Where . . . wa? It's black, all black; like a heavy blanket. The silence is deafening, as though my ears are filled with clay. So silent. I must be awake and yet . . . ! It's so dark. I blink; I can't see an edge or hint of a glow. I hold my hand before my face and strain to see the edge of my fingers, but I see nothing. I bring my hands to my face . . . agh!. . still nothing, I feel nothing not even my hand against my hand. Martin flailed in the darkness scrambling for purchase. I don’t even sense the motion of my hands. Panic fills his mind. He breathlessly gasps to scream but nothing comes out. I am not; I am, yet I am not . . . in my body. Where am I? I am without support or grip. I have no sense of falling but . . . what is going on?
My pains are gone, no aching in my knees, nor soreness in my back. No pendulum of my gut nor sense of up or down or even that of floating. I'm dead? He stops flailing hoping to gain reference; there is none. No smell, or touch, no sight or sound . . . but wait? Wait? There is a sound, not my heart beat; more like a rushing in my ears. It sounds like voices, many voices. I can't quite make . . . are they crying? Is it children crying? I can't . . .
“Trask! Wake up buddy. Nappy time is over. Vinny, don't screw with that stuff, man. Just complete the Shut-down Check List; procedures, procedures. We don't want to loose our lab rat. It wouldn't look good on your resume.”
“What's to shut down? It shut itself down. Hell, it didn't even get off the pad. Ned, he don't look so good. Look at him sweat.”
“Vinny, just go through the damn check list. I'll take care of Trask.” Ned turned up the lights on the cage, and shielded his eyes against the glass for a better look. “Man he does look a little peaked around the gills. Maybe he had second thoughts; got scared. Look at his hair? I don't remember that.”
“White roots; he dyes his hair.” Vinny did an oily face plant on the glass, trying for a better look. “He don't look so good. Is he unconscious or just sleeping?”
“His vital signs say he is awake, but I don't know.” Ned tapped the monitor is if it were a stuck gas gauge. “I'll get him out of the cage.”
“Ned, what about them?” Vinny bobbed his eyes toward the observation deck.
“Oh yeah.” Ned keyed his mike. “Sorry gentlemen. Show's over. We had some kind of a software glitch. Data transfer didn't initiate. So we got nuthin'. I'll put a test report on-line, if you want to see the details. I'll email a reschedule.”
A voice crackled back over the PA system. “I wish I could fall asleep that quick. What, it took him all of ten seconds? He's-he’s okay; isn't he?”
“Yeah, I think he's fine. I don't think we lost him.” Ned looked back at the motionless body in the urchined 'bunny suit', slumped in the cage. Test sensor leads extended from a dozen points on his head and suit.
“What's going on?” The project manager stepped up behind Ned.
“What do you mean, Harold? We're still trying to poke a hole in the fabric of time and distance.”
“You know what I mean. You were supposed to tell me when you were going to test.”
“Harold. See those guys up there. They all got the message. I didn't know I was supposed to do a roll call.”
“I specifically . . . crap. Look, I need to be here when we try squirting someone through cyberspace. I'm the guy who’s supposed to be in-the-know.”
“I'm not going there, Harold. Hey look, I'm sorry you didn't get the message, but you might want to check your email, because I sent it out yesterday.”
“What's he doing, sleeping?” Harold squinted through the glass, avoiding Vinny's grease spot.
“I don't know, but it looks like I'm going to have to climb in there for a closer look. His vitals are too good for a corpse.”
“That's not funny, Ned. Vinny, get Grant down here. Mr. Martin T. looks a little flaky. We'd better not take any chances.” Harold leaned in for a closer look. “By the way, what did happen, Ned? Some kind of system failure?”
“Yup. Something didn't go quite right. The standing wave only got to about 80% when the 'INITIATE SEQUENCE' light flashed at the same time the 'ABORT' lit up. There was no ramp, the bias register never cycled, or anything. Nothing happened that I'm aware of. We didn't get byte one off of him.”
Damn straight on that, Ned. I went to nowhere and I don't ever want to go there again. I guess it's time to open my eyes. Martin never knew what surprises awaited. One of these days I'm going to wake up and find everyone with a single eye in the middle of their forehead. But I guess I'm still Martin Trask, and that's a plus.
