by Jim Lombardo
Anderson didn’t know what it was, but he certainly knew that the baseball-sized object Dr. Murray was inquiring about couldn’t possibly be what he had encountered in the room. It was too big. If he had swatted at that, he would no longer have a hand. He speculated it was a ball that a person would be given to squeeze when having blood drawn. Perhaps it had been inadvertently kicked and had rolled away from the medical kit during the commotion. Then as Scott zoomed in even further so that the object took up the majority of the screen, something sent a chill up Anderson’s back. The ball he was looking at was not actually resting on the ground, but floating just above it. Moreover it was shooting off the same rainbow of colors that he had seen earlier in the detector room.
“Oh, man...that’s it!” he said with a mixture of fear and fascination. “That’s what hurt me! That’s the same black sphere…it’s just grown!”
Chapter Forty-One
Tuning In (6.30 years old)
Six-year-old Hannah, Monica, and Brian were watching a Boston Red Sox baseball game on TV at their mountain cottage hideaway. They had secretly purchased the property in the White Mountains of New Hampshire so they could occasionally take a break, and bask in some anonymity in between the demanding series of public engagements that were becoming a part of their regular lives. Although their financial situation had improved greatly, they still called their rented duplex in Gloucester home, as Hannah loved living with the twins downstairs, now her officially designated BFFs.
Hannah was amused at the coverage of fans at Fenway Park performing an audience wave. Everyone was rising from their chairs, raising their arms above their heads and shouting in a sequential way, such that a human wave was traveling around and around the park. Metachronal rhythm, she recognized. Waves rule. Just then, the telecast was interrupted by a special news report.
A rather disheveled-looking reporter was seated at an anchor desk. “We’re waiting right now for a press conference with Dr. Bruce Murray, the CEO of the European Physics Inquest Commission, also known as EPIC, from their headquarters in Oxford, England. There’s been some type of serious accident or incident at the Super Stonehenge Collider. What we can confirm now is that one physicist working at the Titan detector, just north of that city, has been killed, and two others have sustained non-life-threatening injuries from some type of experiment gone awry. People living within three miles of the detector are being told to evacuate the area until everything is under control and deemed safe. Okay...okay...we are bringing you now to EPIC.”
Dr. Murray first read a prepared statement, explaining the facts as he knew them, but stressing that there was a lot that was still unknown. Terming the evacuation a “precautionary measure” until they could gather more data, he pledged to keep the public updated regularly. As he began to field questions, he could sense the anxiety in the reporters’ voices.
“Doctor, what exactly killed Dr. Houseman? Do you know at all?”
“Doctor, could this situation get worse? Are we in real danger?”
The threat of mass hysteria loomed, and Murray was exasperated that he, the head of the largest European scientific organization, found himself unable to answer even the most basic questions. He apologized for his lack of information and ducked out, explaining that he needed to join his colleagues working on the problem. He promised to reconvene with everyone at eight o’clock the following morning.
At the cottage, Hannah turned to her mother.
“Hmmm, almost Hannah-time, methinks.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Moving Day
By late evening, the pitch-black object had swelled to the size of a cantaloupe and was on the move, heading towards the southwest containment wall of Titan’s subterranean domain. Government officials expanded the police perimeter around the building out of fear that the object could pose a danger to the men and women guarding the site.
The following morning, the video in the detector room showed no sign of the mass, and there was hope that it had fizzled out. However, the sound detectors were picking up a loud, eerie buzzing coming from a hole that had been bored into the base of the wall. A helicopter flying above had been able to locate the object using high-powered infrared technology, which could detect heat generated by the friction of the mass moving through the ground at a depth of 300 feet. At this point it was about 200 feet southwest of the building, about three feet wide, and appeared to be picking up speed.
The eight o’clock press conference had been postponed twice, each time by one hour, as EPIC struggled to come up with a resolution, or any answers at all for the public as to what was happening. Unfortunately these delays and the lack of information were fueling a rapid rise in anxiety, as were the press and social media, now abuzz with rampant rumors and theories. The press conference did finally get underway around half past ten, but offered little more than a repeat of the one the previous evening. Dr. Murray brought everyone up to date on the scant facts which were known, but still couldn’t provide any reassurances.
Inside EPIC offices and research labs, physicists spent the day brainstorming and engaged in passionate, often heated arguments over how to approach the problem. Most discussions were little more than shouting matches, as a consensus could not be reached. There were bleak predictions that the object was some type of black hole that could lead to total decimation. Many were already advising a bomb be detonated near it to try to blast it apart, and they felt this needed to be carried out as quickly as possible before its size rendered it indestructible. Others felt the best course of action was to research the orb, learn from its behavior, and only then decide upon the correct manner of dealing with it.
Chapter Forty-Three
Mammoth Cave
Two days following the death of Patrick Houseman, the situation continued to intensify. The ball was now estimated to be 15 feet in diameter, and had accelerated substantially, having burrowed underground for an entire mile due southwest.
