Nordhausen stood frozen. What had he done? It was not possible that he had done this, was it? What did this mean?
“Good lord,” he breathed. “It’s broken!”
“Just as it always was,” said Wilberforce.
“Always was? Are you saying there was nothing more of the hieroglyphics than this single line at the top?” Nordhausen looked aghast at the man, who now began to purse his lips with a hint of indignation.
“We take very good care of everything we receive, sir,” the Curator said a bit defensively. “I can assure you that these stones are in the very same condition they were received in—if not better.” He folded his arms, a bit perturbed by this strangely dressed visitor.
“Of course,” said Nordhausen, remembering to watch what he said just now. Still, his mind was racing feverishly ahead. If something as significant at this was altered, what else was different? Oh lord, what would he find when he got back?
Nordhausen took a deep breath.
Mr. Wilberforce was politely waiting for him to say something.
“Thank you, sir,” he said with a deflated tone. “It is not how I imagined it to be. It is useless for my studies. Please excuse me, I am very tired.”
Without waiting for reply, or even escort, Nordhausen wheeled about, and walked rapidly out of the cellar, out of the museum, and dully made his way back to his hotel.
What else was different?
The thought gouged him with every step he took. He raked through each moment of his time jaunt, wondering where the fatal blow had been struck. Was it the flagrant contact with Prime Movers he had the night before? He kept replaying the scene in his mind, trying to root out what he could have done to cause this catastrophe—for a catastrophe it was. The Rosetta Stone—a touchstone that had been the key to unraveling the mysteries of Ancient Egypt, was now nothing more than a useless slab of black basalt. How, how, how could this be?
Paul’s voice returned to him, “somewhere, lost on a single wayward thread of time, a moment exists that is mated to every great event on the continuum, a whisper of inconsequential absurdity that is forever paired to the great moments of history…” He called them Pushpoints, thought Nordhausen, and I’ve gone and pushed one—that much is certain.
The thought of Paul seemed to give him a moment of solace. He had to get back! He had to get to Paul and tell him about this. If there was anyone else in the world that could help him figure this out, it would be Paul. After all, he was the one who dreamt all this time business up in the first place.
He hurried along, as if the quickening of his footsteps would somehow hasten his return to his own time again. But he suddenly realized he was still stuck here. The retraction sequence would not kick in for hours—at least in this time. Barely twenty minutes had passed back in the Berkeley labs. He had timed his jump to finish before Paul came on duty tonight to relieve him of his shift, but at least he would be the only other team member at the facility when Nordhausen completed his return… If there still was a facility, a Paul Dorland, a world he could yet make any sense of.
Maeve’s warnings were a cruel crown of thorns for him now. He resolved to lock himself away in his hotel room, where he waited miserably for the Arch to pluck him back to whatever horror might await him in San Francisco, in the twenty first century.
5
The retraction sequence kicked in like clockwork and snatched the professor away in a haze of icy fog. This time he made a point of keeping his eyes tightly closed, so he could think things through with a clear head when he returned. He was already wondering how he would explain all this to the other project team members. Kelly’s Golems were sure to key in on the altered Meridian. He had little doubt that cell phones were ringing and people were hurtling toward the lab facility to check on the alert. In a way, that might help him, he thought. The Arch was set to activate itself in the event of an alert. If anyone showed up and found the turbines running the alert would provide a nice cover story. He could say he was the first on the scene and…
No… That just would not do. He knew that Kelly would certainly be able to home in on the exact moment the equipment was activated. He’d retrieve the exact coordinates, just like he uncovered the trip to Reading Station when Nordhausen went after Lawrence’s lost manuscript. Besides, these were his friends, and he had given his word and… What should he do?
To his great surprise, there was no one waiting for him at the Arch when he returned. Excellent! The access corridor was empty when the great locks separated. He rushed up the ramp to the elevator, and was bouncing on his toes impatiently while it glided up 50 meters of rock. The tunnel leading out of the hill to the lab was vacant. When he reached the heavy automatic doors leading into the lab, he pressed his face to the small glass window and peeked through. No one was there.
He punched the button on the wall that opened the doors, and they parted. The lab was empty, though the consoles were lit up and a bright red emergency light was flashing on the alert panel. He quickly glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. He had been gone about 30 minutes… unless it was 12 hours and 30 minutes… or 25 years and 30 minutes… no, there was no use getting lost in that! He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
Be here now. Be here now.
First things first. He had to get out of these silly clothes and see what he could find out from the RAM bank report. He hurried to his office, and doffed his Victorian outfit, his mind churning. Even as he reflexively stuffed the clothing away in a laundry sack, he had the uncomfortable feeling that he was already working his cover-up. Then the urgency of his discovery seized him again. What was going on? Was the world the same one he had left, or was it radically changed now? Kelly’s RAM bank should be noting the differences and spitting out references by now. He hurried back to the lab, almost afraid to see reams of computer paper littering the floor from an overworked printer.
To his great relief however, there was no data waiting for him in the report tray when he settled into a chair by the desk. He tapped his finger on the desk, wondering what to do. Then it occurred to him that he should initiate a search, starting with the very date he had targeted and running in keywords that he was certain of… The Rosetta Stone!
In the London he had just left, the Rosetta Stone was no more than an anonymous slab of basalt, but he had seen the stone several times in his Meridian of Origin, in London, in the British Museum. Was it still there?
He swiveled over to his computer, called up the search engine, and nervously typed in: ROSETTA STONE. He paused an instant and hit Enter. There were approximately 137,000 hits. He exhaled, noticing that he was holding his breath, and began to review the data.
Nathaniel MULLIKEN / Rosetta STONE
Nathaniel MULLIKEN / Rosetta STONE. Husband: Nathaniel MULLIKEN. Born: at: Married: at: Died: at: Father: John MULLIKEN. Mother: Mary POOR. Spouses: Rosetta STONE.
Rosetta Stone – Melvin Stone… 69121 individuals, 24883 families from file 20020823.ged (23 AUG 2002) Rosetta Stone (ABT 1799 – ____) Rosetta Stone (13 JUN 1811 – ____) Manasseh Stone (CHR 23…
Bun Busters Series 07 – Starring Rosetta Stone, Rodney Moore, Tammi… Bun Busters Series 07. Company: VCR PRODUCTIONS. Length: 82 mins.