The bridging chamber fell silent, and so did the viewing room, except for a deep growl coming from Grip’s throat and heavy breathing from Striker. The bridgers had their hands balled into fists and looked like they wanted to punch through the viewing window. Passerina didn’t blame them. She had seen a lot of bloody fights in her life, but she’d never seen anything like the three piles of human sludge on the other side of the window. She’d react the same way if those piles used to be her friends.
Doyle turned his back to the bridging chamber and faced the trainees. He held his hands out, palms down, as if to calm them. “I know this is disturbing. You can rest assured that we will conduct a thorough investigation into what happened, and we’ll take whatever steps are necessary to minimize the chances of it happening again. Fortunately, one of the clients is still alive, and with any luck he’ll shed some light on the situation.”
“I’ll tell you what happened!” Striker said, the veins in his neck standing out. “They were butchered, cooked, and eaten. All the evidence you need is right there. And you know as well as I do there’s no way to prevent it from happening again.” He rubbed his forehead and scalp with both hands. “Goddammit!”
Tempest chimed in. “We’ve been trying to tell you the bio-probe needs to be expanded.”
“Sending four lab rats simply isn’t enough,” Striker said. “Not even close!”
Doyle nodded. “Okay. You’re absolutely right. Regardless of the expense involved, we’ll expand the set of test animals included in each bio-probe. We’ll start using a variety of species, perhaps even some that are large—sheep or some other large mammal. Hopefully this will help us determine if the world is predator-rich, or if there are… well, hunters.”
“How did their bodies bridge back?” asked the trainee Rory Duffy, who was still staring through the window. “I mean, don’t they have to, like, be in a certain place to bridge back? Or at least be alive?”
Striker sighed. “You’re injected with a radioisotope marker before you bridge out. This marker decays at a very predictable rate. When about 1.5% of it is left, your body bridges back.”
Doyle cleared his throat. “These folks haven’t signed the nondisclosure forms yet.”
Striker ignored him and continued. “Doesn’t matter where you are. Doesn’t matter if you’re dead or alive.” He glanced at the bridging chamber. “And, as you can see, it doesn’t even matter whether you’re in one piece, or even partially eaten and digested. Your body bridges back after thirty-six hours.”
Striker looked from one trainee to the next. “Look, you’ve already been told this job will be dangerous. But keep the following in mind—this is our seventh excursion, and we’ve had some close calls, but this is the first excursion in which we’ve had casualties. If you decide this game isn’t for you, then don’t sweat it. You can leave tomorrow. Otherwise, we’ll resume training at 7:30 AM.” He turned and left the tiny room, and Grip and Tempest followed.
After a few long seconds of silence, Doyle finally said, “I’d be happy to try to answer any questions you may have, assuming they involve information I can share at this time.”
The trainees glanced around awkwardly at each other.
Passerina had more questions now than ever before, but at this moment she only needed to know one thing. She said, “I assume this place has a gym, with heavy bags?”
Doyle gave her a puzzled look, but then he replied, “Certainly. It’s at the end of the west hall, past the cafeteria.”
She nodded and then turned to leave. She would need about an hour of hard kicking and hitting to calm her nerves.
As she was leaving the viewing room, Scottie spoke up. “Mr. Doyle, this might be a good time to tell us exactly how much money we’ll be earning for each bridging excursion.”
10
Anthropology
Four Weeks Later
Infinity took one more long, lingering breath and then opened her eyes. She felt more serene than she had half an hour ago. Jamil Colley, the new bridger now known as Dragon, had taught her the meditative practice known as Mokuso. He had taught her to visualize her own methodical breathing, and this worked better for her than Striker’s suggestion of visualizing a potential battle.
Before standing up, she took a few moments to reflect on all she’d gone through to get to this day, the eve of her first bridging excursion. Training had been nothing like what she’d expected. Striker had told the trainees they’d be lucky to make it through the program, and therefore Infinity had expected a grueling physical challenge. Training had been challenging, for sure, but mostly on an emotional level. Each of Striker’s exercises had been designed to mentally prepare trainees to calmly face just about any type of horrendous threat they could imagine, and even ones they couldn’t. As he had said, being a good bridger was mostly about attitude and quick thinking.
That wasn’t to say the program hadn't challenged her physically or taught her combat skills—it definitely had. But these aspects of the training had focused on wilderness survival skills—being able to use whatever resources were at hand. Infinity had learned to make spears from tree limbs, strong cord from plant fibers, sleeping platforms from the highest sturdy branches in the trees, moccasins from animal skins, shoes from woven reeds, and fire from friction between pieces of wood. She had learned to survive naked for thirty-six hours in just about any environment that wasn’t subfreezing.
Now it was time to prove she really had what it took to be a bridger.
