Paul Melko - The Walls of the Universe

“I hope you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” she said. “I’ll go into the factory tonight. In fact, I’ve got to run.”

Grace gave him a quick hug. She said slyly, “So, you saw Casey yesterday… and this morning.”

“How do you know these things?”

“If you don’t come home to the dorm, the girls know!”

“But you don’t even live there anymore!”

“Everyone knows where everyone sleeps every night,” Grace said. “It’s a rule of the women’s dorm. Or else there’d be nothing to talk about at breakfast. See you tomorrow.”

John pulled a sandwich and a soda from the fridge, then sat down with Henry’s notebook. He had to keep referring to the textbooks. Luckily, physics lab had exposed him to Henry’s cryptic handwriting. Henry had started with the thread, the lab report on it, and the test bench. With as much data on the thread’s characteristics as possible he had tried to reproduce its physical parameters. The mess on the lab bench was his first attempt.

They’d estimated there were one hundred thousand strands in the device. Henry’s prototype would require about ten million dollars in parts.

“It would bankrupt us,” John whispered. Unless there was a simpler way to model the threads with this universe’s components. Could they design a circuit that modeled the thread and then custom-order one hundred thousand of them?

He started rearranging Henry’s circuits.

John looked up when the door to the warehouse opened. He expected to see Grace or Henry. Instead it was Casey.

“Oh, crap!” he said. “Did we have a date?”

“Not for another forty-five minutes, but you didn’t answer your phone, and Grace said you’d be here,” she said.

“So I didn’t miss it.”

“No, but I’m not saying you wouldn’t have,” Casey said. “I just didn’t want to give you the chance to blow our relationship again so soon after we’ve decided to give it another shot.”

“So you’re here as a precaution for our relationship,” John said.

“Yep, and I brought Chinese.”

John looked at the cold sandwich he had half-eaten and swiped it into the trash can. “Excellent.”

“So this is the device, huh?” Casey peered into the innards, squinting. “Looks like a toy.”

“It’s an intensely powerful device, capable of ripping holes in the universe,” John said.

“Or you just think it is.”

“Entirely possible, from your point of view, but wrong.”

“You would say that.”

John sighed. “If you are going to assume that there’s no difference between me believing what it can do and it actually being able to do it, can we drop the argument until definitive proof is available?”

“Sure,” Casey said. “You got any plates around here? Napkins are probably out of the question.” She glanced around. “Good thing they included plastic sporks.”

“It’s an old warehouse. There’s paper towels in the bathroom. I’ll clear off a spot on the table.”

Casey came back with a handful of towels. “So this is where you guys moved to after you relocated from campus.”

“Just for a few weeks. Then we got better facilities.”

“Grace is giving me a tour tomorrow.” Casey looked into one of the pinball frames that stood in the corner.

“We have sporks there,” John said. “Don’t worry.”

“And napkins?”

“We have waiters ready to wipe your lips as needed.”

“Oh, posh.”

“Mmm, good food,” John said around a mouthful of noodles. “Where’re we going tonight?”

“Your place.”

“All right.”

John pushed his worries away. He had a meeting with Charboric in a couple days. He had the device open on a workbench, possibly ruined. Visgrath had threatened him with harm if he didn’t comply. But Casey was back in his life, and that was all that mattered.

“I think so, if the current doesn’t exceed half an amp,” Henry said.

“We can’t guarantee that,” John said.

“Not until we test,” Henry said.

John paged through the circuit board catalog. “These IMCAL 212 boards seem to be what we need-”

The phone rang, and they looked up from the workbench filled with circuitry. They had spent the morning trying to simplify Henry’s model of the thread. Grace was at the factory, giving Casey a tour.

“Hello?”

“John, this is Grace. Visgrath is here. He’s angry.”

“What? Why?”

“The circuits and equipment showed up on my corporate bill. He’s suspicious.”

“Stall him. We’re coming.”

“What is it?” Henry said.

“Visgrath. He’s suspicious because Grace bought all this on her corporate card.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah.”

Henry ran for the door. John looked at the device, sitting there in the open.

“I need to lock this in the safe,” John called.

“I’ll meet you there,” Henry said.

John placed the device gently in the huge safe in the warehouse office. No one was getting in there.

When he reached his car, Henry was long gone. John sped toward the new factory, zipping past the noonday traffic on the highway. The factory was only ten minutes away.

The undercarriage of the Trans Am smashed against the speed bump as John came into the office complex. He slammed on his brakes as he came around the corner. An ambulance was in front of the building. Henry’s car was parked in the fire lane, with its door open. There was Grace’s car.

Paramedics were working on a body in the middle of the road.

John threw open the door of the car.

He ran.

As he neared the fallen body, he made out a woman’s shoe. He came to a halt, his heart thumping.

Lying on the street, blood flowing from a wound in her abdomen, was Casey.

“Casey!” John cried. He tried to get closer, but a paramedic blocked him.

“Let us work, buddy,” she growled.

John stumbled back, tripping over the curb. What had happened? Where was Grace? Where was Henry?

He saw Viv, the shop foreman, coming out of the door of the Pinball Wizards factory.

“Viv!” he shouted. “Where’s Henry and Grace?”

She looked confused, shrugging her shoulders. “Not here.”

“Where?” John cried.

“They left just a few minutes ago,” Viv said, confused. “They left with Casey and the gruesome twosome.”

“Who?”

“You know, Visgrath and Charboric. They were all locked up in the office for a while, then Henry came, and then they all left.” She peered around John’s shoulder. “What’s happening?”

“Casey,” John said numbly. “She’s been…”

“Is that blood? Jesus, that’s Casey,” Viv said.

John felt his knees buckle. Viv, with legs thick enough to be mistaken for tree trunks, lifted him to his feet. “Hold on there, John. Let’s get you inside.”

John shook her off. His vision seemed to crystallize. They’d shot Casey. Visgrath and Charboric were on to him. They had to be. Something had forced their hand. Realization struck. They wanted the device. If they didn’t know about it, they soon would. And John didn’t have it. It was at the old factory.

He brushed past Viv, ignoring her squawk of outrage. His car was still idling, with its door open. He drove between the ambulance and the row of parked cars. His heart twisted as he saw Casey lying there. He hated himself for leaving. What else could he do?

There was a dark SUV outside the warehouse when he got there. He pulled the Trans Am around the corner of another alley and sat there shaking. He should have taken the device with him. Then he could have… What? Run? Not this time.

He popped his trunk, rooted around inside, and pulled out the tire iron. It felt cold in his palm. Useless and limp.