meant. They loooked normal, like typical lab rats. White coats, glasses, smug looks like they knew something he didn’t. He was familiar with the type.

“Don’t you see?” Ellen pressed him.

Frank stared some more at the image in front of him. Ellen zoomed out so that the whole image became visible. The picture now showed five lab technicians in grey coats, wearing some kind of badge…  Soldiers? Frank was still lost. “What are you talking about, Ellen? I just see five guys in a lab. What am I missing?”

“Five guys – indeed. Five white guys, probably Russians, and by the look of it probably military Russians.”

Frank silently absorbed what Ellen was saying. Today, labs like that were a public forum, where nations worked together for the benefit of all. He should see at least one Chinese or Arab scientist in this picture. Also, given the technology that he was seeing in this lab from the future, it looked like no signficant technological progress would be made in the next fifty years or more. What had happened? And why were they wearing uniforms? To Frank, the answer was obvious. It could mean only one thing. Today’s era of peace and collaboration is very soon making way for something else… He felt himself getting worked up, excited even, at the thought of something finally changing in this world that had gotten tired of war, that no longer thought it needed it’s military. An opportunity for them to be relevant again.

“So?” Ellen asked, looking at him with questioning eyes while she turned her tablet back towards her and started to switch it off.

He quickly regained control and looked up. He needed to keep his cool and play this well. He sighed and looked at her with an earnest expression. “I don’t know, Ellen,” he started. “I love what you’re doing, but I can’t do anything with this. Even if it’s all real, I find it hard to believe there’s something there to worry about. Also, I don’t think you should go public with this. People will call you crazy. But I do want you to tell Michael to continue his investigation until there’s more clarity.”

“What’s the matter with you? Why? Continue? What are you talking about?”

“I mean, we’re done with this conversation. I’ve got more to do.”

“You can’t mean that. It was superimportant just a moment ago!”

Frank got up, looked at Ellen but didn’t say anything. Sputtering, Ellen started packing her belongings. She gave Frank a look she hoped reflected both anger and contempt.

“I can’t believe you’re sending me away now, Frank!”

“Have a nice day, Ellen,” Frank said, pointing to the door. Ellen turned around and left the room.

Frank sat down with a deep sigh, waited for the door to close and grabbed the phone. He called the Minister of Defence. “Jeffrey? Convene a staff meeting. I just saw something that changes everything. We’re back in business.”

He hung up the phone, disconnecting his call. Frank leaned back in his chair, and for the first time in days, felt himself smile.