by Bruce Buff
At the ten-second mark, as programmed, the plasma compression decreased, and the feelings vanished.
Welch yelled out to everyone, “Do whatever you can to stop this. Don’t worry about anything else. Just do it now!”
People immediately tried different computer commands, searched for the right wires to pull, or switches to trigger, all to no avail.
Nicco cried out, “I’ll try and reach the main power supply.” It was a floor below, just outside the reactor room. He’d have to race down a short hall, down a flight of stairs, and then down another short hall. Then he’d have to unlock the power closet and trip the large switch—no easy task. All in as little as ten seconds, certainly no more than twenty-five. In desperation, he ran out of the room, his feet sliding on the polished stone floor.
Sousan ran out after him, but then headed the opposite way. Viktor was surprised by her reaction. She was heading for the door. He had thought she was stronger than that. But then, you really never know about people until they are tested.
At the fifteen-second mark, the plasma contracted again, further this time. The greater intensity caused stronger feelings of pulling him toward something that he began to fear greatly. Some of the people in the room doubled over from what he now knew were similar effects. Having already withstood extraordinary terror in the camps, he stoically accepted whatever was coming.
After five more seconds the plasma expanded and the sensations dissipated. In the background, he heard the stairway door swing shut. Nicco was down the stairs. There was a chance he could cut the power before the last plasma compression.
Otherwise, in five to ten seconds, the experiment would likely yield the largest man-made fusion reaction ever outside of an atomic bomb—one neither the reactor nor they would survive. With a detached sense of irony, he thought that perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to fool around with the fundamental forces of nature.
In what he knew were his last moments, Viktor understood that someone had sabotaged the experiment, loaded the wrong fuel, disabled the abort button, and cut off every other means to stop it. Deep down, he knew it had been Sousan. There was nothing that could be done. Grim, he realized that their work would not, by itself, help lead to a peaceful world free of strife and suffering. Technology was not the problem, nor the answer. A little thing like human nature stood in the way, and that couldn’t be reengineered.
Twenty-three seconds. Two more until the last plasma pulse would begin.
With the little time left, he felt a desire that was as powerful as the strongest prayer. He liked the idea that it was the power of the sun, and not the slow decomposition of organic matter, that would claim his body. He thought of his family and wanted them to remember him well, not be distraught at how he’d died.
Twenty-five seconds. He put his arm around Welch’s shoulders and looked at the monitor in time to see the last plasma compression vanish into a blinding flash. As the containment vessel failed, a beam of electrons broke free from the reactor’s magnetic field and cut through the magnets and the roof of building, headed skyward. Argon gas was released in the reactor room and turned the electrons into the brightest beam of light ever seen on Earth. In his last instant, Viktor was aware of a powerful rumble and intense sound. Before the furious forces reached his body, he imagined that he felt his soul release, and then the shock of complete serenity.
Lives were extinguished as the building was engulfed in a violent explosion of heat and flames. Fire leapt hundreds of feet upward until settling into a seething cauldron several stories high.
Chapter 30
Stephen gazed out from his office, across the river, toward the fusion center. Of course, with all the other buildings in the way, he could not see it. Still, he believed he could feel its presence. As much as he wanted to be with Viktor tonight, they both had thought it best that Stephen stay away, not do anything that might attract additional attention. There would be plenty of time later for his participation.
Right now, Viktor was in the midst of the experiments that would prove the validity and value of Stephen’s discoveries. This one was just one of many revelations to come. It happened to be easier to test and had more practical, immediate value than the others. Along with the imaging technology they were developing, the results of these experiments could change the direction of the world and prevent precipitous conflicts—so long as the same tools didn’t ignite disastrous conflicts before then.
It was more power than one person should possess, and there was a lot more to come. But at least he would use it for benevolent purposes and try to thwart people from ever using it against others.
Then he would be onto the more challenging technology. Complex biological systems, even when you knew how they were supposed to work, were difficult to understand and modify at anything above the level of individual molecular reactions or simple gene substitution. Still, in time, he and his team would figure it all out.
Once the experiments were completed, he would receive a message telling him what he needed to know. Until then, there was nothing for him to do but wait patiently.
Standing at the window, he had thought himself relaxed. His aching hands told him otherwise. He unclasped them from a rigid grip and was surprised to see how sweaty they were.
He turned from the window to get a napkin from his desk and was startled by what felt like a pat on his back. It was just like a gesture Viktor would occasionally make.
Stephen jumped and turned around in time to see an enormously bright ray of light flash skyward and then vanish. It was followed by something far more ominous. The succeeding explosion illuminated the surrounding area before settling into steady, unearthly flames. An instant later he heard a deathly rumble.
He needed no explanation. Despite the assurances he had received that nothing of this nature could happen, it had.
Air was sucked out of his lungs, as if from an enormous shock wave, and he fell to his knees. He gasped for breath. The air seemed impossibly hot, even though its temperature had not actually changed, and the windows were intact.
