Annie Nicholas - Scent of Salvation

Today seemed like the perfect day to burn bridges. Technocon, a small technologies company, had promised Susan free rein on all her projects. She ran her lab, hired her own staff, and ordered what she needed within budgetary reason.

Technocon was a liar, and she’d swallowed their scientific support story like it was candy, but really what they had served her was chocolate-dipped bullshit.

Who said a genius couldn’t be an idiot?

Out of public sight, she melted into her office chair and leaned her head against her hands. The universities had laughed at her proposals and her math on dimensional travel. She hadn’t been able to find a grant anywhere to allow her to build her machine, which led her to the private sector—to Technocon.

For five whole minutes, she’d been able to open and sustain a dimensional gateway to…God knows where. She had sent a chimp through and back yesterday with no apparent damage to his cellular structure. Last night she’d celebrated with her team, taking them all to dinner. It seemed like a hundred years ago.

Sitting at her desk, she stared at her blank computer terminal. The last seven years of her life were accumulated on the hard drive. Calculations, theories and articles she’d written. Her gaze wandered. Not a single picture adorned her desk or walls—no boyfriend or kids, not even a pet. How empty it all appeared.

She’d sacrificed everything for a glimpse of blinding blue light that led to possible exploration of the unknown and…adventure. What a waste.

She’d created DOUG as a means for peaceful exploration. To study other cultures on alternate Earths, maybe learn from their mistakes or successes. She doubted the military invading her lab wanted the same thing. Ultimately, she was responsible for any consequences of DOUG’s misuse. As creator, the weight of responsibility sat heavily on her shoulders.

She rose to her feet and straightened her labcoat with a sharp tug. Before she left her office, she grabbed the document her printer spit out and ignored the pointed stares from the soldiers while she exited the work area.

Crumpling the paper in her hand, she strode across the lobby, her labcoat swaying with her momentum. She couldn’t stop seeing the words in her mind’s eye.

Congratulations, the United States Marine Corp (USMC) has a legal interest in the Dimensional Opening Universal Gateway (DOUG), therefore you must present the following list: design specification, running systems, test results…

Didn’t matter how pretty their wordage, they were taking over her freaking life’s work. In less than five minutes she had typed her resignation—not too many ways of saying I fucking quit .

Her heels clicked on the cheap, faux marble flooring, and the sound echoed in the wide open space. The soldiers milling around the area parted like the Red Sea as she stormed toward the closed wooden door to the project manager’s office.

She swung it open and paused, taking a deep, shaky breath. Nothing good ever came from violence. Racing across the manager’s office and tearing out his flabby throat wouldn’t prevent DOUG from falling into the wrong hands.

Jeff sat facing the door. His assistant squirmed in a small plastic chair next to the desk and stared at his tablet.

“Get out, pipsqueak.” Susan pointed to the doorway.

“Yes, Dr. Barlow.” The assistant didn’t even glance at Jeff before jumping to his feet and scurrying from the room.

She slammed the door behind him.

“Was that necessary?” Jeff folded his pudgy fingers over his belly. At first sight, he gave the impression of a chubby favorite uncle, but under that soft exterior lived a cold-hearted number cruncher.

Susan used her best die-and-go-to-hell glare on him but it didn’t work so she tossed her neat resignation on his desk with the crumpled memo instead. “How could you have allowed DOUG to fall into their hands?” She leaned across his desk, jabbing her finger at him to punctuate her words. “You promised no military.” Tightness squeezed her chest. She wouldn’t dare sob in front of this jackal. Clearing her suddenly rough throat, she met his beady-eyed stare.

He spread his hands as if pleading with her. “I never thought in a million years you’d make that thing work.”

She took a step back, his words a slap to her ego. “What?” Her voice rose to a painful octave. “Why fund it then?”

“Tax break. We needed a pro-bono project or Uncle Sam took a chunk of our profits, but you made your crazy idea work. So I had to sell it to stay in the green.”

“They’ll abuse it,” she whispered. “DOUG was meant for exploration. I wanted scientists to cross into other dimensions, people who could understand the delicate balance between universes. Those soldiers will conquer or destroy any dimension they travel to, and God knows what they’ll bring back.”

“Or they’ll prevent us from being the ones who are conquered or destroyed. Did you ever think that maybe a different version of you might be developing the same machine in another dimension?”

“You’re afraid of DOUG. It’s a gateway to learning, trade—” She saved her breath. They’d argued this before a thousand times until she was blue in the face and Jeff’s face had been red.

He lifted the paper she’d thrown on his desk and read her resignation, then promptly dropped it in the shredder. “Nice try, Susan. Read the fine print on your contract. As long as the project is open, you’re bound to it. You can’t quit until you’ve trained a replacement.”

“Or what? I can’t be held prisoner. It’s against my civil rights.” She folded her arms. When she signed the contract she had thought that clause would protect her job, not trap her. Crap. They were going to force her hand somehow. She could see it in Jeff’s smug expression. “The contract states that once completed no one can take over my project without my consent.”

“You still haven’t had a human test subject go through DOUG, only animals. Technically, it’s not finished.”

“Bastard.”

“Flirting won’t get you anywhere with me, toots. According to subsection one seven four, you can get arrested for obstructing a military project of this classification.” He produced a file from his desk and offered it to her. “You’re not a civilian anymore. You’ve been drafted.”

Susan skimmed over the file. “This was prepared ahead of time. How long have you been working on this?”

“Doesn’t matter. Every bigwig with more stripes than brains is waiting for someone to hit the start button on DOUG. Either get in there and take some credit for your hard work or let me call the MPs in to arrest you.” He leaned forward and waited.

“I hate you.”

“I don’t care.” He raised a bushy eyebrow. “You’ll never get another job in research again if you ditch now. Choose.”

Exhaling a long, slow breath, she forced her shoulders not to sag. All that work, all those sleepless nights, and for what? To create a machine the government didn’t understand and would probably misuse. She clenched her fists. No one would take her control of DOUG away. Not now, not ever. “I’ll start it.”

She spun and left his office. He might think he’d outsmarted her, but there was still a way out if she could muster the courage.

Returning to her designated area in Technocon, she forced herself to meet the gaze of anyone brave enough to look her way. She passed a large window in the narrow hallway that didn’t face the outdoors but gave a view inside her lab. DOUG sat in the center of the room, a slim, clear rod standing eight feet tall. She slowed her pace to admire her achievement. At each compass mark rose a smaller version of the main rod. Thick, conductive fiber optic cables connected the rods at their bases, making a circle of electric tentacles.