PROLOUGE
He had no physical awareness, no sense of being or existence. Absorbed into the turbulent forces of light and energy, he knew no dimensional boundaries. Time and space were lost in the surging forces that propelled him beyond even his own imagination.
But, as the luminous white glow of light slowly faded and the laws of existence returned, he knew that the transformation was not solely his own. God, or fate, or quantum physics beyond even his understanding had again reached out to him in an effort to guide someone's destiny.
He waited momentarily, as he always did, while the energy of leaping returned to its place of origin. Slowly his physical awareness returned. But with this awareness came a sense of confusion, and a need to discover his identity.
"I think, therefore I am."
He had read those words so long ago. Yet each time he was transformed, a voice in the distance, (was it his own voice?), echoed those same words in his mind.
And he took comfort in the realization that somewhere, either here or beyond, his existence was known and accepted.
Each time, he mentally echoes the same reply.
"I exist beyond, but now, I am here."
0-0—0-0-
Sam Beckett's Office, August 12, 1995
"Quantum leaping in time is often like taking a walk through a familiar woods after dark. Common landmarks are a welcome sight when trying to reach some specific destination, but in the dimly lit cast of moonlight, those familiar landmarks can appear distorted and misplaced. Even when the path is well traveled, every step must be taken slowly and with caution so as not to stumble over some unforeseen obstacle.
"Quantum leaping is often unsettling like that. Regardless of how prepared I think I am, every leap has some element of surprise. Or some unforeseen obstacle. Al often finds this fact amusing. I find it unnerving, because sometimes, a familiar woods in daylight is far more dangerous than any imagined unknown.
"This is especially true when landing into the familiar woods...of home." - Sam Beckett
0-0-0-0-0-
He found himself sitting at a desk, facing a computer screen that displayed a long series of numbers and letters stretching into an infinite, and familiar equation. He leaned forward to examine the display. The formula defined the shortest time from point A to point B in a three dimensional torus structure. He smiled as he recalled the outpouring of scientific criticism when he publicly proposed this as part of his theory fro Quantum Travel. Scientific publications throughout the world touted him as both a genius and a dreamer, and then went on to suggest he concentrate on the genius aspect, and leave the dreaming to the science fiction writers who are allowed the liberty of nonsense.
But the memory quickly faded as he realized that this might be more than a case of deja-vu. He nervously raised his eyes from the computer screen and scanned the room. To his amazement, he found exactly what he had not expected.
Bookshelves lined the wall beside him. Behind him, a window offered a view of the sultry New Mexico desert. Across the room was a door that opened into a corridor. Beside the door was a closet. Even without looking, he knew the contents of the closet. He opened the closet door anyway, and confirmed his suspicions.
Everything inside the closet was just as he had left it on the night he stepped into the accelerator and vanished. The floor and shelves were stacked with the original, hand scrawled plans of Project Quantum Leap. The plans that he and AL had lavishly devised on a fishing trip to Lake Mead. In addition, there were stacks of computer discs, a bamboo fishing pole, and a hockey puck that served no functional purpose on the New Mexico desert, several lab coats, two changes of clothing,and a basketball. On the inside of the door hung a mirror large enough for shaving.
Sam heaved a sigh of relief, and raised his eyes to see his own image reflected in the glass. Finally, he raised his hand and stroked the few strands of gray hair that fell just above his left eye.
Sam slammed the door shut and leaned heavily against it, pressing the palms of his hands firmly against the door. He sucked in a deep breath and tried to swallow the knot of fear that gripped his throat. Then, tripping over his own feet, Sam retreated to the desk and looked at the calendar. Thursday, April 12. So far as he could tell, nothing in the room had been changed since the day he took that fateful first leap. Sam fell into the chair behind his desk and sat spellbound, allowing himself a moment to adsorb the impact of events.
He was home! Dr. Samuel Beckett's theory of Quantum Time Travel was a success albeit with a few kinks, the theory was finally proved.
Sam opened the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled out his hand lights danced from the bio-stimulation generated by the warmth of his hand. The small device gave him computer access from any location within the project. Sam stroked the hand link absently with his thumb and activated the voice mode from the computer base on his desk.
"Ziggy!" Sam said excitedly.
"On line, Dr. Beckett," Ziggy immediately responded.
The computerized voice was deep and husky and could easily grate on one's nerves, but this somehow managed to escape Sam's notice.
"Is that really you?" Sam asked. "I can't believe it's really you. How are you, Ziggy?"
"Functionally, I have yet to achieve optimum capacity. However, I understand that is being slowly remedied. Human workmanship leaves much to be desired, Dr. Becket, present company excepted."
Sam smiled when he heard Ziggy's voice modulated response.
Had it really been five years, (save one brief encounter) since he had actually conversed with the hybrid computer? Five years with no tangible contact with friends or family? Five years since he had even the slightest control over his own life and destiny?"
"Where's Al?" Sam asked.
"Admiral Calavicci arrived sixteen minutes ago. I believe he is on his way, now."
"On his way?"
"A mind boggling night, Dr. Beckett? The Admiral is on his way to your office. It is not really a difficult concept to grasp. On his way implies that..."
"I know what it implies, Ziggy. You certainly haven't changed at all, have you?"
"Change requires a relative period of time, Dr. Becket, Of course, with my capabilities, that time could be computed in nanoseconds. However, if you actually think that I require additional change, perhaps you should review my microchips and megabytes. Your input has, after all, always been a caliber above the accepted human norm."
