"Are we ready to fire her up?" Asked Professor Kate Thompson, the leading physicist for this particular experiment with the Large Hadron Collider at CERN. Her colleague nodded, checking a few temperature on his monitor.

"Magnets are running at an optimal temperature..." He murmured, studying the numbers in front of him. He looked up, with a smile. "We're good to go."

This experiment had taken years to come to this point. Designed by Kate, and enabled by the recent opening of the LHC to outsider physicists, this experiment was to test practically for any proof for string theory and the idea of a multiverse. There is something else out there, I know it. It can't just be us.

She was now sat comfortably in front of the proverbial big red button (it was in fact a little on/off switch to start the machine up - the rest was clever programming), and she could hardly contain her excitement. He colleagues bustled around her, checking numbers and readings and temperatures and all she could do is look at her master monitor, with everything looking perfectly optimal.

Any failure at this point would be catastrophic for her work. She would have to wait years to get her hands on this machine again, and even then, they might not let her. Or worse, someone could get there before her. This lurked in the back of her mind, the only thing still connecting her to reality, the only thing stopping her from flicking the switch straight away. They had to be sure they had this right. This was their only chance.

The noise in the operating room had slowly lowered to a hum of whisperers, as people sat down at their stations, having checked, double checked, triple checked everything. The moment was here. Everyone watched her closely, as she glanced around, convincing herself that all was ready. A couple nods here and there and she pushed the switch up.

A small red light appeared above their heads, indicating that the machine was running the program. There was absolute silence as everyone studied the numbers of their respective monitors. They called out at intervals, temperatures and speeds, whether they were expected or unexpected.

"Approaching the speed of sound." Called one man, an elderly scientist, an old friend of her father's. "Speed barrier broken." He said almost immediately after.

"Temperatures normal." A younger woman called.

"Wait, temperatures rising, still within normal boundries."

"Approaching light speed."

"Ions are now in the final chamber."

"Speed reached."

"Temperatures are still rising."

All of these began to fade into the background as she watched the readout on her monitor. She could see all these things that were being called out but she stared at one small square of black - the dectection readout. This would produce the image she had been waiting for. The picture of the Ions smashing together, the fallout of tiny sub atomic particles, creating themselves out of nothing, and vibrating in such a way that would prove that she was right and that she was not alone. Or prove her wrong, and her life's work would be dropped.

She had brought the reference she had designed, what she would expect to see if this worked, the mess of lines exploding from one central point (the collision), creating its own big bang, its own universe and its own multiverse. The funny squiggly lines that seemed completely unrelated to the rest of the image represented this. They represented the vibration across matter, across anti matter, across universes.

She stared at the screen, knowing the time was close.

An alarm went off, dragging her back to reality. A red light was flashing now, as the alarm rang in her ears.

"Temperatures are too high, we need to abort!" Her colleague reached across her, where the real big red button lay - the emergancy shut down.

"No!" She shrieked, swatting his hand away. "Don't touch it, we're too close to stop now!" Kate wrestled with her friend and colleague as the program entered its final stages and the Ions were collided. She shoved him away to look at the screen, and there was her work, all beautifully laid out. The messy squiggly line across the collision, her beautiful line was there.

She didn't notice the alarm still going off, the panic behind her, and the explosion of white light from one of the few viewing windows that looked out over one of the LHC's chambers.

I did it, she thought, smiling happily. I really... And then she was engulphed by the bright white light.