Chapter 23
Six Days, Seven Hours, Thirty-One Minutes
"I don't believe it," Mentnor muttered, barely audible, as he approached the wall of glass. He stared into the containment room, studying the smiling face of the man beyond his reach. "I'm seeing it with my own two eyes, but, sure as I can feel the ground beneath my feet, I know that this is virtually impossible."
"Yeah, I seem to be getting an awful lot of that today, Isaac!" Parker cried, laughing, pressing himself up against the cold glass. "If it's all the same to you, however, I'll be the first to say that it's awfully good to see your face."
"Well," the scientist began, arching an eyebrow, "I did say that your being here was only 'virtually' impossible, Frank." He grew silent, quietly studying the other man's features, glancing into the chrononaut's deep, dark eyes. "Ever since I began my tenure with BackStep, I've had to constantly rethink the definition of what is and what is not even remotely 'possible.'" Cautiously, he placed his fingertips to the glass. Parker did the same, mirroring their two hands in a gesture of friendship. "Then again, Frank Parker pushed even that definition beyond the limits of what I ever thought was capable."
"Then you know that it's me?"
Slowly, the white-haired man nodded. "Trust me," he replied. "Knowing you the way that I do, I know that there is no possible way it could be anyone else."
"Do you see, Bradley? Do you see? I told you that Isaac would know it was me!"
The director stepped up to where the two men were locked in conversation. "There was never a doubt in my mind that Isaac would conclude otherwise, Frank."
"Then you have to let me out of here!"
"Take it easy."
"Absolutely not!" Mentnor suddenly barked. "As much as it pains me to say so, I'm afraid that there's only one place you're going, Frank, and that's back in that damned Sphere. As soon as we can get your craft fueled, you'll be BackStepping out of here!"
Taken aback, Parker moved away from the wall.
"Isaac?" he asked. "What? What is it? What's wrong?"
Glaring at Talmadge, the scientist demanded, "Did you tell him?"
"No, I haven't."
"Told me what?" Parker demanded.
"You have to tell him."
"I was waiting for you to get here."
"Tell me what?" the chrononaut pressed. "You guys! Stop talking about me as if I'm not here! I'm standing in front of you! Tell me whatever it is the hell you need to tell me, and then let me out of this cage so I can complete my mission!"
Mentnor pivoted, fixing his eyes on the captured younger man. "Frank, I want you to listen to me. Bradley should have already told you this, but I guess he's leaving the Devil's work to me!"
"Now," Talmadge interrupted, "wait just a minute, Isaac ..."
Ignoring the director's protests, the man continued: "Frank, the fabric of the universe is a far more fragile tapestry than any of us associated to Project BackStep ever conceived. I didn't see it. Ballard didn't see it. Of course, the pencil-pushers at the NSA never suspected it. Even Bradley didn't see it ... not that it was ever his job to look. That's what he had John and me for, but, near the end, John and I disagreed over the mathematical probabilities of parallel universes, quantum physics, and the extraordinarily unique relationship between time and space."
"Whoa!" Parker threw up his hands. "Cool the science, Isaac. I'm the guy on the horse. Granted, it's a Triple Crown winner no one on the planet ever dreamed of, but I'm still just the jockey."
"That's what we thought, Frank," Mentnor explained, taking his hand away from the wall as he started to pace in front of the younger man. "That's what all of us thought ... from the very beginning. But that's the kind of thinking that should have long ago killed this program! Everyone involved with it should have been re-assigned to other classified projects ... or, better yet, all of us should've been directed to find a way to avert the use of such technology given the potential threat it posed to mankind."
"Threat?" Parker asked. "Isaac? What are you talking about?" Pointing at the director, he tried, "Bradley said it himself a little while ago. He told me that I couldn't begin to imagine the number of lives traveling through time has affected, but you're talking like I'm the AntiChrist!"
"Even that would be a favorable alternative!"
Abruptly, Talmadge slapped his hand against the glass. "Dammit, Isaac! That's enough!"
"I'm just getting started!"
