‘Do you know where I got that cigarette case you like — you covet — so much? I got it from SS-Sturmbannführer Helmut Kämpfe himself, after I fucked his brains out.’
Purdue knew as little about German history as the average science geek, but one thing he knew for certain was that there was no way a forty seven year old woman could have encountered a Nazi officer in recent years, let alone rolled in the hay with him. It had to be true. And if any scientist could pull of such a stupendous feat it would be Lydia Jenner.
“I would not call it a time machine, per se,” she smiled, admiring her work from the confinement of her wheelchair, “but you are on the right track. It employs Einstein’s experimental unified field theory in part, adding in quantum gravity at a specific energy level.”
“And it is able to bend spacetime?” Purdue gasped. “It can be done?”
She lolled her head to one side and shrugged, “With an extra punch of…”
“You tease, Lydia!” Purdue cried impatiently.
“You might not believe this — a pinch of sound pulses, radio frequency at a specific amount of decibels. But that is still for me to know and you to feel awe for,” she said quickly in a juvenile tone.
Purdue could not believe it. In his mind the numbers and formulas spun, diagrams formed and theories roiled, but he could not get it together. From what he knew, and it was much, Lydia’s recipe could not possibly work. But that was something he elected to keep to himself until she could prove him wrong.
“So, what do you need from me?” he asked.
“I need you to accompany Healy to CERN. One of the CMS experiments will be conducted to detect miniature black holes,” she explained.
“But I thought the particle accelerator would be utilized primarily for producing collisions by smashing together lead ions at tremendous energy levels,” Purdue argued. “They intend to create a model where those collisions generate unprecedented temperatures, a thousand fold the heat of the centre of the Sun. Unless Alice or Atlas or one of the other detectors were saddled with black holes and dark matter and such.”
Lydia’s face contorted in a malicious intolerance, but she tried her best not to lose her temper with Purdue’s argument. She needed him to complete her experiments.
“That is of no consequence to me, Dave. Please!” she shouted, but recovered her composure. “Forget about what the media knows about CERN’s intentions with the LHC machines, okay? Jesus, my time is running out! I am in no shape — or mood — to engage in petty lectures.”
Her voice was less aggressive, although it maintained its intensity. What Purdue heard was desperation, the desperation of a dying woman.
“I’m sorry, Lydia. You must understand that this is a lot in a short time to bombard me with. Please, carry on,” he said, enfolding her shaking hands in his.
“My machine, the Voyager III, this one, needs a secondary capacitor that you will be able to find at the Alice. The one I used fried when I…” she hesitated, finding strength in Healy’s static serenity, “…when I last tested it.”
“You actually went back in time?” Purdue asked without expecting a reply. His smile was evident of his admiration and he kissed Lydia’s gossamer skin on the back of her bony hand.
“I’ll share a secret. Nikola Tesla, as you may know, was a Nazi sympathiser. But what always eluded Himmler was Tesla’s design and notes on the theories of the death ray. I stole it from Himmler and his dogs by engaging Helmut but when I had to get back to 2013 I had no time to collect the notes from where I stashed them before my time window closed at the time, you see?”
“My God, Lydia.”
Dave, do this for me and I will give you a 20 % allotment, a share in credit and profit from any successful patent. Besides, once I am dead, my executors would still make sure you get yours. I’m good for it,” she promised.
Dave Purdue had every reason to breach the law and rules for her. Financial gain was the least of his cares, but if he was part of the most monumental discovery in history, his name would be up there with the masters — Einstein, Planck, Galileo, Freddy Mercury, Archimedes, Elvis….
His addition of the musicians was just his whimsical whimsy, for fun.
“Purdue!”
He snapped out of it, “I’m in.”
Chapter 7
No more than twenty minutes after Sam put away his recorder, he found himself inside the compound where the detectors were being assembled. It was break time for most of the engineers, so they did not pay much attention to the unfamiliar face that walked with Albert Tägtgren.
“Don’t look so worried, Sam. There are so many multi-nationals working on this experiment that new faces are common around here every now and then,” the engineer smiled. He had Sam decked out in a coat and had hat, complete with a clipboard and pencil, the reason for which escaped Sam completely, but he was not about to complain being smuggled into a section that was not marked with an ‘8’.
“If I get discovered…” Sam whispered.
“You won’t, unless you act like a journalist or something. Right?” Al reminded him. “Now follow me as if you have been here before. Mind the third step. We all here know the third step is narrower than the others, and now you do too.”
“Right-o,” Sam replied, and loosened up a bit.
They headed toward the Alice detector, said a few hellos to the rival teams of scientists, with Al stopping occasionally, pretending to discuss circuits or concrete density with Sam. Along the main lines they moved until they entered a small space between the wall and the power boards. Sam could still smell it. The nauseating stench of the electrical fire permeated around them, that awful rubbery residue that settled in one’s throat.
“This is where it happened?” he asked Al.
The engineer nodded seriously, checking that they did not draw unnecessary attention.
“This is where the fire stopped. It started somewhere inside the tube. What is baffling is that the actual experiment is only due to start later this year, but what we saw was,” he swallowed hard and frowned, “not normal. I don’t want to sound like one of those people on UFO documentaries, Mr. Cleave, but I saw a man catch fire and then he was gone.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam exclaimed, feeling distinctly spooked by the imagery Albert conveyed to him. He placed his hand flat on the engineer’s chest and shook his head profusely. “Just… run that by me again. Slowly.”
“Off the record.”
“Aye, off the record, but don’t leave out anything,” Sam urged.
“I was one of seven engineers and electricians who came to inspect the two new installations we did that day. You see, we must make sure the wiring that the electricians lay are properly secured in the casings and supported according to the weight and dimension requirements,” Albert started in his hindering English. Sam was dying to move him along, but he did ask for detail, after all. In his pocket, his finger had pressed down the record button on his audio recorder, but his expression remained unchanged.
“And then?” Sam pressed.
“We heard a loud clap and then the sound of currents, electrical currents, a few meters down the tube. There was a separate slice lying on its side. I’ll show you now. Come, let’s go,” he told Sam, pulling him by his sleeve deeper into the damaged tube to where the blackened steel remains of a pod-like structure lay sprawled like a giant dead spider.
“See? There. That was a container that carried and stored a lot of generators and conductors, copper wiring and capacitors. But when we saw lighting currents come from it we raced to see what was happening. Arcs of blue lightning shot from it and when we came here, see…?” he pointed to the open side of the semi-circular container, “…we saw a human figure that was, what’s the word? Alight? Alluminated?”