All the Colors of Time

by Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff

  “First, I’ll tell you what he told me. Then I’ll tell you what I told him. He gave me a target time and location. New York City, 1992, April 21, World Conference Center.”

  “Oh! First World Congress,” said Shiro. Everyone else nodded.

  “Correct. The General informed me that a . . . snafu—a major mistake—had occurred at this time and location. One the Joint Chiefs wanted to rectify.” She engaged the computer. “Library. Display headlines pertinent to the incident on the first day of World Congress.”

  The computer produced the front page of a New York newspaper with a banner headline: ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT AT WORLD CONGRESS—GORBACHEV UNHARMED.

  “The assassin was shot and killed,” said Oslovski. “His body was destroyed by a suspected arson fire while in the keeping of a Naval hospital and under a U.S. military guard.”

  “Was that the mistake?” asked George. “The assassin’s death and the destruction of his body?”

  Oslovski shook her head. “I don’t know. Let’s see what you think.” She filled in the details then—slowly, carefully, using the computer as part of her presentation. When she was finished, there was a heavy, disbelieving silence.

  Trevor Haley broke it. “Do you think they intend to make sure the assassination attempt is successful?”

  Oslovski shrugged and spread her hands. “I hate to think it, but it looks that way to me. The other possibility doesn’t make sense. Frankly, it sounds as if the assassin surviving his capture would really throw a spanner in the military machine.”

  “What did you tell Caldwell?” asked Shiro.

  “I told him we’d successfully completed Phase Three.”

  Khadivian and Walsh both blanched.

  “Phase Three?” repeated Vahid. “But that’s not true. We’ve completed Phase Four.”

  Oslovski shook her head. “I did not lie to the man, Vahid. I merely under-exaggerated. We have completed Phase Three.”

  “But when they check our reports—” said Walsh.

  Oslovski held up both hands. “Forgive me, Judy, Vahid, but that is simply not important right now. We have a major moral dilemma on our hands. I trust I’m not the only one who feels that way.”

  A chorus of negatives indicated she was not. “I know I read some of you the party line yesterday—all that about the neutrality of science. Well, folks, science may be neutral, but scientists can’t afford to be. Mankind can’t afford for us to be.” She stood up and put both hands flat on the table. “All right, situation is this: I suspect that the Joint Chiefs intend to use our technology to go back to the First World Congress and attempt to create a situation that will also make it the last World Congress. Does anyone else share that suspicion?” She raised her left hand.

  Haley, Tsubaki and Manyfeather followed suit immediately—George Wu with reluctance. Vahid kept both hands in his lap and looked miserable. Judy Walsh just stared at the table top, a fierce scowl on her face.

  “Do you two disagree?” asked Trevor. “Do you think we’re being paranoid? It seems to me we at least have reason to tread cautiously here.”

  Vahid shook his head. “I don’t know what to think. They . . . they’ve paid so much for this research. Without them, we wouldn’t even have gotten to this stage.”

  “We’ll all be paying for this research with our lives if they use it the way it looks like they mean to.”

  Vahid just shook his head again.

  Judy said, “I just can’t believe it. My father’s an Air Force noncom. I can’t believe they’d—”

  “We’re not talking about the whole military here, Judy,” said Oslovski. “Just a group of very powerful men who . . . who may be having difficulty facing reality. Unfortunately, this group is at the top of the chain of command. I can arrange for a transfer,” she added gently. “If you want to opt out now, you can.”

  Judy took a deep breath. “No. No, this project has been my life for four years. I can’t just get up and leave. And I don’t want to see it used to kill. Besides, my father would be ashamed of me if I ran out in the middle of it all.”

  Oslovski nodded. “Vahid?”

  “I’m scared,” he said.

  “We’re all scared,” said Oslovski. “The question is, do we stand around and shake and shiver, or do we do something about it?”

  “I’d like to do something,” admitted Vahid.

  “Right.” Oslovski let out a pent up breath. “Now, given the situation, what do we do?” She looked at the group around the table.