A voice in his head cried out What have I done? First Alex, now this. Why did others have to pay the price for his hubris and ambition?
Trying to get to his feet, he struggled to grasp the window ledge with his sweaty hands. They slipped repeatedly until he was finally able to stand on wobbly legs.
He looked out the window to face what he had helped wrought. He could see that the blast had thrown the city into turmoil. Cars were stopped everywhere he looked. The sinister glow of the orange and crimson flames reflected off the low cloud cover, casting an eerie glow on the entire city.
He wondered if this foreshadowed that what he had sought to prevent would nonetheless be unleashed.
Though he knew nothing could be done, he had to get over to what remained of the fusion laboratory. He changed into a pair of running sneakers that he kept in his office, picked up the cell phone Dan had given him, and rushed out of the building.
Chapter 31
Sousan was almost a block away from the center, running as fast as she could, when the blast knocked her to the ground. It was accompanied by an intense wave of heat that burned the exposed parts of her neck and arms. The back of her lab coat caught fire, and she rolled to put it out. Her hair was a singed tangle. Small bits of debris rained down, pelting her body.
Stunned more by the deaths of her coworkers than by her injuries, she crawled a few yards until she was able to stand. The palms of her hands stung from the exposed, raw skin that remained after the surface had been scraped off along the pavement when she fell.
She felt shattered in body and spirit as she stumbled away from what had been her place of work, her real home, for the last sixteen years.
Although she had always known there would be a debt to pay for her parents’ being allowed to immigrate to America, she had thought she would only be called on to pass alo
ng information that could do no real harm. Even then, if Viktor had properly respected her, she wouldn’t have said anything. That was what she had told herself when asked to sabotage the experiments.
But this—this chaos she’d barely escaped, which had killed her coworkers—this wasn’t part of the plan. No one could have known this would happen. It wasn’t her fault.
She knew she would be called on to answer difficult questions if she was seen, so she walked hurriedly along the sides of the buildings, trying to slip away unnoticed. With the building destroyed, there was nothing to place her at the site unless she was spotted now. She would stay out of the range of security cameras and hide her face.
Dozens of people were charging past her toward the remains of the building, their attention focused on the blaze. She was practically invisible in the shadows. The sirens of approaching rescue vehicles blared. The reflections of the flames performed an evil dance on the windows of the buildings around her.
She turned to look at the building one last time and stared at the raging inferno. The little that was left burned violently, the blaze forming cathedrals of destruction whose spires rose and fell. Thick, black smoke emanated from the fire and strangled the night sky. The flames crackled like whips striking flesh. Wretched smells filled the air, carried by an unnatural breeze.
It all felt like hell.
As her senses regained their awareness, her injuries began to scream. But she couldn’t seek treatment from any conventional medical facility. That would require explanations she couldn’t give. She’d have to obtain treatment elsewhere.
There was only one thing to do. Get far, far away. Find a safe haven.
Now with the streets filling up with every imaginable official vehicle, and authorities guiding people away from the site, she disappeared into the crowd.
Chapter 32
Stephen half walked, half jogged, onto the Western Avenue Bridge toward the fusion center. His legs felt like they were trying to churn uphill through waist-deep snow.
His right foot caught on a patch of crumbled pavement and he stumbled forward. Tripping, he started to fall, and then awkwardly regained his balance. The sharp movement launched the cell phone Dan had given him out of his shirt pocket and across the sidewalk into the street. He scrambled along the ground, searching for it, and found it on the grate of a storm drain, tilted on edge, nearly through the metal slot. Carefully retrieving it, he put it in his pants pocket.
Looking ahead, he could see that the blaze had spread. A bright orange-crimson glow spread out like the top slice of a sphere, like an aberrant sunset portending a dreadful night.
Even though it was late in the evening, and traffic hadn’t been too heavy, activities were at a near standstill. Police were directing traffic—mostly stopping it—so that rescue vehicles could get to the scene. Drivers on the bridge, with nothing to do but wait, got out of their cars and looked toward the conflagration, clogging the pedestrian path.
As Stephen resumed his trek, easing through gaps between people, sidestepping past those blocking his path, he heard car radios tuned to news stations stating that the explosion and fire were being treated as a potential terrorist attack. Speculation ran rampant. To the best of the announcers’ knowledge, it seemed unlikely that the fusion center, given its unclassified, basic research function, would have been the target of any interests that had the capability to cause an incident like this. Yet there was nothing in the lab that apparently could have caused the blast, either. There was some talk that perhaps the Novartis Institute for Biological Research, across the street, was the actual target, and that the perpetrators had hit the wrong building. Meanwhile, comprehensive emergency security measures were kicking in citywide, and everything was being affected.
Stephen steadily made his way through all this across the last mile to what was left of the fusion center. Along the way, he tried to spot security cameras and stay out of their field of vision.