She unfolded her legs, rose from the floor of her bunk room, and stepped over to the mirror to gaze at her reflection. The new tattoo on her chest was mostly healed now, and she found herself staring at it anytime she had the chance. It was a detailed tattoo of a multicolored bird, a painted bunting, which had the genus name Passerina. For years she had wanted this tattoo but had never had the money for it. Two weeks ago, when she and the other new bridgers had completed their initial training, SafeTrek had hired two tattoo artists to come to the facility. The artists’ primary job had been to ink the SafeTrek logo onto each bridger’s wrist or hand. But then Cobra and Dragon had decided they also wanted tattoos of the creatures they had chosen to name themselves after. Armando Doyle had apparently liked the idea and had told the entire group that SafeTrek would pay for an additional tattoo for each bridger, if they wanted one. Infinity wasn’t about to pass up this offer.
She traced the bird’s outline with her finger. The tattoo was the last remaining piece of her old life, the last reminder of who she had been before becoming Infinity.
She lifted her other hand and gazed at the new tattoo on her wrist, an infinity triangle with the word SafeTrek beneath it. Doyle had said these SafeTrek tattoos might be useful in several situations. For example, if they ever bridged to a world with a recent divergence and encountered the other versions of themselves, then the tattoo might be the only way to distinguish the two otherwise-identical bodies. Doyle hadn’t elaborated on why this would even be important. To Infinity, the tattoo seemed like the bridger version of an army dog tag. A real dog tag would, of course, be stripped away by the bridging process.
The tattoos would also be partially stripped away, since the ink wasn’t actually part of her living body tissue. Striker had told her the tattoos would become fainter with each excursion. She would eventually need to have them re-inked—numerous times if she survived her entire five-year employment commitment.
Infinity had gradually become more comfortable wearing no clothing, particularly while meditating, so she was now naked. She pulled on some shorts and a tank top and left her bunk room without bothering to put on shoes.
She knocked on Tequila’s door. “Scottie! Quit napping, old man. Bio-probe in fifteen minutes.”
A faint groan came from within the bunk room, and then Tequila yanked his door open. “There’s no one here by the name of Scottie. And there sure ain’t no old man.”
“What’s up, Infinity,” Leviathan called out from within the room. �
��I hope your bio-probe comes back good.” He nodded toward Tequila and said, “This knucklehead’s climbing the goddamn walls. If he has to wait another two days, I’m going to lose my mind.”
Infinity hadn't really let herself consider the possibility that the bio-probe animals might return dead, in which case another bio-probe would have to be sent out to a different world, and Infinity and Tequila would have to wait until the next probe returned to bridge out, assuming it was successful. That would push their much-anticipated first excursion back two more days. Longer, if the second bio-probe also failed.
Infinity tried to force a smile, but her anxiety probably made it look more like a grimace. She turned to Tequila and said, “Let’s go.”
He stepped out, and they headed for the bridging chamber viewing room.
“I swear to God, Infinity, if you call me Scottie in front of the clients….”
“Relax, Tequila,” she said. “I was just messing with you.” She glanced at him as they passed through the lobby. “You know I’m glad you’re my bridging partner, right? Tomorrow we’re going to show Striker what kind of bridgers come out of the Scrapyard.”
He nodded. “Damn right.”
Infinity and Tequila had asked Striker to be paired up, and he had agreed. After having witnessed the horrifying bridge-back a month ago, three of the trainees had decided they were no longer interested in the job, and they were gone the following day. This left six trainees. Dagger and Leviathan had been the first pair to go on an excursion, and Grip had accompanied them as a supervisor. After that, Dragon and Cobra had gone on their first excursion, supervised by Tempest. Both those excursions had gone well, and the clients had returned with only sunburns and minor scratches.
Infinity and Tequila were up next. If the test animals returned alive, they’d be bridging out in the morning, with Striker as their supervisor. Once a pair of trainees completed two excursions with a supervisor, they would be considered fully-trained bridgers.
Infinity and Tequila entered the viewing room and joined Striker, Armando Doyle, and the two clients scheduled for the excursion, Jarvis Knighton and Horton Munns. Infinity and Tequila had met the clients earlier that day, but only briefly. Infinity didn’t even know what kind of scientists they were or what kind of data they intended to collect. All she knew was that they had requested an alternate world with a divergence of 50,000 years. Although she’d never admit it, she was privately relieved that the divergence point wasn’t more extreme, like two or three million years.
Once they were all crowded into the viewing room, Jarvis and Horton made a point of shaking hands with both Tequila and Infinity. Infinity had never really met any scientists before, and she was pleasantly surprised that these two men were so easy to talk to.
Doyle rubbed his hands together. “Doctors Knighton and Munns have a fascinating hypothesis, which will be tested gradually through not just one excursion but an entire series!”
Horton nodded. “Jarvis and I are proud to be the first anthropologists to make use of bridging technology for our research. Apparently all of your previous clients have been evolutionary biologists. Would you like to hear what we’re interested in studying?”
Infinity shrugged. “Sure.”
“We believe humans are set apart from all other animals by a unique characteristic—a remarkably consistent set of behavioral tendencies based upon certain universal behaviors. These universal behaviors are related to ethics, curiosity, industrial and scientific ambitions, and even spirituality. If these behaviors are as consistent as we think they are, then human colonization, expansion, and eventual industrialization in North America would end up following nearly the same trajectory over and over again, even if the entire process were to start again.”