Sam smiled and shook his head. "Tell Al that I'll meet him in the waiting room."
"As you wish.:
:Oh, and Ziggy?"
"Yes Dr. Becket?"
"It's been nice talking to you again."
"So you say, Dr. Becket."
Sam slipped the hand link into his back pocket and kicked the desk drawer shut with his foot. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. HE closed his eyes and sighed deeply, relishing the fact that he was home. He wanted to savor the moment, for he knew that within a few hours, his return would be widely known within security and government circles involved in the project. It was simply a matter of time before he'd be facing countless congressional interviews, not to mention the interrogations by the research sector and the media. He wondered how long it would be before he could finally settle back down to the mundane routine of research and experimentation. Perhaps another Nobel Prize lay in the offing. That would ensure an active market for additional funding and research.
Sam smiled as he slowly opened his eyes again and stretched his arms into the air. "Congratulations, Dr. Beckett. They said it couldn't be done!" Sam shouted joyfully.
Laughing loudly, Sam jumped out of his chair and took loping strides toward the door. "You're home Sam! You're finally home!' he bellowed.
Sam took the elevator down the ten levels to the waiting room. As he walked down the hall, he felt a building sense of anticipation. For five years Al had been his only link to everything he had left behind. Now he was about to come face-to-face with his trusted friend. He would actually be able to wrap his arms around Al. Al was no longer an intangible hologram. Sam quickened his pace to hasten this encounter.
Sam passed the security sealed laboratory doors and rounded the corner. At the end of the hall, next to the control room was the waiting room. Sam slid his hand over the identity scanner and the doors slid open.
The stark white room was lighted by florescent ceiling and wall lights that cast no shadows. The only piece of furniture was a large, mirrored table in the center of the room. The sound and visual observational devices had yet to be installed and the acoustics were such that Sam footsteps echoed as he walked.
Al had yet to arrive, thus delaying the grand reunion. Sam paced the floor impatiently until temptation finally got the better of him. He moved to the edge of the table and looked down into the mirrored surface, reaffirming what he already knew. In spite of this insurance, Sam felt the hair on the back of his neck rise when his own image reflected back at him and the last inkling of doubt finally ebbed.
The clattering sound of the door sliding open startled Sam and he turned quickly to see Al arrive. Al was preoccupied with with the government report sheets he held clutched in his hands and merely walked across the room, muttering to himself as he brushed by Sam.
Both surprised and dejected, Sam walked up to Al and stood just inches from him. Al unfastened the neck button of his Navy whites. Only then did he noticed Sam's perturbed expression.
"Well?" Sam asked.
Al studied Sam's face. "Well, what?" Al asked
"Well don't you think some congratulations are in order?"
Al started to speak, then reconsidered. He pressed the report sheets into Sam's chest. "Constant optimism grows a little tiresome sometimes, Sam. With this budget proposal, Washington will surely turn down our funding."
Sam was beginning to feel exasperated. "Who cares, it works, Al! I'm living, breathing proof the project works!"
"Without the funding we can't go any further than this," Al grumbled.
Sam's patience continued to wane. He grabbed Al by the coat sleeve and pulled him over to the table. He leaned forward so his reflection was looking up at them both.
"Isn't this proof enough?"
"SAM!" The voice reverberated violently throughout the room, causing Sam to duck slightly.
A little perplexed and still very impatient, Sam stood up and angrily took a step backward, never taking his now glaring gaze off of Al.
"What's going on here?" Sam demanded. "Aren't you the least..."
"SAM BECKETT, DON'T SAY ANOTHER WOED. NOT ANOTHER WORD UNTIL WE HAVE A CHANCE TO TALK."
The voice bellowed so urgently that Sam stopped mid sentence. Sam stared at Al, his brows knitted tightly as he tried to grasp the situation. The words had not come from Al's mouth, yet the voice was very distinctly that of Al Calavicci. With a sudden feeling of marked trepidation, Sam slowly turned to his left
"Sam are you alright?"In an instant Sam's worst fears had become a reality. There beside him, wearing a bright yellow racing jacket and purple nylon pants stood Al Calavicci. In his hand was a burning cigar. A cigar Sam could not smell.
"No, no, no, no, no,..." Sam said taking a step back.
Al, the hologram rubbed his chin and tried not to look as worried as he felt. He knew the next few minutes were critical to Sam's frame of mind, and he was very reluctant to leave Sam to return to the waiting room. But he also knew the situation there was undoubtedly just as confusing.
"Sam, I know this is hard, Buddy, but you have to listen to me. I have to go back to the waiting room to check on what's happening there," Al explained with forced calmness in his voice. "I want you to stay right here and wait for me. Don't ask any questions, and for God's sake, whatever you do, don't tell anyone what is going on. Do you understand me?" the hologram asked.
"Sam, you look like you've seen a ghost," the tangible Al said, gripping Sam's arm.
"I have," Sam whispered.
Sam felt dazed. He looked into the perplexed face of the man still gripping his arm. He wanted to say something. He wanted to explain. But he couldn't find his voice.
""Sam, listen to me," the hologram said. "Sam, look at me, Buddy. You've got to pull yourself together."
Sam turned and stared vacantly at the hologram. He knew that seeing this projected image of Al could mean only one thing. He was not home, not in any real sense of the word.
The whispered sounds of both Sam and the hologram spoke simultaneously.
"Oooooooh Boy."