“Yes, I am afraid I can,” Doc replied.
“In an earlier attempt, we trawled a limousine off the Fujishrio Bypass in Japan with driver and passenger, a woman of ill repute in transit from a whorehouse to a wealthy client. Our aim was to bring back living matter, not automobiles, but in this case what appeared in the mat-trans chamber here was an amalgam of both parties. Suffice to say, neither man nor woman survived.”
Welles got up from his desk and walked over to where Doc was seated, bending to whisper in his ear. “Do you want to survive?” “Yes.”
“I don’t think so. You have damaged your credibility with such a foolish escape attempt, and you are now under arrest. All of your B12 access privileges to Chronos are revoked. You are not to be anywhere without a guard.”
“When am I to begin your treatments for reverse trawl?”
“Soon, Dr. Tanner, soon. After all, the millennium is fast approaching.”
As WAS HIS ROUTINE in Chicago, then Dulce, and now Virginia, Allan Harvey paused in front of Doc’s holding quarters to talk. His security team had been transferred each time with Tanner and Welles, all of them traveling across the country together. He’d seen less and less of Doc once the doctor had been allowed access to Chronos, but now, after the escape attempt, Tanner had been returned to the holding area.
The room was spare, but complete with bed, desk, television set and other amenities. As was his habit, Doc had the television on with the sound off, allowing him to read without intruding noises and yet able to look up from time to time to see what was unfolding on the screen. If it looked interesting, he merely hit the mute button and brought back the sound.
“Good evening, Doc,” Allan said. Tanner was sitting up in his bunk, his back propped up against the wall with a pillow. He was holding a scuffed hardcover book with the unlikely title of A Brief History of Time.
“Salutations, my friend.”
“What you reading?”
“The theories of a man named Hawking. I have studied this book half a dozen times since my arrival. He seems to have unknowingly hit upon some of the techniques being carried out within Operation Chronos, and yet while agreeing some of the time, he goes off in entirely different directions. According to Hawking, much of what is being done here is impossible as the world now understands science.”
“Yeah, I guess. You hear all kinds of rumors, Doc. My favorite has the U.S. government in an alliance with some alien cartel that gave us all this technology.”
Tanner snorted. “Poppycock.”
“I know. It does sound like a crock, doesn’t it?” the burly security man agreed. “Glad to see you’re back in your old habits. After that escape attempt, I guess you’re settling in, Doc, from what I’ve been hearing.”
“Aye, noble Allan, that I am.” The security man shrugged. “Looks can be deceiving, though, can’t they? I mean, you know and I know that you’re not exactly doing what the bosses think you’re doing, are you?”
“No, I am not.” Doc flashed his teeth. “Nothing is ever what it seems.”
“They might have killed you instead of just limiting your access in the redoubt, you know,” Allan said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“I was willing to take the risk. If I succeeded, to hell with them. If I failed, well, I am beyond caring whether I live or die. I have outlived all I knew, all my friends, my-” and his voice caught “-my loved ones. My family. No, they did not kill me. I remain too valuable. They yearn for my agreement.” “Agreement?” Allan looked puzzled. Doc put down the book and stared at the flickering television set. “I am but a cog in a greater plan, Allan. Their wishes are my own. They wish to send me back home to my proper time and place.”
“So, what’s stopping them? Or you? I mean, that’s what you want, right?” “Yes…and no.” “So who’s the hold up?” Doc sighed. “I am.” “You?”
“Me. And my hesitation comes from what they call an ‘alternate event horizon.’ See, if I had not been taken away from Omaha in 1896,1 would have gone on to become a very important man. I am not bragging about this, merely stating a fact. My studies and oratory would have influenced generations.”