"No, you're not!" Talmadge countered. "If you think that I brought you here so that you personally lecture me about my responsibility to maintaining some kind of temporal directive, then you're sorely misguided and sadly mistaken. You and I have had that debate too many times. If you'd like, then we can have again ... when it's far more convenient! Right now, I need your expertise in temporal theory, and, if you can forgive the irony, I need it fast." Gesturing at the containment wall, he pressed, "As you can see, the man behind that glass is Frank Parker. Is he the Frank Parker born and bred in our universe? No, he's not. Frank already understands that. That much, I've made perfectly clear. As to the fate of our chrononaut, I'll leave that to you to decide if it's vital information to this situation. But, as far as I'm concerned, now isn't the time." Talmadge walked over to where the scientist stood. "In my opinion, what he needs ... what I need ... is to understand exactly why he's here and how to get him back." Calming, the director sighed heavily. "Please, Isaac. John's gone. That leaves just you. You're the only one who can possibly make any sense of ... of this."
Exhausted, Parker cried, "Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?"
Slowly, Mentnor approached the chamber wall. He noticed the chair – the one Bradley had used earlier – and sat in it.
"Frank, you do understand that you've entered a parallel universe?"
"Isaac, nothing else would account for these warm greetings, yours included."
Ignoring the younger man's cynicism, Mentnor tried, "And you've been to one before?"
"Like I told Bradley, I've been to them more times than I care to revisit," he answered. "All I want to know is how to get back home. I've a mission to complete, and, apparently, I'm not going to get much cooperation here."
Calculatingly, Mentnor held up his two hands. Using his forefingers and thumbs, he made an oblong box for the chrononaut to see. "In the fabric of time and space, John and I grew certain of one constant: two timelines were never to meet. Still, we invented a term for just such a theoretical phenomenon. We called the event a 'parallel convergence.' What it means is simple: two timelines – two Earths with histories of extraordinarily similar events – would chronologically become a threat to one another."
"How so?" Parker asked.
Suddenly, the scientist collapsed the rectangle he had made from his hands. "Annihilation. See, Frank, two timelines with histories so similar to one another would be like two weights lying in the same cosmic blanket. Eventually, as the timelines grew even more and more similar, the weights would roll closer together. As events took place, these weights would become indistinguishable from one another. They'd merge for the sake of temporal supremacy. You've heard the saying that two heads are better than one? Well, think of this as the precise opposite. One world – in the fabric of time – was better than two. After all, two timelines that eventually grew identical would rule out the need for both worlds to exist. One universe would be the result. John – well, that is to say the John Ballard of our universe – always liked to call Time a predator that fed upon itself. Hungry with an insatiable appetite, Time wouldn't allow two universes so similar in people, places, and events to exist simultaneously. So, Time would mend the fabric, feed on itself, and force these two timelines to converge."
"But," Parker tried, attempting to put the pieces of the cosmic puzzle together on his own, "what about those differences between the two timelines? I mean ... we're talking about whole worlds here, Isaac. I'm not a rocket scientist, but even I know that, mathematically, there's no way the two timelines could be completely identical?"
Mentnor smiled, but he didn't reveal any happy sentiments. Parker had seen it before. It was a smile reserved for funerals.
"That's a very wise observation, Frank, one I had many times in my debates with John." Suddenly, his face lost all expression. "In theory, whichever timeline won would wreck havoc with disparate elements of the other world."
"Wreck havoc?" Parker thought about the possibility for a long moment. "You mean ... Isaac, do you mean there would be massive deaths? People who existed in one timeline but not the other ... they'd have to be ... they'd have to be eliminated?"
"Yes," Mentnor agreed. "Plagues. Famines. Floods. Even mass suicide. Whatever it took, Time would see those elements not belonging in the converged world were wiped clean, eradicated from existence itself." He raised an eyebrow. "Biblical, I suppose you could say. Ballard and I often argued about what the possible religious implications could be to such a theory as parallel convergence, but conceptualizing the miraculous, the divine was never one of our collective specialties."
"And this is what you think has happened, Isaac?" Talmadge asked.
After a pause, the white haired man shook his head. "No," he answered simply. "As I said, this was all theory. This was rhetorical debate between two scientists pushing one another to reach solutions that challenged perception. Even with the Sphere, we had practical means of proving the possibility of parallel convergence, not that we'd ever want to. However, based upon our shared understanding of temporal mechanics, we still believed convergence was a very likely possibility." Then, he held up his rectangle again for both of them to see. "What I think has happened here is that Frank is from an alternate reality – an alternate timeline – and I do believe that our mutual histories – the people and events – are very similar. There are enough events that have occurred, are occurring, or will occur to allow for the two timelines to retain their unique individuality ... except for this." The man separated his hands, and he held up his forefingers.
