“Do not leave the cave,” Ripple said quietly. “You are safer in here.”
“I told you not to lie to me again,” she hissed.
“I am not lying. Stay behind me.”
“Alo tofekho dél!”
The words had come from the man at the cave’s mouth. Skyra turned to look. The man was entering the cave, crouching low, holding his khul ready.
“Stay behind me,” Ripple repeated.
The rock walls around Skyra grew bright, as if the sun had come down from the sky and entered the cave. At the same time, a wail unlike anything she had ever heard filled the air. She dropped her khul and covered one ear with her good hand, but before she could close her eyes, she saw a monstrous cave bear, only a few body lengths away.
In spite of the brightness of Ripple’s light, Skyra’s eyes refused to close. She stared at the cave bear, certain it was about to tear her to shreds. The creature let out a deafening roar, drowning out Ripple’s high-pitched cry, then threw itself against a jumble of rocks at the back of the cave, apparently trying to get away from the light and sound. It rammed into the rocks again, actually moving some that were larger than Skyra’s body. The back of the cave provided no escape, so the bear turned and barreled toward the cave mouth. It ran headlong into a rock column that Skyra had not even seen in the darkness. The bear let out another panicked roar and ran around the column, hitting Skyra’s injured shoulder, knocking her out of its way and into the opposite wall beside Ripple.
The wail abruptly stopped, and Skyra heard men shouting, one of them even screaming. She pushed against the floor with her good hand to roll over, then an unbearable pain rushed up one of her legs. She cried out as the pain spread to the rest of her body. In the harsh light of Ripple’s orb, she saw chunks of rock collapsing around her. The cave’s mouth went dark.
Something hit the side of her face, and she realized Ripple was positioning itself above her with two legs straddling her head and two on either side of her chest.
Everything fell silent. As abruptly as the cave-in had started, it was over.
“Skyra, are you alive?”
She heard herself moaning, as if the sounds were coming from someone else. The pain in her leg wouldn’t allow her to stifle the moans. She threw her good hand up to clap it over her mouth, only to strike Ripple’s shell. She grunted, “Get off me!”
The creature stepped aside and turned toward her with barely enough room to maneuver. Its glowing orb shone in her face, forcing her to shut her eyes.
“Yes, you are alive. I am pleased. I think we can assume the bear is gone or perhaps crushed, and I believe you are safe from the men as well.”
She lifted her head high enough to see her leg, the source of her new pain. Her foot and ankle were beneath a boulder, probably mashed into paste. She tried pulling her leg loose, but it wouldn’t move. “I am not safe! I am going to die, and the bolup men will kill Veenah.”
Ripple turned to the side, hoisted its front legs onto the boulder, and leapt onto the rock. It disappeared to the other side, although Skyra could see its light bouncing over the walls and ceiling as it scuttled around in the confined space. She lay her head back on the hard rock. Why had she allowed Ripple to lead her in here? She should have refused. Maybe she could have entered one of the smaller caves and fought the bolups one at a time as they tried to enter.
The light shone in her face again as Ripple came back over the boulder. It positioned itself beside her. “There is no path out of this collapsed cave, and I do not have the strength required to move the rocks that now entomb us. I am sorry to say you are correct. You are going to die here.”
Skyra knew this already, but that didn’t stop her from letting out a single sob.
“It is possible that Veenah will escape from the humans. Veenah is important, as you are. We will hope that she lives.”
Skyra stared up at the contours of the jagged stone ceiling, still illuminated by the creature’s orb. “Why do you say I am important? And Veenah? Is that another lie you tell me so I will try harder?”
“You told me to never lie to you again, and so I will not. Besides, trying harder now will not save you. You are going to die here.”
“Stop saying that and answer my question.”
Ripple’s circle of red lights glowed once and then became dark. “That is a question that would take much time to answer adequately, and I’m afraid the answer would not help us in our predicament. I will tell you this, Skyra. It has been a true pleasure and privilege to be your companion for all these days and months. You have given me purpose such as I have never known before. I only wish I could have helped you survive.”
Skyra didn’t understand all the words her friend had used, but she understood enough. She closed her eyes and focused on ignoring the pain. Her crushed foot had no feeling at all, but her leg above it felt like it was being held over a campfire.
“Ripple,” she said, “I want you to kill me.”
“I have no way of killing you without using violent means, and I will not do such a thing. If you wish for such a death, you will have to do it on your own.”
She felt around with her good hand and found a rock a bit smaller than her head. Slowly and for practice, she lifted it and went through the motion of swinging it at her temple. Then she relaxed her arm and let her hand and the rock sink to the cave floor.
Ripple’s orb faded out, and the cave became black. “I do not wish to watch you do such a thing.”
Another sob escaped from her lips, and she released the rock to wipe her face.
A scratching sound came from beside her, like a shrew or rat digging for food.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I am creating a message.”
“What is a message?”
The scratching stopped. “It is a way of communicating with others. Again, it would take much time to explain properly.” The noise began again.
Skyra closed her eyes and put her hand back on the rock. She lifted it.