  “We could send the General and his people back to the Cretaceous and leave them there,” suggested Trevor.

  “Be real,” said Shiro. “We don’t even know if we can penetrate the Cretaceous.”

  “Seriously. Can’t we strand them someplace—I mean, some time?”

  Shiro shook her head. “That would be as immoral in its own way as what they might be planning. Besides, they might manage to change the course of evolution or something.”

  Louis Manyfeather sat forward in his seat. “What if we go back in time and make sure the assassin is captured?”

  Oslovski grimaced. “Tempting, but none of us is exactly James Bond. Besides, that might change history just as effectively as a successful assassination. We need to make as little impact as possible on what’s already happened. We need to—to change the present to protect the past. Keep them from going back at all, if possible.”

  “We could lock up our data,” suggested George. “Tell them what they’re asking is impossible.”

  Oslovski nodded. “I thought of that. But remember, we’ve already shifted back past their target. The computers know that. I know you’re a talented programmer, George, but you’d have to be the king of hackers to destroy all that data without leaving a trail. Every activity log on every piece of equipment in the O.R. will call us liars if anyone develops a sense of curiosity. Besides that, who’s to say they won’t just go elsewhere for the expertise?”

  “But that would take years,” said Louis.

  “The net result would be the same, don’t you see?” asked Oslovski. “Time is no object. No matter how long they wait, if they achieve their goal . . .”

  He saw, and nodded glumly.

  “If we can’t get rid of them and we can’t fool them,” said Trevor, “then what can we do? Hypnotize them so they give up and go away? They’re not going to change their minds just because we think they need an attitude adjustment.”

  Oslovski stared at him. “An attitude adjustment,” she murmured.

  “What?”

  “Something Vance said last night about human nature. That presented with an unchangeable circumstance, the human mind adjusts its attitude to accept it . . . or goes mad, I suppose.”

  Shiro nodded. “In other words, it grows the serenity necessary to accept the inevitable. But how can we make the irresistible force believe that is has met an immovable object?”

  Oslovski raised her eyebrows. “Maybe Trev has something there—hypnotism.”

  Trevor snorted. “I was being facetious, Magda. There’s no way we can hypnotize the entire Defense Department.”

  “We wouldn’t have to. The entire Defense Department isn’t going to be time traveling. They’ll send one or two men back—hell, we can control that much. We’ll tell them the field won’t allow more than that.” She started pacing, thinking. “I want to change the script for the next Phase Five experiment. We’re going to send Toto downstairs.”

  oOo

  While the others ate lunch, Magda Oslovski went up to her husband’s second floor office. He was munching on a tuna sandwich when she came in clutching her coffee cup in both hands.

  “Hi,” he said. “Have you had lunch?”

  She shook her head and he handed her half of his sandwich. “You have ‘that look.’”

  “That ‘lean and hungry look’?” she asked around a bite of tuna.

  “No. The patented Magda Oslovski ‘I’ve come to a definite decision and God help you if you try to cha
nge my mind’ look. So, what’s it going to be, Saint Mag of QuestLabs: Courage or Serenity?”

  “Our courage, their serenity. Before I tell you what that means, answer a question: Can you hypnotize someone to make them think they’ve done something they haven’t done?”

  “Can I, personally?”

  She nodded.

  “Ye-es,” he said slowly. “Given the right environment. It depends a lot on the magnitude of the suggestion and the natural resistance of the subject. Some individuals require a little help—sodium pentothal or Ephkal-A.”

  “Ephkal-A—that was developed here, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve worked with it, then.”

  “Yes, I have. It’s been very helpful in handling the endorphin imbalances that contribute to nasty conditions like schizophrenia.”

  “In other words, it helps you adjust someone’s attitude.”

  Vance shook his head. “Not quite. It helps the body adjust its own attitude. There’s a difference.”

  “Okay, distinction noted. But it makes this hypnosis thing doable?”

  “Oh, it’s doable. But it’s also undoable. The effects have been known to fade.”

  “Fade? Over how long a period?”