The other guy, Jarvis, added, “Humans are thought to have migrated into North America somewhere in the neighborhood of 40,000 years ago. We intend to bridge to a number of different versions of Earth, each having diverged from ours 50,000 years ago. On each excursion, we will observe a different outcome of human progress in North America over the last 50,000 years. This is a form of scientific inquiry previously considered impossible—multiple iterations of human cultural development.”
As if they were tag-teaming, Horton took over again. “If the human societies on most or all of the worlds we visit are similar, this will support our hypothesis. This is a truly amazing opportunity to better understand human nature.”
The two anthropologists fell silent, apparently finished with their explanation. Infinity glanced awkwardly at Tequila, trying to come up with an intelligent-sounding remark or question but failing. Striker simply stood to the side with his arms crossed. Infinity didn’t really care why these guys wanted to bridge, as long as she finally got to do her job. She was ready to experience the sensation of bridging, to see a new world for the first time, and especially to put her life on the line to protect SafeTrek’s clients. She suddenly realized that, after all her preparation, she might even be disappointed if they didn’t encounter at least a little danger.
“Absolutely fascinating!” Doyle said, breaking the silence once he realized no one was going to speak. “I’m honored that SafeTrek can be a part of such a profound scientific inquiry.”
Infinity wondered whether Horton and Jarvis would still be so eager to go on multiple excursions after they had spent thirty-six hours naked without eating or drinking, not to mention the three days of patho-cleansing and chemo-cleansing they’d be subjected to afterwards.
The tech’s voice came over the comm. “One minute until bio-probe bridge-back.”
They all turned toward the viewing window. Infinity pressed her hand against the plexiglass. This was a habit she’d developed in recent weeks. She had no idea what caused the window to flex outward from the chamber at the moment of bridging, but she liked how it felt against her hand.
“I’m not a superstitious man, but my fingers are crossed for the successful return of our bio-probe,” Doyle said. He held up his fingers, apparently to prove he really had them crossed.
Infinity had grown to like Doyle. There was something endearing about his childish expressions and behaviors. He was like a young boy living in the body of an intelligent, sixty-year-old man. And not just any man—the CEO of the world’s most revolutionary tech company.
“Ten seconds to bridge-back.”
The viewing room fell silent. The viewing window bulged slightly, pushing Infinity's hand back an inch or so. Creatures of different shapes and sizes appeared in the center of the bridging chamber and dropped to the padded floor. They struggled to their feet and immediately began running around the chamber in complete panic. Infinity glanced at the floor in the center of the room. There wasn’t a dead animal body anywhere.
Seconds later, the bridging chamber’s hatch opened. Bio-techs swarmed in to round up the animals. As they caught each one, they connected it to a temperature probe and a heart monitor. The creatures—all of them mammals—were completely hairless, which Infinity thought made them look kind of alien. Despite their strange appearance, she knew there were two mice, two rats, two guinea pigs, two cats, two rabbits, and two sheep. This grouping of twelve test animals had become the standard after the horrific failure four weeks ago. The sheep, which weighed close to a hundred pounds each, were now included based on the assumption that their large body size would help determine whether a destination world was occupied by human hunters or some other creatures fond of killing and eating whatever appeared in their territory.
“One hundred percent survival!” Doyle exclaimed. “A most successful bio-probe!”
“Body temperature within normal range,” one of the techs said over the comm. Several other techs repeated this finding for the other animals.
“No signs of excess physical trauma or stress,” one tech said. “We’ll take them to the lab for complete analysis, but initial examination indicates that these animals are quite healthy.”
Doyle rubbed his hands together again and
turned away from the viewing window. “Excellent! Pending complete analysis, I’d say your bridging excursion is a go. The destination world appears to be safe.”
Striker uncrossed his arms and stepped forward. “Drink several bottles of water before going to bed,” he said to Infinity, Tequila, and the anthropologists. “And try to eat again tonight. That’ll give the food and water time to absorb into your bloodstream. Once it’s in your blood, it’s yours to keep. Anything still in your digestive tract will be stripped away when you bridge, so it won’t do you much good to eat in the morning. Most importantly, though, get some sleep. I know you’re probably nervous and excited, so we have sleeping pills available if you want them. This is important, as it’s likely you won’t get a chance to sleep during the thirty-six hours of the excursion. A tech will come to your room just before 6:00 AM to administer the radioisotope marker. We bridge out at precisely 7:00 AM.” Striker then exited the room unceremoniously.
Doyle cleared his throat and turned to the trainees and clients. “Yes, well then, now that your excursion is imminent, there is a bit of pesky paperwork we must attend to. There are certain things you’ve seen and that you will learn shortly that are not to be shared outside this facility. I’m afraid it’s time to sign those nondisclosure agreements you’ve been hearing about.”
“We’ve signed those already,” Tequila said.
“Not all of them,” Doyle said. “Everyone signs one last set on the eve of their first excursion.”
Infinity was barely listening at this point. Her heart was racing. This was it. In less than twelve hours she’d be on the other side of the viewing window.
11
Bridge-out
Infinity cursed silently and tried again to recite the bridger’s creed.
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