The group was silent, staring at him. The Land Cruiser came into a clearing. They saw a number of two-story buildings, brick and glass. They looked surprisingly ordinary. This could be any one of those small industrial parks found on the outskirts of many American cities. Marek said, "This is ITC?"
"We like to keep a low profile," Gordon said. "Actually, we chose this spot because there is an old mine here. Good mines are getting hard to find now. So many physics projects require them."
Off to one side, working in the glare of floodlights, several men were getting ready to launch a weather balloon. The balloon was six feet in diameter, pale white. As they watched, it moved swiftly up into the sky, a small instrument bundle hanging beneath. Marek said, "What's that about?"
"We monitor the cloud cover every hour, especially when it's stormy. It's an ongoing research project, to see if the weather is the cause of any interference."
"Interference with what?" Marek asked.
The car pulled up in front of the largest building. A security guard opened the door. "Welcome to ITC," he said with a big smile. "Mr. Doniger is waiting for you."
Doniger walked quickly down the hallway with Gordon. Kramer followed behind. As he walked, Doniger scanned a sheet of paper that listed everybody's names and backgrounds. "How do they look, John?"
"Better than I expected. They're in good physical shape. They know the area. They know the time period."
"And how much persuading will they need?"
"I think they're ready. You just have to be careful talking about the risks."
"Are you suggesting I should be less than entirely honest?" Doniger said.
"Just be careful how you put it," Gordon said. "They're very bright."
"Are they? Well, let's have a look."
And he threw the door open.
Kate and the others had been left alone in a plain, bare conference room - scratched Formica table, folding chairs all around. On one side was a large markerboard with formulas scrawled on it. The formulas were so long that they ran the entire width of the board. It was completely mysterious to her. She was about to ask Stern what the formulas were for, when Robert Doniger swept into the room.
Kate was surprised by how young he was. He didn't look much older than they were, especially dressed in sneakers, jeans and a Quicksilver T-shirt. Even late at night, he seemed full of energy, going around the table quickly, shaking hands with each of them, addressing them by name. "Kate," he said, smiling at her. "Good to meet you. I've read your preliminary study on the chapel. It's very impressive."
Surprised, she managed to say, "Thank you," but Doniger had already moved on.
"And Chris. It's nice to see you again. I like the computer-simulation approach to that mill bridge; I think it will pay off."
Chris had time only to nod before Doniger was saying, "And David Stern. We haven't met. But I gather you're also a physicist, as I am."
"That's right"
"Welcome aboard. And Andr. Not getting any shorter! Your paper on the tournaments of Edward I certainly set Monsieur Contamine straight. Good work. So: please, all of you, please sit down."
They sat, and Doniger moved to the head of the table.
"I will get right to the point," Doniger said. "I need your help. And I will tell you why. For the last ten years, my company has been developing a revolutionary new technology. It is not a technology of war. Nor is it a commercial technology, to be sold for profit. On the contrary, it is an entirely benign and peaceful technology that will provide a great benefit to mankind. A great benefit. But I need your help."
"Consider for a moment," Doniger continued, "how unevenly technology has impacted the various fields of knowledge in the twentieth century. Physics employs the most advanced technology - including accelerator rings many miles in diameter. The same with chemistry and biology. A hundred years ago, Faraday and Maxwell had tiny private labs. Darwin worked with a notebook and a microscope. But today, no important scientific discovery could be made with such simple tools. The sciences are utterly dependent on advanced technology. But what about the humanities? During this same time, what has happened to them?"
Doniger paused, rhetorically. "The answer is, nothing. There has been no significant technology. The scholar of literature or history works exactly as his predecessors did a hundred years before. Oh, there have been some minor changes in authentication of documents, and the use of CD-ROMs, and so forth. But the basic, day-to-day work of the scholar is exactly the same."
He looked at each of them in turn. "So we have an inequity. The fields of human knowledge are unbalanced. Medieval scholars are proud that in the twentieth century their views have undergone a revolution. But physics has undergone three revolutions in the same century. A hundred years ago, physicists argued about the age of the universe and the source of the sun's energy. No one on earth knew the answers. Today, every schoolchild knows. Today, we have seen the length and breadth of the universe, we understand it from the level of galaxies to the level of subatomic particles. We have learned so much that we can speak in detail about what happened during the first few minutes of the birth of the exploding universe. Can medieval scholars match this advance within their own field? In a word, no. Why not? Because no new technology assists them. No one has ever developed a new technology for the benefit of historians - until now."
A masterful performance, Gordon thought. One of Doniger's best - charming, energetic, even excessive at moments. Yet the fact was, Doniger had just given them an exciting explanation for the project - without ever revealing its true purpose. Without ever telling them what was really going on.
"But I told you I needed your help. And I do."
Doniger's mood changed. He spoke slowly now, somber, concerned. "You know that Professor Johnston came here to see us because he thought we were withholding information. And in a way, we were. We did have certain information that we hadn't shared, because we couldn't explain how we got it."
And, Gordon thought, because Kramer screwed up.
"Professor Johnston pushed us," Doniger was saying. "I'm sure you know his way. He even threatened to go to the press. Finally we showed him the technology we are about to show you. And he was excited - just as you will be. But he insisted on going back, to see for himself."
Doniger paused. "We didn't want him to go. Again, he threatened. In the end, we had no choice but to let him go. That was three days ago. He is still back there. He asked you for help, in a message he knew you would find. You know that site and time better than anyone else in the world. You have to go back and get him. You are his only chance."
"What exactly happened to him after he went back?" Marek said.
"We don't know," Doniger said. "But he broke the rules."
"Rules?"
"You have to understand that this technology is still very new. We've been cautious about how we use it. We have been sending observers back for about two years now - using ex-marines, trained military people. But of course they are not historians, and we have kept them on a tight leash."
"Meaning what?"
"We haven't ever let our observers enter the world back there. We haven't allowed anyone to stay longer than an hour. And we haven't allowed anyone to go more than fifty yards from the machine. Nobody has ever just left the machine behind and gone off into the world."
"But the Professor did?" Marek said.
"He must have, yes."
"And we'll have to, too, if we're going to find him. We'll have to enter the world."
"Yes," Doniger said.
"And you're saying we're the first people ever to do this? The first people ever to step into the world?"
"Yes. You, and the Professor before you."
Silence.
Suddenly, Marek broke into a broad grin. "Terrific," he said. "I can't wait!"
But the others said nothing. They looked uneasy, edgy.