Project J

by Sean Brandywine

  The oldest man was heavy set, doubled chinned and a bulging waist that even the expensive black suit could not hide. On the pudgy fingers was a large gold ring bearing a dark red ruby and the chi-rho symbol on both sides. He sat in the chair behind the desk, filling it so much that it creaked every time he moved.

  The second man stood behind the fat one in an attitude of subservience. His clothing was also black. He was late thirties, slender of build and marked with a forlorn face and thinning hair.

  The third man was standing before the desk, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot and glancing at the window every few seconds as if worried that someone was watching. He seemed not to know what to do with his hands.

  “Please tell the... us what you told me before,” said the man behind the chair.

  The chair creaked as the fat man leaned forward, his dark eyes intent upon the nervous one.

  “I... Well, you see, I work at...”

  Once started, he blurted out the essential fact he had come to say, then spent the next few minutes trying to make these two believe him. When the questions began, it was the fat man who asked them, and who did not seem to believe the man’s story. Or did not want to believe it. But, try as he might, the fat man could not find fault with the story. At least this man was consistent with his facts. Which was not difficult, as he was telling the exact truth to begin with.

  “I think you can see why I came to you.”

  “You did the right thing, my child. I promise you, I will look into this.”

  The fat man rose with difficulty from the chair and offered his hand to the storyteller. He remained calm, and even smiled as if this man had told him something that pleased him. But as soon as the man left the room, his countenance turned dark and his voice took on a hard edge.

  “Have you checked out this man?” he snapped.

  “He seems to be who and what he claimed,” answered the other. “I will, of course, check further into his story.”

  “You must! If there is the slightest shred of truth in what he says, we must know!”

  “And act upon it,” added the slender man.

  “What?!” The fat man froze for long moments as that idea churned around in his mind. Then he slumped back into the chair. “You are right, of course. We have never faced a danger like this before. We may have to act, and swiftly!”

  Chapter 8: Confrontation

  Charges for computer time did not match the logs for Machine use.

  That might not sound like much – perhaps just a clerical error, but to a snoop like Tamara it was like waving a red flag in her face. Since the computer time usage was greater, that suggested the Machine’s use was not all being logged properly. Mistake? Probably not. Especially since it occurred on more than one occasion. So what was going on? She continued comparing the data. The largest of the discrepancies occurred just over a month prior, with smaller ones trickling down to the present, but the story it told her was that someone used the Machine and did not want others to know about it.

  After a break for lunch, she began charting the Machine use by project. An interesting pattern emerged; one that set her thinking. The power usage logs also corroborated that the Machine was being used for some unknown purpose. Again, small drains here and there, but one large one a month prior. All projects had an occasional discrepancy, but the biggest – again a month ago – was for that Project J.

  Tamara printed out some of the key data, and then got on the phone to Brian Stryker’s secretary, informing her that she wished to see the boss immediately. After the usual protests that he was a busy man and maybe she could make an appointment, the DOD auditor got tough.

  “Look, either I see him within an hour, or you won’t believe the report I’ll be submitting to my bosses in DOD.” The threat was delivered in her professional, calm tone, totally devoid of emotion – and carried all the more impact because of that. She was a pro at manipulating secretaries.

  Ten minutes later she was ushered into Dr. Stryker’s office. He was behind his desk, and did not rise politely as he should have when a lady entered the room. What was happening to common courtesies?

  “I’ve found some discrepancies in some of your records. The pattern demonstrates that someone, or ones, are using your time machine and not logging the proper entries.”

  She enjoyed the way his face turned pale. Now came the interesting part. She would watch his reactions carefully to judge whether he knew about this or not.

  “I... Perhaps it is just a clerical error,” he almost stammered, grasping for an explanation.

  “I think not. I have here some of the logs and related data. Would you like to go over them now?”

  She was surprised when he rose from the desk and, looking her straight in the eye, said, “Yes. Of course.” His firm reply told her that he was not aware of any chicanery and really wanted to see her data.

  “Perhaps we can find the problem,” he said, more in control now.

  She had seen this pattern before. Surprise, shock then wanting to dig into it. The classic pattern of a man not trying to hide something. As much as she enjoyed nailing someone’s hide to the wall, she was fair about it. It was her immediate reading that he had not been aware of these discrepancies.

  Coming around to her side of the desk, he took a seat on the sofa to one side and reached out his hand for the papers she held. Ten minutes later, the Chief Executive Officer was again turning pale.

  “My God! Someone has been falsifying the logs!” he said.