"Your fingers?" Parker asked.
Mentnor smiled. "I have missed your sense of humor, Frank."
"It was always my gift with the ladies."
"A parallelogram," the scientist explained. "Our timelines are similar. I would risk a guess that they are very similar. In Frank's as well as ours, he was the first successful chrononaut. In Frank's as well as ours, Bradley Talmadge heads up a top secret time travel program known as BackStep. In Frank's as well as ours, the respective players – myself, John, Olga, Ramsey, Donovan – are all in place."
"Would those elements automatically presuppose that our timelines could converge?" Talmadge tried.
"Bradley, anything is possible in this great big universe of ours," Mentnor conceded, "but I don't think that's what we're presently experiencing." He lowered his hands. "What I believe – and, of course, this is predicated on only a very limited understanding of what's gone on since my departure from the program – is that in Frank's timeline and in our own there are two events of such extraordinary temporal significance that our histories are uniquely linked by those events. One event – whatever it was – lies in our collective past. It serves as the catalyst, setting us on course for a true parallel existence. It's placed our two timelines at one end of the parallelogram. The other event – whatever it may be – has yet to happen, but ... but, Bradley, if you'll allow me a moment or two to explore a theory, I might be able to prove conclusively that this 'Frank Parker,' despite the dangers you and I know of crossing over into alternate realities, is meant to be here to help rectify the other end of the parallelogram."
Talmadge grimaced. "Of all you've said, Isaac, I certainly hope you're right about that."
Parker stood, staring at the two men, wondering what monumental event could possibly have brought the three of them – residents of differing versions of time and space – into destined contact with one another. Some of what Isaac had said made perfect sense: similar timelines being drawn to one another, acts of fates being linked across the spectrum of time travel, and the weight one person – or one event – can have on hundreds, thousands, and millions of lifetimes ... but what was it?
"Frank," the man began, "tell me what happened – in your universe – of September 11, 2001?"
End of Chapter 23
Six Days, Seven Hours, Thirty-One Minutes
"I don't believe it," Mentnor muttered, barely audible, as he approached the wall of glass. He stared into the containment room, studying the smiling face of the man beyond his reach. "I'm seeing it with my own two eyes, but, sure as I can feel the ground beneath my feet, I know that this is virtually impossible."
"Yeah, I seem to be getting an awful lot of that today, Isaac!" Parker cried, laughing, pressing himself up against the cold glass. "If it's all the same to you, however, I'll be the first to say that it's awfully good to see your face."
"Well," the scientist began, arching an eyebrow, "I did say that your being here was only 'virtually' impossible, Frank." He grew silent, quietly studying the other man's features, glancing into the chrononaut's deep, dark eyes. "Ever since I began my tenure with BackStep, I've had to constantly rethink the definition of what is and what is not even remotely 'possible.'" Cautiously, he placed his fingertips to the glass. Parker did the same, mirroring their two hands in a gesture of friendship. "Then again, Frank Parker pushed even that definition beyond the limits of what I ever thought was capable."
"Then you know that it's me?"
Slowly, the white-haired man nodded. "Trust me," he replied. "Knowing you the way that I do, I know that there is no possible way it could be anyone else."
"Do you see, Bradley? Do you see? I told you that Isaac would know it was me!"
The director stepped up to where the two men were locked in conversation. "There was never a doubt in my mind that Isaac would conclude otherwise, Frank."
"Then you have to let me out of here!"
"Take it easy."
"Absolutely not!" Mentnor suddenly barked. "As much as it pains me to say so, I'm afraid that there's only one place you're going, Frank, and that's back in that damned Sphere. As soon as we can get your craft fueled, you'll be BackStepping out of here!"
Taken aback, Parker moved away from the wall.
"Isaac?" he asked. "What? What is it? What's wrong?"
Glaring at Talmadge, the scientist demanded, "Did you tell him?"
"No, I haven't."
"Told me what?" Parker demanded.
"You have to tell him."
"I was waiting for you to get here."