The scratching stopped again. “I do not want you to kill yourself at this time.”
“Why?”
“Because you may have several hours left to live.”
She didn’t know what hours were and didn’t care. “I want to die now.”
“That is because you have never heard me tell you stories before. I happen to be quite adept at telling stories.” The creature shifted in the dark. Its orb began to glow just slightly, and now Skyra could see that it was resting on its belly. “I will tell you stories until you die.”
She lowered the rock. “What about your message?”
“There will be plenty of time for that. Please become as comfortable as you can, Skyra, because I consider these stories to be real humdingers.”
4
Broadcast
47,659 years later - Northwest of Tucson, Arizona, USA
Lincoln closed his eyes and focused on controlling his heart rate. Why in the name of Hawking had he agreed to a live broadcast of the jump? He hated being on television. However, if he didn’t return—and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t—he wanted people to remember him and his team based on what he had to say rather than the twisted words of trolls and haters.
He opened his eyes and pulled his braided ponytail around to the front and then ran his fingers through the loose curls atop his scalp.
Before him stood a single camera, a camerawoman, and a broadcasting tech, all from GTN, the network that won the bid for this opportunity. Lincoln refused to allow an actual reporter to participate. This was his exposition and self eulogy, not a damn interview.
He raised his brows at the camerawoman. “How much time?”
“One minute, nineteen seconds.”
Lincoln turned to Jazzlyn, Virgil, and Derek. “You’ve already said your goodbyes to the people who matter most to you, so you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. You guys okay?”
They all nodded, clearly nervous as hell, although pro
bably not so much due to the broadcast.
Lincoln looked down at Maddy, who was standing beside Jazzlyn. “What about you? Are you okay?”
Maddy’s circle of red lights blinked once, indicating she understood she was being addressed. “I assume your question is rhetorical, as you know I am in the same condition I was yesterday at this time.”
“So answer the rhetorical question.”
“All systems go, captain.”
“Fifteen seconds, Mr. Woodhouse.” The camerawoman watched Lincoln’s face to make sure her update was understood before she turned back to the screen on her camera. The room fell silent, then the woman counted down the last five seconds with her fingers before pointing at Lincoln.
He gazed at the lens for a full three seconds before speaking, a habit he had developed because he knew it stimulated anticipation. He almost smiled then decided smiling would dilute the situation’s gravity.
“Seven months ago,” he said, “I was alerted to the astounding finds at the Pomer paleontological dig site.” No point in introducing himself—there had been hours of ridiculous talk show pontification leading up to this moment. “Many of you believe the drone’s presence at the dig site is proof that the Temporal Bridge Theorem is invalid, and for reasons that have been endlessly discussed, all connections to the past were immediately suspended at that time. Until today.”
Lincoln paused again for emphasis. “After months of international debate, a consensus was reached. The message left at the Pomer site is too important to ignore. What you are going to witness today has never been attempted. We will jump back to the location and time designated in the message. We certainly know this is possible, as we have successfully transported fourteen drones back to various times and places. Those drones functioned correctly and sent invaluable data back for the nineteen minutes we were able to maintain the connection.
“What we do not know, however, is if we can jump back to the present. In fact, I’m pretty sure we can’t, so we understand this to be a one-way trip. Regardless, we have to do it. It would be against our nature to ignore the message.”
He stepped over to a white sphere three meters in diameter. “My team and I have been working around the clock for months to make this possible. I know many of you watching are hoping for a glimpse of the technology.” He waved his hand at the sphere. “Never before has this device been photographed or recorded, but because I probably won’t be returning, I figured what the hell.”
Several nervous chuckles came from his team.
“For all intents and purposes, this sphere and the machinery you see connected to it is a time machine. I, for one, despise that term and rarely use it, as it conjures oversimplified science fiction tropes. I prefer the term T3, which stands for Tantalizing Temporal Trickery.” He paused, but this time no one in the room chuckled. He shrugged it off.
Lincoln pointed to a hatch in the sphere, its circular door hanging open. “For each of the fourteen connections we’ve made in the past, we put two objects inside—a drone and a data relay device.” He stepped to a nearby table and put his hand on a basketball-sized sphere. “This is a data relay device, the DRD.” He waved to Maddy to step over to his side. “This is a drone. I believe many of you are familiar with this particular drone, as she has become somewhat of a celebrity lately. Maddy, say hello to the people.”
“Greetings, humans from Earth,” Maddy said.
Lincoln allowed himself a brief smile. “She’s a real comedian, this one.”
He paused again for effect. “The concept is simple. The time machine—the T3—can maintain the connection to the past for up to nineteen minutes. During those nineteen minutes, the drone collects as much data as it can, such as photos, readings of temperature, atmospheric composition, light levels, and even soil chemistry.” He put his hand back on the small sphere. “The drone sends data to the DRD, which then relays that data back here to us. That’s it. Nineteen minutes and it’s done. The drone and the DRD remain in the past, as there is no way to bring them back. We send the data to the research institution that financed that particular connection. Of course, that all ended seven months ago.”