  “More than one person, I’d say,” she told him. “These smaller omissions are spread out across all projects. Could these be something done by the spooks who use your Machine?” she asked, referring to the secret use of the Machine by the CIA, NAS and perhaps some other super-secret agencies.

  “No. All usage of the Machine for those purposes is included under Project D. Besides, why would they try to hide usage? Everything they do is totally classified, but totally within their rights. None of my staff knows what they are doing. I don’t know what they’re using it for. So why try to hide it? But I do know that our government, of which you are a representative, threatened to take over the project totally if I didn’t allow them unrestricted and unmonitored use of the Machine. Think of the loss that would mean to academic research! Oh, how I long for the day when our work here can be made public and available to all researchers!”

  “So, if it’s not the spooks, then who? The biggest hidden use of the Machine was by Project J. Unless whoever is doing this is cleverer about hiding his tracks and just making it look like Project J. What is that project, Dr. Stryker?”

  “General research. Trying to make the Machine more efficient, improving the search capabilities and exploring new directions.” He paused to look out the window. “The biggest single effort has been to see if we can use the Machine to explore other worlds.”

  “Other worlds?”

  “Oh, yes. We can use the Machine to find and duplicate most anything on Earth. All the way back to prehistoric times. Why not use it to duplicate objects from another planet? Why send an expensive probe to Mars to pick up and return a sample when we could just recreate it in the chamber? It would not be a Martian rock but it would be identical in every respect.

  “And then there is the possibility of reaching out much farther than the planets in this solar system. How would you like to have a piece of rock from one of those planets they’ve found orbiting Alpha Centauri?”

  Tamara shook her head slowly. The idea was staggering.

  “Of course,” he continued, “there are many problems to overcome before this can be practical. New routines have to be written for Lightning. New hardware has to be developed. I believe the best Dr. Fielding has been able to do is copy a food packet from the International Space Station. A few attempts to retrieve a moon rock have failed. But we expect one day to do much more than explore the Earth’s past.”

  “That’s incredible. Could it be that this Dr. Fielding has a
ccomplished something along those lines but hidden it?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” Then he turned to her and smiled. “Why don’t we ask him?”

  Chapter 9: Confrontation II

  Dr. Conrad Fielding’s office was a mess. Papers and books and printouts were stacked everywhere, some atop filing cabinets reaching almost to the ceiling. Charts covered what little wall space was available, and a white board was covered with equations, erased and rewritten over and over. The desk was likewise covered with papers where there was room between two computer monitors and keyboards. The doctor himself was sort of a mess too. Late thirties or early forties, slender, with wispy blonde hair and a couple days’ growth of barely visible beard. His pale blue eyes looked out from behind glasses on a face that would not have been out of place on an accountant. Tamara expected to see a plastic pocket protector with an assortment of pens and pencils.

  His voice, however, was deep, not at all like his appearance.

  “Hello! I guess you’re that DOD auditor I’ve heard about,” he said by way of greeting.

  Tamara was introduced by Stryker, who then got right down to business. “What are you hiding?” he asked firmly.

  A pen almost fell from Fielding’s hand. “Hiding...?” he stammered, looking bewildered. Or maybe shocked.

  “Your project has been using the Machine and not logging it. What have you been doing? Some kind of secret research?”

  Fielding sat back down, looking as though he was going to be sick. “Research... You could say that,” he said weakly. Taking a deep breath, he seemed to regain his composure when he added, “I guess it had to come out eventually.”

  “What kind of research, Dr. Fielding?” Tamara prompted.

  “Let me get Juliette in here,” he said. “She’s been wanting to tell you from the start.” He looked to Stryker and frowned. “We didn’t think that we would get approval for it. So we sort of snuck it in.”

  “What in?” demanded Stryker.

  Fielding lifted one finger in the air, and then touched a button on the intercom. “Juliette, would you please come into my office.”

  Juliette O’Neill was the exact opposite of Fielding; a tall woman of solid build, late thirties, tanned, looking as though she just came in off the tennis courts, and with bright green eyes that went very well with her wavy red hair. A lot of Ireland was in her genes. She smiled a little uncertainly when she saw the Project Director and a stranger standing there, looking more than a little nervous.

  “What is it, Conrad?” she asked of her boss.

  “The excrement is about to hit the air circulation device,” he told her with a weak smile at the old slang term. “It’s time to tell them about our little secret.”

  “Oh, shit!” she said, looking much like a person who has just been told her whole career was about to be flushed down the toilet. Perhaps it was.

  “Let’s go to the conference room. We can talk better there,” Fielding suggested.