Physicists voluntarily agreed to shut down experimentation on all of the other particle accelerators/colliders located around the world, until the issue was cleared up and completely understood. There was fear that any one of these machines could unwittingly unleash another mass, or even a band of them.
Anderson and Neil were summoned early to Dr. Murray’s lab. When they entered, the doctor was there with a group of top-ranking EPIC physicists. They quizzed Anderson more specifically about his research, which had some original aspects to it. His penchant for ingenuity was one of the primary reasons he had been hired in the first place.
They asked Neil if he would be willing to enter the tunnel left in the object’s wake to approach it, observe and investigate it. Neil understood how risky the operation would be, but also appreciated its importance. He also knew, as did Murray, that he was uniquely qualified for this mission given his lifetime of experience exploring cave systems.
Neil was not intimidated by being in enclosed spaces, and this went well beyond the serpentine confines of the SSC detectors’ crawlspaces. A lifelong cave explorer, he was immune to claustrophobia. In fact about 10 years prior, while exploring a cave in the vast underground expanse of Mammoth Cave in south central Kentucky, he had ventured away from his partners to descend headfirst into an unexplored, corkscrew-shaped vertical shaft, only two feet wide. Neil had been headstrong in his conviction that the crevice would eventually open up into another roomier area of the system. But by the time he became doubtful, the passage had become even narrower, and it was no longer possible to reverse course. So he felt that his best bet was to tunnel on, even though he could feel his body being compressed more and more. He had continued to wriggle himself downward another 20 feet with his arms outstretched in front of him to conserve space, until he unfortunately came to a dead end. Here, he had only enough room to expand his chest for shallow breaths. Upside down and hopelessly wedged between two sharp rocks, he had no physical way to extract himself or c
all for help. He wasn’t even able to shut off the light attached to his helmet to conserve battery power.
Still, Neil was unfazed. He knew that in time his friends would miss him, and seek him out in the most unlikely of places. This predicament may have even been somewhat amusing to him had it not been for the water trickling down his entire body from a flash rainstorm earlier in the day. It tickled him mercilessly, but of greater significance, it was feeding a pool of water below him that was gradually inching its way up his arms towards his face.
Three hours later his best friend had finally come across the soles of Neil’s dusty caving boots in the fading light of his headlamp. A rescue team ultimately managed to lug him out with a long rope fashioned with a noose. He was back caving the next day with virtually no change in his attitude to the sport.
At the Titan site, Neil descended into the detector room with his spelunking gear and various scientific tools and instruments, prepared to undertake his expedition. Although air was being piped into the duct which the ball had created, Neil was equipped with an emergency oxygen canister. He was accompanied by two assistants who would provide support from the tunnel’s entranceway. Another team back at EPIC, which included Anderson, would be in constant contact with him via a transmitter, which would operate using a system of wireless relays that Neil would position along his journey.
Earlier, several miners who had been involved with construction of the underwater Chunnel connecting England and France had been dispatched to the detector room. Beginning at the hole in the wall, they had drilled forward using a portable horizontal boring machine. They followed the path of the sphere, until reaching the point where the tunnel in front of them was just big enough for a person to squirm into. The workers would be standing by to dig Neil out in the event of a cave-in. As he prepared to enter the mouth of the passageway, Neil paused and turned back to his assistants with a plucky smile.
“Hey, if you haven’t heard from me in a few months, could you send out a search party?”
Before the men had a chance to appreciate the joke, Neil dove in head first, and began to snake his way forward on his belly. After making good progress, he felt the shaft widening, making it easier to slither along. He continued on, guided by the beam of his headlamp, toward a siren sound in the distance. Soon, Neil was able to crawl on his hands and knees, and then eventually had enough headroom to walk normally as he approached the unknown. As instructed, he stopped periodically to drop the relays and scrape samples of dirt for analysis.
“Not registering any unusual radioactivity,” he radioed, “but the consistency of the soil is really weird. The sides of the tunnel are hard and incredibly flat, like they were sanded and polished. I’m seeing cross-sections of rocks and boulders that were in the way. The surfaces are flush with the walls, and smooth as glass, like they were inlaid into a mosaic. This thing is creative, but pushy.”
As he trekked forward, Neil was able to visually confirm that the object was traveling in a straight line, generally horizontal to the ground, and was digging away evenly in a circular shape as it grew in size. After about a mile and a half Neil began to see a glowing light source ahead of him.
“I’m getting close to it,” he radioed back to his support teams. “I’d say the walls of the channel are about 25 feet apart now. The thing’s loud as hell. Oh...wait a sec...oh, that’s it. Well, I can’t see it actually. But there’s colors, and sparks shooting out towards me...from…what is that thing?”
The EPIC team members nervously shifted in their seats, and agreed amongst themselves it was time to pull the plug on the mission. But before they delivered the order, Neil’s next transmission was received and sounded odd. His speech was dragging, and much lower in pitch. “Wwhhaaat…aarrre…yyyooouuu?”
“Get out of there!” shouted Anderson.
Neil didn’t recognize his colleague’s voice. To him it sounded high-pitched and fast. A peculiar sensation overtook his entire body. He made a quick U-turn, and hustled back to the detector room.
