Jim found it hard to concentrate on Lorentz’s briefing. All he could think of was Rebecca, the feel of her hair in his hands, the scent of her as she had slept silently beside him, curved into the concavity of his body. The taste of her skin beneath his lips.
It was hackneyed, he knew, clichéd even, but for the first time in his life, he finally felt complete.
“Jim, are you with us?”
“What? Oh! Sorry.” Lorentz’s voice broke him from his reverie and he realized the entire team, gathered around the conference table, was staring at him, smiles creasing their faces. He glanced at Becky and saw her face flush with embarrassment.
They had decided not to tell anybody that they were an item yet, Hell, he didn’t even know if they were an item. They would wait until the experiment was over and then they could announce it. Until then they would be forced to sneak around like a couple of teenagers. But judging by the knowing smirks on the rest of the teams faces, it looked like their secret was already out.
He turned his face to a smiling Lorentz and said “I’m sorry Mitchell, what were you saying?”
“I was talking about the preparations for tonight’s action, Jim,” said Lorentz returning to seriousness. “How is the purity of the power supply?”
“I had a couple of problems with interference yesterday but I managed to isolate it to the guards’ radio system. Horatio was kind enough to install a low-band filter in-line with the generator and that’s done the trick. Purity of ninety-nine point seven percent now.”
“Excellent. Excellent,” said Lorentz ticking the item of his list.
“Now, Mr. Mabry, how are your final preparations coming along?”
Thirty-Nine
It was 23.30 hours, and just half-an—hour remained until the project’s midnight deadline. The already cramped confines of the transmitter room had become even more claustrophobic with the presence of the Church’s camera operator, sound technician, and of course, Simone.
Lorentz was growing more frustrated by the moment; Jim could see it in the rosy flush that was beginning to creep into his cheeks. The Church crew shadowed Lorentz as he moved through the room, running diagnostics on the seemingly antiquated solid-state computer systems they were forced to use. No Nano-Comps this time; they wouldn’t be invented for another fifteen years or so.
Lorentz stopped at a terminal and peered closely at the screen. The action was an old habit, one he had seen repeated numerous times by the majority of people who had found themselves returned to their younger selves. When you have spent the best part of what was supposed to be the last years of your life having to adjust to poor eyesight, it was hard to escape the habit of leaning in to get a better view of what you were trying to look at. Jim saw Lorentz catch himself and withdraw to a better focal point.
The tension in the room was palpable. As the clock ticked away the minutes to the experiment’s start, the weight of responsibility and the inevitable destruction of humankind if the experiment failed was now, finally, coming to bear squarely on the team’s shoulders. Tempers were short, excitement was high, and Simone’s team was definitely not helping matters.
Dressed in a two-piece tweed suit, Simone looked the epitome of nouveau-gentry; elegant and stylish, yet conservative enough to appeal to the Church’s true believers. She was blindingly beautiful and Jim watched her graceful movements as she placed herself behind Lorentz’s back and began talking in a quiet voice to the camera, explaining to her viewers exactly what was occurring.
Earlier in the afternoon she had met with each of the Tach-Comm team members to personally interview them, extracting information about their role within the team and precisely how the experiment would be conducted.
When it had come to Jim’s turn, she had been the consummate professional, almost cold in her interview technique, with no hint that there was any kind of a past between them. He had found himself becoming angry at her lack of warmth, answering her questions with equal iciness. But her final question had caught him completely off guard.
Leaning back in her chair, Simone had bluntly asked him, “Do you believe in God, Mr. Baston?”
Jim had blinked reflexively at the question. In all the years they had been married he could not recall a single discussion between them on the subject of religion. He had assumed she was as much of an unbeliever as he was.
The whirr of the camera lens focusing tightly on his face drew his eyes from Simone’s to the machine’s own single cold eye. Behind the camera lens the rest of humanity, current and future watched, and they would hold him accountable for all eternity by his words and actions. He stared directly into the lens for a long moment and then said with a deliberate tone of nonchalance, “No. I do not.”
Simone had smiled at Jim, thanked him for his time and left, along with her crew. Now here she was, explaining to her viewers the process of the experiment and its set up. Her voice was hushed and concerned as she spoke directly to the camera, her back to Lorentz. The microphone, suspended from the limb of the boom-mike held by the cadaverous Beaumont, hung over her head as she spoke directly to the camera.
Lorentz was concentrating on calibrating the equipment; Jim could see his eyes scanning over the figures displayed on his VDU, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he entered data into the system. With a final stab at the enter key he swung around and collided with Simone’s back, sending her staggering forward. The cameraman threw out a free arm and caught the stumbling woman before she could fall.
“Good God almighty,” bellowed Lorentz, “Must you follow me everywhere? I have a job to do here. Do you people not realize what’s at stake? Do you think your God is going to wave a finger and stop what’s about to take place from happening? Do you? Well do you?” Spittle flew from his mouth as his rage and frustration began to manifest.
Simone stood up and adjusted her crumpled suit, turned to Gallagher and said something to him that Jim did not catch. He immediately brought the camera to bear on Lorentz and Jim watched the color in the Doctor’s face go from pink to nuclear red.
“You have been quoted as having accepted the blame for the Slip, Professor Lorentz. Father Pike has also been quoted as saying that he believes that is just scientific ego attempting to claim responsibility for God’s great work. How do you feel about that?” Simone finished her question with a slight inquisitive tilt of her head, awaiting the professor’s reply.
Lorentz raised his finger and pointed it directly at the camera, seemingly on the verge of exploding. No words came from his mouth such was his rage, they were trapped behind his teeth, battling to be first out, first to make the cutting blow that would reduce this bunch of interlopers to so much chopped liver. A pale Mina Belkov stepped up to Lorentz and took his elbow in her hand, but the scientist shook her off.
Unarmored and unarmed, Jim jumped into the fray. “Why don’t I show you the rest of the facility,” he said softly to Simone as he stepped between the camera and the glowering Lorentz. “Follow me,” he continued, his tone of voice making his words a command rather than a request.
Simone gazed at Jim before saying, “Sure, but we will need to be back here for the final experiment—come on, let’s go.”
“I need a bathroom break anyway,” said Gallagher as he laid his camera equipment on a table near the doorway. “The damn food here is playing havoc with my system.” As if to emphasize the point, he let loose a loud belch. “I’ll catch up with you in the other room.”