Thoughts jumbled in his head. Foremost was grief over the undoubted loss of his friend and his associates. What could have happened?
He would see what he could, then he would head to his MIT office and figure out what to do next.
Finally across the bridge, he tried to make his way down Massachusetts Avenue, but the police had cordoned that off. They were walking around with bullhorns telling the gathering crowds to go to their homes and clear the area.
Seeking a better view, Stephen climbed onto a base of a light pole and looked down the street. All he could see were fire and police vehicles and the reflections of the flames that bounced off the exteriors of the buildings.
He had to find a way to get closer. It had been only twenty minutes since the blast, and there were not yet enough police around to control and handle everything. Stephen took off in a moderate jog down side streets until he found a passageway between two buildings that was unguarded. He traversed its short length and stepped out into the middle of the scene.
To his right, the ring of police was keeping the crowds at bay. In front of him, firemen were consumed with attacking the fire. With responders still arriving, no one was paying attention to a lone person standing with his back against the wall of an unaffected building.
The heat was too intense for him to stand there long. The acrid air burned his nostrils and throat. The blast had set everything within a row of buildings on fire. The fusion center itself was flattened, and nothing recognizable remained. There was just a hole where it used to be and flames that looked like they sprang from a sulfurous pit.
What looked like more than a hundred firefighters bravely fought to keep the flames on the lab side of the street from jumping to the other, but the heat kept pushing them back. More vehicles arrived, and helicopters began dropping fire-extinguishing chemicals from above.
Through all of this, Stephen kept staring, focusing on what to do while fighting off sorrow and guilt.
More police arrived, accompanied by even more serious-looking personnel wearing jackets that said Homeland Security and FBI. One or two glanced his way.
It was time to go.
He started to head back out the way he had slipped in, but now the outer edge of that path was secured by police. Stephen came up with the best ruse he could. He walked up to one officer and said that he was an off-duty early responder and had been sent back out by the commander to get into proper equipment to assist with the rest of the operation.
The policeman just nodded, and Stephen walked out, slipping between all the people, as he started to make his way across campus to his MIT office. He was careful to avoid security cameras, hoping none would get a clear shot of his face.
With a heavy heart and burdened mind, he knew it was time to ditch his plan. He had to come up with one capable of dealing with what he now faced.
For that, he definitely needed Dan’s help.
Chapter 33
For the last three days, Dan had been engrossed in researching evolution, biology, and genetics. It wasn’t something a novice could master, but he thought that he could learn enough to judge the plausibility of Stephen’s claims.
The good thing was that his studies were occupying his mind, drawing him further out of himself. He was able to enjoy the possibilities the study provided. He was more energized and far less melancholy. He was even having fun once in a while.
The Cape trip had been especially fun. He thought back to the morning after Liam’s, when he’d had the best breakfast he’d had in a long time. It was just the four of them—Dan, Stephen, Nancy, and Ava. Trish had left the night before. Nancy had prepared corn beef hash, breakfast sausages, and eggs over easy.
Stephen had loaded him up with a bunch of books—Francis Collins’s Language of God, Stephen Barr’s Modern Physics and Ancient Faith, Stephen Meyer’s Signature in the Cell, Ken Miller’s Darwin’s God, Wesley Smith’s The War on Humans—all attempts to reconcile science, faith, and h
umanity. Now he was so absorbed with what he was reading that he was only faintly aware of the distant sirens.
Eventually, the sound grew so loud that he was unable to ignore the sirens shrieking down Storrow Drive. Turning away from his computer screen, he wondered what could be going on. He didn’t have to speculate long. He left his secluded alcove and entered his darkened bedroom, where he was confronted by reflections of light from a ghastly fire, bouncing off his walls. Rushing to the window, he immediately saw the smoke and flames across the river. They were originating from somewhere on the western side of the MIT campus. The light radiated off the clouds and the river, creating a confluence of chaotic images.
He turned the TV to a news station and cranked the volume way up, then went to his computer to open the local Boston news website. Both the television and internet had disturbing images of a block of buildings fully engulfed in a raging fire. The early reports stated that an explosion of surprising force at MIT’s Plasma Science and Fusion Center had unleashed an intense fire that quickly spread. There were also unconfirmed reports that the explosion had been preceded by a narrow beam of light that had pierced the night sky. A leak from an unnamed government official claimed that traces of a radioactive substance, tritium, had been detected, and the area was cordoned off. While the cause was unknown, terrorism was a distinct possibility, and the city was being locked down until more was known about the incident.
Dan recalled Stephen’s relationship with Viktor Weisman, director of the fusion center. It had caught his attention when he noticed that the source of some of the files being moved onto his secure computer environment emanated from the very location that had just been leveled. Suspicious, he had penetrated the lab’s computer network and made copies of all of the original, unencrypted files. He didn’t intend to make the same mistake that he had made with Stephen—allowing him to copy files onto his computer environment without his being able to view them.