At a debriefing later that night, Neil and EPIC reviewed the data he had collected. Aside from the texture of the soil and rocks, nothing in the wake of the object was deemed unusual. However, one aspect steeped in mystery was EPIC’s recording of the engineer’s statements just before he had left the far end of the tunnel. Neil couldn’t explain why he sounded different when in close proximity to the object, and was surprised to learn that it was Anderson who had yelled “Get out of there!” He was certain it had been a woman speaking, due to the high voice. The group considered the possibility of radio interference, or a malfunction with the wireless relays as the cause of Neil’s awkward sounding voice. And they wondered if he had simply misheard Anderson’s warning due to the loud wailing of the orb.
Chapter Forty-Four
Volunteerism
The following day in Gloucester, Massachusetts, a blue sedan turned into the driveway of the Blakes’ home. The usual gaggle of fans sat on the front steps and milled about the lawn hoping to get a glimpse of Hannah. There were also two cable news television trucks parked in front, with antennae poles extending 50 feet into the air for live broadcasts, hoping to get the child’s reaction to what had unquestionably become an international crisis. In a single day the orb’s diameter had tripled in size to an estimated 75 feet, and barreled an astounding 9 miles in total away from Titan. Scientists were struggling to keep up with it, and there was no sign of it petering out whatsoever.
Two men exited the car and started making their way towards the front door. They appeared amusingly clone-like, both with slight builds, short beards, geeky glasses, and sporting modest tweed blazers, dungarees, and sneakers.
“They’re not home,” someone in the group called out to them.
One of the men rang the bell anyway, and they waited a couple of minutes. One then left to try the back door, peering into the first floor windows as he walked along. He noticed wooden blinds on a window being lowered as he passed. Seeing no doorbell at the back entrance, he rapped on the door the Blakes shared with the Silvas. The door swung open. It was Tony, barefoot and dressed only in shorts and a white t-shirt.
“What do you want? You’re freakin’ out my kids,” said Tony.
“Sorry to bother you, I’m from the Cambridge Technology Institute. My colleague and I are trying to reach Hannah Blake. It’s about the problem over in England.”
“Well, they’re not here. They’re on vacation. Actually they’re taking a vacation from all of this,” he said as the other people outside the house, hearing the conversation, were now converging on the doorway.
“Where are they? Can you make a statement?” one of the reporters shouted, shoving a microphone into Tony’s face.
“Yeah, sure, I’ll make a statement. Everyone get the hell out of here.”
Just then a hinge on a microphone boom being lowered over Tony gave way, and he was bopped on the head by a nerf-covered mike. Tony moved towards the soundman, shouting at him. That sent others crashing into one another, and within seconds the crowd was a scrum of people pushing and shouting angrily. This went on for a minute until suddenly a young girl’s voice brought the group to an immediate silence.
“May I help you?” Hannah called out, appearing in the driveway, accompanied by one of the CTI scientists.
Brian and Monica followed behind her, rolling their suitcases along. The reporters and cameramen rushed towards the girl.
“Can you make a statement about Oxford?”
“Absolutely, I’d be happy to,” she said. Hannah moved towards the house and marched up to the top of a few cement stairs that led to a common side entrance into the basement and the back stairwell. She turned toward everyone and waited for the crowd to settle down.
“Good afternoon, everyone. I have been following the situation in England, and I’m hoping to join the scientific community in short order to see if I can assist them. I
would like to say that I’ve heard a number of journalists on TV and the radio forecasting gloom and doom. But I want you all to know that I respectfully disagree with them. Just as it was man’s curiosity and spirit of discovery that caused this situation in the first place, those same qualities are now going to get it resolved. Remember who we are as humans. We are voyagers of oceans, explorers of space, the moon and planets. We are pioneers of our Universe, and we will find a solution. As a symbol of our unity as human beings, and the need for us all to join together on this, I ask that everyone consider flying the Olympic flag until the matter is concluded. I will keep you all posted. Thank you so much.”
Hannah and her parents refused questions and made their way into the side door, inviting only the two scientists in. The men were physics professors at Cambridge Technology Institute. Each of them were conducting research in a new state-of-the-art photonics lab on campus. They had been contacted by Anderson, who was a former frat brother of theirs at CTI. He had suggested they try to contact Hannah to get some fresh ideas on the alarming phenomenon. Anderson had grown up in Marblehead, Massachusetts, a neighboring coastal town to Gloucester. He had closely followed and been intrigued by the child’s accomplishments over the past few years, and thought the nearby lab might be an ideal setting if she wanted to get involved.
Hannah was excited about the prospect, but Monica, and especially Brian, were wary. After enjoying a much-needed respite from the circus atmosphere of their life in the limelight, were they going to agree to put Hannah and themselves right back into the center ring?
The scientists told the Blakes that they had approval from the institute to host the entire family in a comfortable, private apartment suite on campus, which was commonly used by visiting professors. Hannah would have just a short walk to and from the Photonics Center where she could work on the issue with professors and researchers until it was settled.
