Paul Jones - Towards Yesterday

“For God’s sake, leave them be,” snapped Lorentz.

Belkov blanched at the sharp tone of voice and Jim thought that this was probably the first time he had seen the little girl who hid deep beneath the frosty efficient exterior of Lorentz’s personal assistant.

The room became still. All faces were now regarding Lorentz who seemed just about ready to explode.

The Doctor took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. “I must apologize for my anger,” he said, laying a reassuring hand on his assistant’s arm, a smile of contrition fixed to his face, “but I have just received some utterly incomprehensible news which I will now share with you all.”

His face took on a deeper shade of red and the gathered scientists could see the control Lorentz was exerting to keep himself composed.

“The Director of Homeland Security, in all his wisdom, has just informed me that we will soon be receiving a delegation whose explicit responsibility it will be to document our procedure and monitor our efforts here.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad.” said Jim. “These government crews are pretty respectful of our space and usually—”

“They are not government,” interrupted Lorentz.

“Oh!” exclaimed Jim

“No. They are representatives of Father Edward Pike and his Church of Second Redemption .”

That news unleashed an immediate uproar of protest from the gathered team.

“They can’t—”

“Who the Hell do they think they are?”

“You have to be kidding?”

When the room finally quieted down the tension and anger was as palpable as fog. Its miasma clung to them all.

“How the hell can they get away with this?” asked a shocked Adrianna Drake, her voice an even higher pitch than usual.

“They are the Church, they can do as they damn well please, apparently” spat Mabry.

“It is really quite simple,” said Lorentz, “The massed followers of the Church of Second Redemption now amount to approximately thirty-five percent of the voting population of this country. Pike has apparently informed President Roderick that if he wishes to continue to count on the votes of his parishioners he will allow his team of monitors—Pike’s name for them, not mine—complete access our program. And with the death of President Sarandon and the upcoming election, well, you know the drill with politicians.”

“Is there anything we can do?” asked Mabry.

“Of course, I refused,” Lorentz continued, “and I was told, quite bluntly, that if I wished to maintain my position as Director of this project that the matter was closed and I would comply with the request or else.” Lorentz leaned on the table, his tone matter-of-fact “We are too close to allow my personal ethics and pride to get in the way of our success.”

There was a mutter of discontent from around the table.

“When can we expect our… guests to arrive?” asked Jim.

“Tomorrow. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

This drew more groans of discontent from the group.

“What does the Church want with us?” Adrianna said aloud. “I thought they were convinced the S lip was an act of God?”

“Apparently they want to be here if the experiment fails. So they can gloat, I suppose.”

“But don’t they understand that if the experiment fails, it’s over? There won’t be anybody left to gloat?”

“These people are religious fanatics,” continued Lorentz, “they are not driven by rational thought or empirical data—their faith is all they accept. It doesn’t matter anyway. The decision has been made and the Church team will be here tomorrow, and that’s that. We will all just have to do the best we can to make sure they do not get in our way.”

It took another twenty minutes for the team to vent their feelings over the intrusion of the Church into the project, until finally, Lorentz stood and said, “Meeting adjourned. Let’s all try and relax, shall we?”

As the rest of the team made their way back to their quarters, Lorentz beckoned to Jim.

“Could you hold on for just a minute? I’d like a word,” Lorentz said as he took Jim by the elbow and led him to one side.

“What’s up?”

When Mitchell Lorentz was uncomfortable about broaching a subject with one of the team, he would tap the tip of a pen against his lips while he thought how best to broach the subject matter; it was a personal tell that Jim had learned to recognize. He noticed him doing it now and smiled inwardly as he waited for his boss to find the right words while simultaneously bracing for what he was sure would be more bad news.

“James,” Lorentz began between beats of the pen, “there was a second demand—request—from the Church.”

“They want us all to convert?” Jim pondered.

“No. No,” said Lorentz through a half smile. “They have insisted that you should be the liaison between our team here and the monitors when they arrive.”

Jim looked perplexed. “What? Why me? I’ve never had anything to do with the Second Redeemers.”

“They asked for you specifically. I was told you must be the liaison, and if you did not respond favorably to the request, that I should immediately suspend your position here and have you removed from the project.”

Jim started to object but Lorentz held up his hands. “Wait, wait. Before you say anything just let me say that I will not put you in the position of being ordered to do this. I want you to know that if you decide not to accept their dictate I will back you one-hundred percent, even if it means my own resignation. It’s a monstrous imposition for both of us to endure.”

“Mitchell, it’s not a problem and I appreciate your candor. Of course, I accept. We are too close to completion now. I just wonder, why me?”

“Well,” said a smiling Lorentz clapping Jim on his back, “maybe you ticked somebody off in a previous life.”

The monitoring team arrived as scheduled the following day.

Jim stood on the steps of the institute, shooing away the occasional fly that buzzed annoyingly past his head. The sun was high overhead, beating mercilessly down. Along the asphalt approach to the lab a heat haze hung in the air just above the blacktop surface, distorting the image of the vehicle carrying the Second Redemption crew into crazy funhouse mirror shapes as it waited to clear security.

“Here they come,” said Mina Belkov, her hand raised to shade her eyes from the glare.

The security gate slid back. The white nondescript minivan pulled forward and began heading toward the main building. Lorentz had loaned Mina to Jim as his assistant for the duration of the visit, she was to help him with anything he might not be able to handle or know. A situation neither was particularly comfortable with.

The van drove the quarter mile to the steps of the reception area and pulled to a halt in front of Jim and Mina with a screech of overheated brake pads.

Through the windshield of the van Jim could just make out the driver. The other windows, blacked out with a reflective material, revealed nothing of who was inside the van. The driver was stocky with wide shoulders and big arms that bulged under his t-shirt. Large hands clasped the steering wheel of the vehicle as he guided it to a stop. The man sported a full beard and mustache neatly trimmed to match his dark brown crew cut hair. He regarded Jim with intense green eyes, a sardonic smile creasing his face.

Jim was sure he didn’t know the man but it was hard to be sure with most of his face hidden behind the beard and mustache. And what the hell was he smiling at? He looked like the proverbial cat that had caught the canary.

The smiling man pulled himself out of the driver’s seat and strode around to the steps where Jim and Mina waited. He was tall—six-four maybe six-five, Jim estimated. The bearded man grasped Jim’s hand in his own, and Jim felt as if he had placed his hand in a vice, so powerful was the man’s grip.