Lincoln started walking across the spacious lab at a pace that would allow the camerawoman to keep up. “Once the world decided the Pomer site message required action, I decided it was my responsibility to jump back to the specific place and time 47,659 years ago. The idea is simple. My team and I must figure out why our civilization is at risk and take measures to prevent disaster.” He shrugged and shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine as to what that might require.” He glanced back at the large sphere. “Going back to that time and place isn’t a problem. We could just get inside the sphere as if we were drones.” He decided to allow himself one more smile, but it felt strained. “Due to the fact that I’m fond of being alive, as well as being fond of my team, we took on our most daunting technological challenge yet—to modify the T3 to give us some chance of jumping back to this present time or some other present time where we might continue to live out our lives.”
“And with that to look forward to,” said the broadcasting tech, with a suspiciously professional voice, “we will take a brief sponsor break.” The guy waved a finger at the camerawoman, who tapped a button then nodded appreciatively at Lincoln.
Lincoln glared at the tech. “You’re a damn reporter. I made it clear—”
“I’m not a reporter,” the guy said, raising both hands as if making peace. “Someone has to ease the transition to commercial breaks.”
“I’ve only been talking five minutes!”
The guy frowned at Lincoln. “Do you even watch television, Mr. Woodhouse? Five minutes of programming, then two minutes of ads. That’s been the standard for years.”
Lincoln blew air through his teeth. “It’s a wonder anyone watches.” He paced back and forth a few times while Jazzlyn, Virgil, and Derek stood patiently to one side. He stopped and addressed the broadcasting tech again. “You know, we’re actually jumping within an hour. You’re broadcasting a live event that could have global consequences. Not only that, four people and a celebrity drone are basically committing suicide.”
The tech shrugged. “I’d do things differently if I could, Mr. Woodhouse.”
Lincoln stopped pacing and took a few deep breaths. Soon the camerawoman counted down again, and the camera light came back on.
Lincoln gazed at the lens for three seconds then stepped over to an object that appeared to be a boulder the size of a large office desk. “Believe it or not, this is our new T3. It is disguised as a boulder to avoid attracting unwanted attention at the destination. Instead of staying behind, this T3 is capable of jumping to a time and place in the past along with my team. Because the T3 goes with us, we should be able to use it a second time—in theory, at least—after we arrive at our destination. If all goes well, we plan to use the device to jump back to the present.”
He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Unfortunately, I believe it will be impossible to jump back to this present. Some of you disagree with me on that, and I hope you are correct. If you are, then you should see us appear here again a few minutes after we jump.” He shot a glance at the broadcasting tech with a reporter’s voice. “That should give you just enough time to have a nice commercial break.”
Lincoln put his hand on the T3 boulder. “For those of you who are hoping for enough detail to build one of these devices yourself, I’m sorry to disappoint you. It’s too dangerous. I will remind you of the eleven poor souls who have lost their lives trying to replicate my devices without an adequate grasp of the science behind them.” He pointed at the camera. “Do not become a statistic.” It was a stupid thing to say, but he’d been told to say it.
“Here’s a simplified explanation,” he said. He motioned to Jazzlyn, Virgil, and Derek. They each picked up a brown bag large enough to hold a human body and stepped closer. “Each of these bags is the smaller equivalent of the much larger sphere in which we used to place th
e drone and DRD. My team and I fondly refer to these as body bags.” He grabbed the brown cord attached to one of the bags. “The body bags connect to the new T3 with this cord.” He inserted the free end of the cord into a barely noticeable receptacle near the base of the boulder. His staff members plugged in the other two, then they dragged four more over and plugged those in as well. The seven bags were now arranged on the floor around the boulder like spokes of a wheel.
Again, Lincoln grabbed one of the cords. “The T3 pumps two different, very specialized, types of charged heavy particles through the cord. I’m sorry, but I will not tell you what the particles are. I wouldn’t want you to become a statistic. The particles flow rapidly through microscopic tubules in the two-layer fabric of this bag. Particle A flows in one direction through a web of tubules in the outer layer. Particle B flows in the opposite direction through a matching web of tubules in the inner layer.
“Astoundingly, over a period of several seconds, that reverse particle flow causes anything inside the bag to become fluid. Not to be confused with liquid, I mean fluid within the context of space and time. As you probably know, space and time are inseparable. They are two aspects of the same construct. Once the bag’s contents become fluid, they can easily be shifted to another location and time.”
He dropped the cord and nodded toward the boulder. “Of course, the T3 does all the heavy lifting when it comes to placement calculations and generating particles A and B.”
Lincoln sensed that the broadcasting tech was about to speak up, so he quickly said, “We’re going to take a short break, and when we come back, we’ll go through the last-minute preparations for our jump. Then you will witness the first human time travel ever attempted. The entire process will happen uninterrupted by commercial breaks, because we do not want you to miss any of it!”
After a few seconds of silence, the broadcasting tech sighed loudly. He then removed a small earpiece and let it hang from his ear. “I hadn’t really planned on losing my job today, but considering the sacrifice you guys are making, I guess I won’t complain.”
Obsolete Theorem Page 4