"Tell me what?" the chrononaut pressed. "You guys! Stop talking about me as if I'm not here! I'm standing in front of you! Tell me whatever it is the hell you need to tell me, and then let me out of this cage so I can complete my mission!"
Mentnor pivoted, fixing his eyes on the captured younger man. "Frank, I want you to listen to me. Bradley should have already told you this, but I guess he's leaving the Devil's work to me!"
"Now," Talmadge interrupted, "wait just a minute, Isaac ..."
Ignoring the director's protests, the man continued: "Frank, the fabric of the universe is a far more fragile tapestry than any of us associated to Project BackStep ever conceived. I didn't see it. Ballard didn't see it. Of course, the pencil-pushers at the NSA never suspected it. Even Bradley didn't see it ... not that it was ever his job to look. That's what he had John and me for, but, near the end, John and I disagreed over the mathematical probabilities of parallel universes, quantum physics, and the extraordinarily unique relationship between time and space."
"Whoa!" Parker threw up his hands. "Cool the science, Isaac. I'm the guy on the horse. Granted, it's a Triple Crown winner no one on the planet ever dreamed of, but I'm still just the jockey."
"That's what we thought, Frank," Mentnor explained, taking his hand away from the wall as he started to pace in front of the younger man. "That's what all of us thought ... from the very beginning. But that's the kind of thinking that should have long ago killed this program! Everyone involved with it should have been re-assigned to other classified projects ... or, better yet, all of us should've been directed to find a way to avert the use of such technology given the potential threat it posed to mankind."
"Threat?" Parker asked. "Isaac? What are you talking about?" Pointing at the director, he tried, "Bradley said it himself a little while ago. He told me that I couldn't begin to imagine the number of lives traveling through time has affected, but you're talking like I'm the AntiChrist!"
"Even that would be a favorable alternative!"
Abruptly, Talmadge slapped his hand against the glass. "Dammit, Isaac! That's enough!"
"I'm just getting started!"
"No, you're not!" Talmadge countered. "If you think that I brought you here so that you personally lecture me about my responsibility to maintaining some kind of temporal directive, then you're sorely misguided and sadly mistaken. You and I have had that debate too many times. If you'd like, then we can have again ... when it's far more convenient! Right now, I need your expertise in temporal theory, and, if you can forgive the irony, I need it fast." Gesturing at the containment wall, he pressed, "As you can see, the man behind that glass is Frank Parker. Is he the Frank Parker born and bred in our universe? No, he's not. Frank already understands that. That much, I've made perfectly clear. As to the fate of our chrononaut, I'll leave that to you to decide if it's vital information to this situation. But, as far as I'm concerned, now isn't the time." Talmadge walked over to where the scientist stood. "In my opinion, what he needs ... what I need ... is to understand exactly why he's here and how to get him back." Calming, the director sighed heavily. "Please, Isaac. John's gone. That leaves just you. You're the only one who can possibly make any sense of ... of this."
Exhausted, Parker cried, "Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?"
Slowly, Mentnor approached the chamber wall. He noticed the chair – the one Bradley had used earlier – and sat in it.
"Frank, you do understand that you've entered a parallel universe?"
"Isaac, nothing else would account for these warm greetings, yours included."
Ignoring the younger man's cynicism, Mentnor tried, "And you've been to one before?"
"Like I told Bradley, I've been to them more times than I care to revisit," he answered. "All I want to know is how to get back home. I've a mission to complete, and, apparently, I'm not going to get much cooperation here."
Calculatingly, Mentnor held up his two hands. Using his forefingers and thumbs, he made an oblong box for the chrononaut to see. "In the fabric of time and space, John and I grew certain of one constant: two timelines were never to meet. Still, we invented a term for just such a theoretical phenomenon. We called the event a 'parallel convergence.' What it means is simple: two timelines – two Earths with histories of extraordinarily similar events – would chronologically become a threat to one another."
"How so?" Parker asked.