Ned opened the cage door and was about to step in, when Martin opened his eyes. “Trask! You're back. Hope you enjoyed the trip. Sorry for the inconvenience; but it was a bust. We'll reschedule. The debriefing may not even happen. We didn't get to square one. You okay, buddy?”
Boy, you guys really don't have a clue. That's just as well . . . for me. “Yes. I’m just peachy, Ned. A little sticky, but otherwise I’m okay.”
“Look at the bright side. You'll get to charge the shop for eight hours, even though you only put in four and a half.”
Martin shifted stiffly and began his unplugging sequence.
“What's up?” Dr. Grant pulled his bonnet on as he hurried into the clean-room. “Sorry I missed the test. Kennedy said it was a bust.”
“Harold hit the panic button. He thought Martin looked like he needed the de-fib paddles”
“So I hear. I just passed Harold in the locker room.”
Martin disconnected the last sensor and proceeded to extract himself from the cage. “I'm fine doc. I even caught up on a little sleep.”
“What's with the hair doc?” Ned pointed at Martins head. “Hey Martin let me help you get that thing off your head. Your lab bonnet is on the bench.”
“What's the matter with my hair?” Martin prepared himself to look surprised.
“Your roots; you seem to have turned white at the roots. It’s like you just got the shit scared out of you.” Ned backed out of the way.
Dr. Grant stepped in and put his hand to Martins head and separated out some strands. “Humm. That’s odd. Was it white before?”
“Not that I know of.” Try dying sometime, the dead kind. It'll change your whole outlook. Martin wasn't surprised about his hair. He didn't feel the need to elaborate.
As Ned turned to leave with the doctor he tasked Vinny one more time. “Vinny, will you tell Sparkle to go ahead and do a complete system download; a complete data dump. Key him to the fact that we hit a wall. He has to be extra careful to maintain data integrity on this one.”
Within a few moments, Martin stood alone in the clean-room. It all looked exactly as he remembered it, bright, white walls, overhead crane, granite lab benches, partitioned areas, the sound of the fans pressurizing the lab and too much bright white light.
His data file lay open on the bench. They needed it in case they had to notify next of kin; there were none. Instead Martin had put his mailman on the list. He could check out a few facts. I guess I have the Higgs-Boson paradox to thank for a wild trip. I didn't even have an opportunity to screw up anybody's day. He felt safe that he hadn't traversed time, and so, there wasn't the likelihood of adversely changing any future or for that matter, any present event. Which meant that he should be the same person that left the lab mere minutes ago?
He quickly reviewed the 'Alpha Test; T1 Project Scope' to see what they had hoped to accomplish with this test, but it really didn't make any difference; it never did. A Realm Definition Transfer Set Generation Test, Hmm . . . impressive . . . they're still trying to demonstrate 'spooky-action-at-a-distance'. Einstein would be proud. It's too bad that it has taken eight decades and $10.5 billion to prove his theory; and then they get it wrong. Martin only needed to make sure that he knew enough to avoid looking, or sounding like an alien. It was just best to keep his facts straight.
On to the personal data sheet; Name Martin Tr
ask, check; address, check; date . . humm close, sex, male; SS number, check; employer, check; phone, check; email, check; marital status, spouses name, dependents, check; next of kin, check; height, check; weight, that's always wrong, it's just wrong; father, deceased; mother . . . humm different middle initial; emergency contact, Mort Glitman; good. . . good. . . good, DOD security clearance, CIS level five, expired June 7 1987. Okay, looks like I'm good to go.
As Martin turned to leave he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye; someone in the observation gallery. He just saw a hand throwing something in the wastebasket while exiting. Were they watching, maybe just leaving, or was it his imagination. The reflection on the glass didn't work in Martins favor. Still those things didn't set well in his mind. Nothing could be taken for granted.
Martin finished changing into his street clothes, and left the locker room. As he passed through the lunch area, he noticed Vinny sitting at a lunch table. He was eating with all the grace of someone trying desperately to eat some incriminating evidence. “Vinny, did you see who came down from the gallery last?”
With cheeks packed out like a chipmunk he muttered “No, man. I just came back from Sparkles’ lab. I didn’t see no one.”
* * * * *
Chapter 2 – Cycle X+1
Science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind.
Albert Einstein