“Now you are definitely digressing.”
“Probably,” he said, smiling. “Look, one of the reasons why we’ve explored Lantern is to see if there just might be a way to…” He looked for the words. “Slow things down.”
She thought about it. “A seizure-like state. Not just slowing things down, slowing people down,” and then after another moment: “It’s like a human pause button.”
“What?” Now he seemed as if he were genuinely not following.
“You’re putting people on pause. That’s what you’re talking about.”
“It’s just a theory, something we played with, a kind of fail-safe. What if the world started to really get out of control?”
“You’re kidding me.”
He put his hands up, as if to say: guilty as charged. “Yes, it sounds like a joke and that’s how it probably will remain. We felt, though, it was worth exploring. Maybe, just maybe, we can use the same tools that fuel the flames to interrupt them, for just a few minutes, stop the fury from spilling over. If and when things truly come to a head, we can hit pause, as you say, reboot. We can hold people still, for a moment.”
“Wow.”
“Look, we still don’t know how it works. Maybe what you’ve identified, this electrical mechanism, it’s like the spinal cord acts as some kind of electrical antenna. I’m way out on a limb now. But it’s not so far-fetched. The cord sends electrical impulses through the body. Hell, like I say, it’s all very basic, and new. So you can see why I didn’t say anything. This will likely not go far, and you’re not compromised and…”
“No, no, no, no.” She slammed a hand on the table. Coffee spilled. “No!”
“Jackie, calm down.”
“First of all, I still don’t believe you’re telling me the full extent of it. You’ve got satellites out there, and a team. A small team, so you’re trying to keep it on the down-low. And other companies are involved. And that’s why you didn’t tell me all of it, and why you’ve still not told me.” She was shaking.
“Jackie!”
She glared at him.
“I didn’t tell you because of what’s happening right now,” he said.
“What’s happening right now? I’m just trying to get to the bottom—”
“You’re unhinged, Jackie. You’re unstable.”
She blinked rapidly. She put her palm to her right eye to will it to stop twitching. She could see that Denny regretted what he’d said. He hung his head then looked up again.
“You’ve been like a sister…”
“Don’t.”
“You’re a brilliant woman, Jackie.”
“Fuck you.” She stood up. She felt her hands once again involuntarily tightening into fists at her side. She flashed on the memory of her mother, little hands just like hers, shoving her father through and over the balcony. She turned the memory in another direction and saw herself, the little girl, watching, impotent.
“I trusted you,” she muttered.
“What?”
“I shouldn’t have. That’s the worst part of this. I made yet another stupid decision. Helpless Jackie, no compass.”
“I’m honestly not sure what you’re talking about.”
She looked down at her shoes, noticed a lace untied, tried to focus on that single image, and count. She begged herself to find control and let go of the fury. By the time she reached the number ten, she had regained herself.
“Jesus, Denny, I’m sorry. I… I was just so disappointed. I wanted you to trust me.”
“I know, Jackie. I understood that. I could see that. I tried to tell you as much as I felt it made sense.”
“I understand.” It was such an about-face that Denny couldn’t tell whether she meant it or not. “Maybe I just need to sleep this off,” she said.
“You and me both. How about you consider tomorrow a day off.”
“You mean today. Today already is tomorrow.”
He laughed. But he sensed this wasn’t over, not remotely. When Jackie left a few minutes later, he watched her walk down the stairs and frowned—because he could see, in the lamplight over the staircase, that she smiled.
Part V
Six Months Before Present Day
Thirty-Two
The Met’s next Live in HD presentation is Falstaff, Verdi’s last opera, a comedy about the randy Sir John and his botched sexual conquests. We’re at a subterranean rehearsal room three levels below the stage, where former maestro James Levin has returned to lead an early musical rehearsal with some of the principals and the cast. They’re working on the second act where the scheming Falstaff gets his comeuppance by being thrown into the Thames, along with a lot of dirty laundry.
Let’s listen in.
The image shifts from the woman introducing the scene to the background: a small ensemble of singers and musicians, led by the man at the front with wild hair. He waves a baton and a soprano’s voice soars.
Jackie smiled.
She sat on a recliner, consumed with the digital tablet on her lap. Headphones plugged into the gadget’s bottom fed her ears. A drop of drool pooled at the right corner of her mouth, lost in Lantern. This went on for more than an hour. Over and over, she saw the same video footage, her brain consumed by it.
Suddenly, she jolted. A sharp buzzing sound punctured her carefree, dull-witted isolation. The picture on her screen, and in her mind, fractured. It shattered into so many puzzle pieces. She stirred and looked up. She put a hand on the recliner chair and clung, as if steadying herself after a small earthquake or holding the railing of a boat after a swirl at sea. She blinked. Okay, she thought, I’m in the testing room at Lantern.
What am I doing here?
She pulled the headphones out and set down the tablet. Even as she surveyed the familiar scene, her mind’s eye drifted to the wonderful images of the wild-haired symphony director.
Unsteadily, she made her way to the door. So that is what Lantern felt like. More like time had stood still.
She walked out of the side door and then into the observation room—on the other side of the two-way mirror.
At a table sat Denny, facedown.
“Denny?”
Her boss and mentor didn’t move.
“Denny?” Now with more urgency. She hustled closer, shrugging off the disorientation. She leaned over the inert man. He stirred. She froze. “Denny?”
“Why…” he said.
“Denny. Are you okay?”
He tried to lift his head, but he only labored against an impossible weight. He dug for breath.
“Denny, I’ll get help. Alex!”
“You…”
“Hold on, Denny. I’ll get—”
“No!” His arm shot out and he grabbed her.
“You did this.”
“What, no. I was in the—”
He interrupted her by trying to squeeze her arm and his hand fell away and through one sidelong glance from the table he fought to meet her eye. He had to tell her something.
“You have no idea how powerful it i—” he started.
“Alex!” She interrupted him. Now many thoughts flew through her brain: What happened to Denny? and, simultaneously, It’s a blur, all of it.
“Shut it down, Jackie.” The life seemed to be draining from him by the second.
“Why didn’t you trust me?” she whispered and now she looked hurt.
He raised his head and looked suddenly revived. His eyes teared but remained steadfast on her.