  The conference room also served as a storage area with more filing cabinets along one wall and two computer terminals sitting along another. At least there was a nice view out over the green mountains.

  “Okay, let’s have it,” Stryker said as he sat down next to Tamara. “What is it that I would not approve of?”

  Taking in a deep breath, Fielding began.

  “You are aware of the successes Brown has been having in fetching live animals, the dodo and Smilodon and such. Well, we, Dr. O’Neill and myself, got to thinking that, since the Machine works for animals, it might be possible to fetch a human.”

  There was a stunned silence in the room for several long seconds before Fielding went on, “A lot of reprogramming had to be done, and some other changes. A human is much more complex than any lower form of life, but the principles are the same.”

  “A human?” Stryker said with disbelief rapidly shading towards anger. “A human!”

  “We suspected that you would not approve,” O’Neill cut in. “But think of the possibilities! There is so much we have been learning about the past from artifacts. How much more could we learn from a real person that we could question!”

  “But you can’t just grab a person from the past...” Tamara began.

  “It’s not like we grabbed a person,” Fielding immediately said. “Any person we fetch would still be in the past. All we would get here is an exact replica.”

  “How close of an exact replica?” Stryker said slowly, emphasizing his words.

  “Well, the animals Brown got are... Well, truth is, it would be an exact replica. The person would be real and alive. Absolutely the same as the original.” He paused a moment before adding, “Even down to the thoughts and memories.”

  “Oh my God! You’re talking about creating a real person! You can’t just create life!” Stryker’s face was turning an unpleasant shade of red.

  “We didn’t create it; we only copied it,” Fielding protested.

  Stryker took in several deep breaths. Tamara was on the edge of her seat, staring in disbelief. The only ones who were not in shock were Fielding and O’Neill, but they were edging towards it.

  Before Fielding could go on, Stryker pointed a finger at him and asked, “You have actually done this, haven’t you? You’ve brought into our time a person from the past. Who... Who did you fetch?”

  “Well, we figured we might as well bring someone here who could answer historical questions. Someone of historical significance. For research, you understand.”

  “Who. Did. You. Fetch?” Stryker pounded his fist on the desk with the last word.

  “Ah... Jesus.”

  You could have heard a pin drop in the room.

  Chapter 10: Confession

  “Jesus! You mean Jesus Christ!”

  “Yes, that one.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “I told you he wouldn’t approve,” whispered Juliette to Fielding. It might have been meant as joke, but no one laughed.

  Stryker was shaking his head, and gasping, unable to speak.

  Tamara leaned forward. “Did the procedure work?”

  “Of course. Like I said, it was the same as we did with animals, only bigger. Took a lot of computer power, I can tell you. Lightning was running full speed for over three hours.”

  “And he was... is alive?”

  “Yes, of course.” At least Fielding had the decency to look sheepish.

  “Where is he?” Tamara continued.

  “I had a couple offices turned into an apartment of sorts, here in this building. He’s living there.”

  Even Tamara ran out of words at that point. This was just too big for their minds to accept.

  “I suppose you will want to meet him,” Fielding offered.

  “Jesus Christ...” muttered Stryker.

  It was Tamara who began to grasp the implications before Stryker. “Jesus was a first century Jew. Wouldn’t there be a tremendous cultural shock bringing him into our time?”

  “Of course,” Juliette answered. “That’s why we’ve isolated him and hidden the whole project from others in the company. To protect him. We wanted to be able to talk with him, ask questions, find out facts.” She leaned forward, her green eyes glowing. “Think of it! Here is the chance to learn so much about the most important point in history! And the most important man in history! Think about how much has been said and theorized about him and his time. How many different interpretations of his life and actions there are. How many unanswered questions. Ask a thousand people who, in all of history, they would like to talk to and most will say Jesus of Nazareth.” She was warming to her subject.

  “We kept him isolated from virtually all knowledge of our society and the world today. He does not know about TV, space travel, heart transplants, the world wars...”

  “Or about the church he started?” Tamara interrupted.

  “Most assuredly!” Juliette was emphatic. “Of course, he didn’t really start the church. Others after him did. But it would be a shock f
or him to know just how much his teachings have affected the world.”

  “Then what does he know?”

  “He knows that he has been brought forward to a different time and place from the world he knew. It took a lot to convince him that we have the science to do that. He still calls us ‘magicians’. That’s the only way he could understand what happened to him. At first, he thought... Well, it’s complicated. Once we healed him...”

  “Wait a minute!” Tamara jumped in. “Just exactly when in his life did you ‘fetch’ him?”