John Schettler - Meridian

They drove on past the circular dome of the Cyclotron building, and Dorland noted again how the bright, evenly spaced rectangular windows at the base of the dome gave the impression that an immense flying saucer was sitting on the rooftop of an otherwise nondescript building. The lights of the city glimmered in regular rows below them, defining streets that reached out to the dark blue edge of the East Bay, the waters illuminated with the soft amber glow of the city. They made a turn and headed for the lab in the newly renovated Building Complex Number 54.

A security guard emerged from a small white building on the left, squinting in as Kelly opened the front window to display his ID card. The guard nodded a greeting, almost as if he expected them, for they had been in and out of the facilities there with increasing frequency as the date of their planned project test drew near. Just the same, he checked all four ID cards, and carefully noted each person in the vehicle before he waved them through. They made their way around a bend and climbed the last switchback of roadway to Building 54. The parking lot outside the building was nearly vacant, but Dorland recognized a few of the vehicles as belonging to the Advanced Prep team members. He sighed with relief, glad that a few intrepid souls were still on their night shift standing a faithful watch over the Arch in anticipation of its debut performance on the morrow. They, too, were oblivious to the real implications of the project they were serving. Most were just promising Physics or Math students, serving out assignments they thought might help their post-graduate plans.

The cover story shielding the real intent of the Arch was that it was simply a test to see if particles could be moved in time, but it was already advanced well beyond that stage. Objects had been sent through the Arch and retrieved intact. Encouraged by their success they tried to send through small mechanical probes with cameras to capture images of the ‘other side.’ These never came back in a functioning state. The fragile electronics would just not work in the intense, otherworldly environment of the Arch. This fueled much of the debate about the long term prospects for success. Clearly things were going somewhere , but there was no evidence to prove they had actually traveled in time. Paul insisted that only a human being could make that determination, but could a person actually move through the arch and yet live? Could a sentient being travel in time, and interact with the past Meridian to change future events? These were the real questions the impending test planned to answer.

The rain was abating somewhat when they abandoned the Subaru and confronted the third security barrier before gaining entrance to the facility. This time each member had to pass a retinal scan, but at least they were in the outer hall and screened from the rain and cold. Once cleared, the inner doors opened with a click and they rushed through the lab entrance. Paul led the group, walking at a brisk pace with Kelly right behind him, the laptop computer huddled close to his chest and cradled like an infant in his arms.

“Evening Dr. Dorland.” A bright young graduate assistant that Dorland had enlisted as a project technician greeted them as they burst into the lab.

“Hello Jennifer, glad to see someone knows we’ve got a project underway here.” Dorland winked at her as they rushed in. “Is the Arch on standby?”

“Yes, sir. We started warming things up a few hours ago… But with the news and all, I thought—”

“Turn the generators over, Jen. We’re going to need full power in one hour. Kelly, you want to start the data feed?”

“I’m on it,” said Kelly, and he was already throwing off his coat and unzipping the satchel that held his laptop.

Jennifer, the lab assistant, stared from one person to the next, a bit wide eyed to find all four senior team members arriving in the dead of the night. She reached up and removed the MP3 player earphones she had been passing the time with, a bit flustered with the sudden intrusion in the quiet of the evening. She had been hiding from the stream of news events on the radio by playing a few of her favorite songs. Now, as she looked from one senior team member to another, the urgency that was driving the world on finally came home to her. At one point she thought the project would be called off, but now she could see that it was clearly more important than ever. She smoothed back a lock of her medium length hair, trying to gain some sense of composure in the growing haste of the others. “Evening, Professor,” she said to Nordhausen, but Robert was too preoccupied with his thoughts to heed her. “Then we’re still planning the experiment on schedule for tomorrow morning?”

Maeve rushed into a side room, her arms expanded around an immense bundled laundry bag. Jennifer instinctively went to help her but was intercepted by Paul. “Now Jen,” he tugged on her arm to emphasize his point. “We need the power ramped up ASAP.”

“Now? But—”

“Take it to 80% immediately. Is there anyone else on site?”

“Just Tom, down in the generator room. The storm has been causing a few problems and—”

“Tell Tom to turn that baby over right away. I want 80% power inside half an hour.”

“But, sir…”

The look Dorland gave her was enough to quell her protest. His dark eyes had a determined fire in them, and she surrendered with a confused nod, running off to the far alcove where the intercom enabled quick communication with the generator room. Dorland allowed himself a fleeting glance at her as she went, noting how the swathe of her amber hair caught the light. He always had a fond spot for Jen, and was not surprised to find her on duty tonight with the prep-team, or what was left of it. He knew the others were not due to check in for hours, and there would be no time to get anyone on the phone, particularly on night like this. No, they were going to have to manage with Jen and Tom, and this thought led him to revisit the discussion about who would be going through the Arch on the mission.

He looked around the room, noting how Nordhausen was already hunched at a desk, his nose buried in his weathered volume of the Seven Pillars. Kelly had the laptop interfaced, working with uncanny reflexive efficiency as he began to fire up the main system monitors. Maeve was in the anteroom, sorting all the clothing they had gathered from the theater wardrobes into neat piles. They had decided to give themselves as many options as possible, finding traditional British Army uniforms that they could wear beneath the more voluminous outer robes and headdress that would be typical of the Arab peoples of the time. This way, their obvious handicap in only speaking English, might be explained if they should run into trouble.

“What if we run into Lawrence’s men?” Maeve had argued on the way to the facility. “We’ll have to get very close to the place where they will be lying in wait if we are to have any hope of preventing their charge from going off. Has anyone even thought about this? These men were a bit wild and headstrong, weren’t they?”

“We’ll just have to risk it,” Dorland had said. “The British garb will be our ace in the hole in that event. God help us if we run afoul of the Turks, however.”

Now, as Paul considered the matter again, he was wondering who should take that risk. There was no question in his mind that he should go. It was his theory, and his project. Even though it was an awful risk, he felt the burden of responsibility sitting squarely on his shoulders now, and an uneasy sensation began to thrum in his chest as the realization of what they were about to do finally settled in on him. They might get through, he thought. The visitor from the future gave him every indication that they would get through if they tried. But there were still a hundred questions clamoring in his mind, and the greatest of these was the prospect of getting back. Would the retraction algorithm work? How should they set the variables? How much time would they allow? There were so many things they did not know yet.