  “Years, months. But real memories tend to do the same thing. Even things I did—oh, last night, say—tend to take on an aura of . . . fantasy.” He gave her a provocative look.

  “I love you, too,” she said. “But couldn’t this fading be counteracted with a regular regimen of Ephkal-A?”

  He sighed. “We put schizophrenics on Ephkal-A boosters. It keeps their moods balanced and helps them to retain positive memory associations. It can be taken orally. Where’s all this leading, Mags?”

  “I’ll tell you. But I want you to be quiet until I’ve finished. Take notes if you have to. Then I want to hear what you think. Then I want to know if you’ll help.”

  oOo

  She was back in O.R. an hour and a half later, her face flushed and a mad gleam in her dark eyes. She called her Team away from their calibration routines into a pow-wow.

  “Okay, here’s the new Phase Five game plan. The object of the experiment is to send Toto back one day to another location here in the Emerald City. Specifically . . .” She tapped out something on her handcomp and handed the unit to Shiro. “These coordinates.”

  The younger woman glanced at them, then looked up puzzled. “These are right downstairs, aren’t they?”

  Oslovski nodded. “They are indeed. Directly below us, as a matter of fact.”

  “That facility is identical to this one, isn’t it?”

  “Right again. I just notified Admin that we’re going to be making use of it for some very delicate and oh-so-top-secret work. Peter was ecstatic. It’s one more thing he can add to the DOD tab. Phase Five now goes something like this. We send Toto down and back to ascertain we can hit the precise coordinates. Then, we’re going to incorporate a little bit of Phase Six into the plan: We’re going to bring in our animal friends. First, the mice, then, if they survive, we’ll send Q-Bert with a full medical array. And if he makes it through all right, it’s onward and upward.”

  “You mean we’re going to go to a human subject?” asked Trevor.

  She nodded. “Except that for the first-round human Shift, we’ll just send someone downstairs in the same temporal range, just to make sure they’re okay.”

  “Teleportation?” George looked both eager and concerned.

  “What about Temporal Spectrum Shift? We’ve never tried moving an object along the same wave band. Theoretically, I’m not sure it would work. We can’t put someone through solid walls.”

  “But we can use the Temporal Spectrum to move them from one place to another,” said Shiro. “We can shift back, change the location on the Spectrum, then shift forward again.”

  “Ah!” George nodded. “Ah, yes! Sort of like a knight in chess.”

  Shiro looked doubtful. “I guess so.”

  “To what purpose to we do this?” asked Trevor.

  The devil was back in Oslovski’s eyes. “To the purpose of making the irresistible force think it’s met an immovable object. Think, Trev. What might make our clients adjust their attitude?”

  “Is this a quiz?”

  “Think.”

  “Okay. Well, you said it. An immovable object.”

  “Yes!” Shiro nodded eagerly. “I see. Something they can’t change. A—a future they can’t change, perhaps.”

  “That’s what I hope to show them, people,” said Oslovski. “A future that their monkeying around didn’t change to their liking.”

  “What about the other thing?” asked Trevor. “What are we going to do about that?”

  “We’re going to stop them. Stations, people. Let’s complete our calibrations.”

  oOo

  Q-Bert weathered his flight with all the aplomb of a veteran time traveler. He complained only when his sensors were attached via a small cap that fitted tightly over his head and fastened under his jaw. Louis had added insult to injury by laughing at him, something the genteel terrier couldn’t abide.

  “You’re the first person he’s bitten since he was a puppy,” said Trevor, as they reviewed Q-Bert’s data.

  Louis stared glumly at the bandage on his finger. “Should I take that as a compliment?”

  “I think you should take it as a warning not to laugh at QBert. He’s a scientist, after all, just like the rest of us. Except, of course, that he has a wet nose.”

  “Yeah, and sharp teeth.” Louis shook his finger. “How did he do?”

  “Just great. Respiration fine. Brain activity, relaxed—except when he bit you. Heart rate, normal. Blood panels look good. He’s a healthy, happy canine.”

  Louis bit his lip and tried not to look desperately excited. “That means the next step is sending one of us.”

  Trevor nodded. “Once Magda’s seen this data, I think she’ll agree to that.” He gave Louis a sideways look. “Are you volunteering?”

  “You bet, Kimosabe. Wild horses couldn’t stop me. I can just see the headlines: Descendant of Sitting Bull First Man to Time Travel.” He grinned. “My folks will be so proud.”

  Trevor looked skeptical. “Are you really a descendant of Chief Sitting Bull?”

  “Bona fide, guaranteed.” He twiddled the eagle feather that hung, solitary, from the braid at the back of his head.

  “That’s ironic.”

  Louis raised his eyebrows.

  “Little Big Horn,” said Trevor. “The Sequel.”

  oOo

  Operation Little Big Horn proceeded the next morning with a careful, full-staff study of Q-Bert’s data. Q-Bert himself was subjected to a thorough examination by Drs. Trevor Haley and Judy Walsh. When that was over, Magda Oslovski okayed the next phase.

  Louis took Q-Bert’s place on the Spectral Grid, watching nervously as Trevor set up his sensors for the trip. Downstairs in the other O.R., Vahid Khadivian waited for the materialization.

  Psychologically, Louis didn’t take the Shift as well as QBert had. His heart raced as the Field was activated and he was unable to slow it down. The Field danced like a swirling pattern of stars before his eyes. A tingling sensation cascaded down his back, then spiraled upward again to spin crazily, but not unpleasantly, in his head. He blinked rapidly several times—saw colors flash vividly.

  My God, he thought, it really is a spectrum.

  Then the trembling stars returned and melted and he was watching Vahid Khadivian blink back at him. They stared at each other for a moment, then Vahid grinned and said, “Welcome to the Underworld, my son.”

  Louis let out a whoop.

  oOo

  “Your heart rate got a little crazy there, Louis,” said Oslovski. “All through the Shift.”

  “I just got a little excited, that’s all. Really.” He shrugged. “Adrenalin is a powerful drug, doctor.”

  “No discomfort?”

  “No. No, it was . . . tin
gly. Exhilarating. There really are visible color bands. I saw them flashing when the Field effect faded.”

  “Mmm.” Oslovski looked at the computer display again. “Most important of all, you made it. You ended up right where you were supposed to.” She gazed off into space for a moment. “Okay. All right. Next phase.”

  oOo

  In the week that followed, they sent Toto back to the target date. He recorded the entire assassination attempt, tucked neatly away behind a pillar on the upper deck of the Conference Center. Oslovski’s Team reviewed the footage painstakingly.

  They studied official accounts. They met far into the night, discussing, consulting, arguing, mentally rehearsing routines for Phase One of Operation Little Big Horn; running over a long list of what-ifs. They also started laying the groundwork for Phase Two.

  When the big Monday arrived, the Chiefs appeared in full military regalia. With them were two “special operatives”—Ferris and Hilyard by name. Oslovski adopted the immediate suspicion that these were the would-be assassins. They contributed nothing to the briefing, but merely sat in silence, watching and listening.

  Magda Oslovski conducted the briefing flanked by Vance Keller and Trevor Haley. The other members of the LBH conspiracy were busily readying themselves for the inevitable demonstration.

  “Since I talked to you last, General Caldwell,” said Oslovski, “we’ve had several important breakthroughs. But rather than tell you, we’ll show you. Dr. Haley, the video please.”

  Around the oval table, video displays showed footage taken by Toto during his sortie in New York. The aborted assassination played out, followed by mass confusion, an explosion of golden motes and a sudden shift to aqua. The screens went black.

  Oslovski’s eyes were still on Caldwell as he turned to stare at her.

  “That . . . that was the assassination attempt on—”

  “Yes. The date you gave me was the opening day of the First World Congress. But, of course, you knew that. We just happened to get this rather spectacular footage of the attempt on President Gorbachev’s life. That was the event you were targeting, was it not?”

  Caldwell glanced at his clam-faced peers and nodded once. The corner of his mouth twitched.