Suddenly, the scientist collapsed the rectangle he had made from his hands. "Annihilation. See, Frank, two timelines with histories so similar to one another would be like two weights lying in the same cosmic blanket. Eventually, as the timelines grew even more and more similar, the weights would roll closer together. As events took place, these weights would become indistinguishable from one another. They'd merge for the sake of temporal supremacy. You've heard the saying that two heads are better than one? Well, think of this as the precise opposite. One world – in the fabric of time – was better than two. After all, two timelines that eventually grew identical would rule out the need for both worlds to exist. One universe would be the result. John – well, that is to say the John Ballard of our universe – always liked to call Time a predator that fed upon itself. Hungry with an insatiable appetite, Time wouldn't allow two universes so similar in people, places, and events to exist simultaneously. So, Time would mend the fabric, feed on itself, and force these two timelines to converge."
"But," Parker tried, attempting to put the pieces of the cosmic puzzle together on his own, "what about those differences between the two timelines? I mean ... we're talking about whole worlds here, Isaac. I'm not a rocket scientist, but even I know that, mathematically, there's no way the two timelines could be completely identical?"
Mentnor smiled, but he didn't reveal any happy sentiments. Parker had seen it before. It was a smile reserved for funerals.
"That's a very wise observation, Frank, one I had many times in my debates with John." Suddenly, his face lost all expression. "In theory, whichever timeline won would wreck havoc with disparate elements of the other world."
"Wreck havoc?" Parker thought about the possibility for a long moment. "You mean ... Isaac, do you mean there would be massive deaths? People who existed in one timeline but not the other ... they'd have to be ... they'd have to be eliminated?"
"Yes," Mentnor agreed. "Plagues. Famines. Floods. Even mass suicide. Whatever it took, Time would see those elements not belonging in the converged world were wiped clean, eradicated from existence itself." He raised an eyebrow. "Biblical, I suppose you could say. Ballard and I often argued about what the possible religious implications could be to such a theory as parallel convergence, but conceptualizing the miraculous, the divine was never one of our collective specialties."
"And this is what you think has happened, Isaac?" Talmadge asked.
After a pause, the white haired man shook his head. "No," he answered simply. "As I said, this was all theory. This was rhetorical debate between two scientists pushing one another to reach solutions that challenged perception. Even with the Sphere, we had practical means of proving the possibility of parallel convergence, not that we'd ever want to. However, based upon our shared understanding of temporal mechanics, we still believed convergence was a very likely possibility." Then, he held up his rectangle again for both of them to see. "What I think has happened here is that Frank is from an alternate reality – an alternate timeline – and I do believe that our mutual histories – the people and events – are very similar. There are enough events that have occurred, are occurring, or will occur to allow for the two timelines to retain their unique individuality ... except for this." The man separated his hands, and he held up his forefingers.
"Your fingers?" Parker asked.
Mentnor smiled. "I have missed your sense of humor, Frank."
"It was always my gift with the ladies."
"A parallelogram," the scientist explained. "Our timelines are similar. I would risk a guess that they are very similar. In Frank's as well as ours, he was the first successful chrononaut. In Frank's as well as ours, Bradley Talmadge heads up a top secret time travel program known as BackStep. In Frank's as well as ours, the respective players – myself, John, Olga, Ramsey, Donovan – are all in place."
"Would those elements automatically presuppose that our timelines could converge?" Talmadge tried.
"Bradley, anything is possible in this great big universe of ours," Mentnor conceded, "but I don't think that's what we're presently experiencing." He lowered his hands. "What I believe – and, of course, this is predicated on only a very limited understanding of what's gone on since my departure from the program – is that in Frank's timeline and in our own there are two events of such extraordinary temporal significance that our histories are uniquely linked by those events. One event – whatever it was – lies in our collective past. It serves as the catalyst, setting us on course for a true parallel existence. It's placed our two timelines at one end of the parallelogram. The other event – whatever it may be – has yet to happen, but ... but, Bradley, if you'll allow me a moment or two to explore a theory, I might be able to prove conclusively that this 'Frank Parker,' despite the dangers you and I know of crossing over into alternate realities, is meant to be here to help rectify the other end of the parallelogram."
Talmadge grimaced. "Of all you've said, Isaac, I certainly hope you're right about that."
Parker stood, staring at the two men, wondering what monumental event could possibly have brought the three of them – residents of differing versions of time and space – into destined contact with one another. Some of what Isaac had said made perfect sense: similar timelines being drawn to one another, acts of fates being linked across the spectrum of time travel, and the weight one person – or one event – can have on hundreds, thousands, and millions of lifetimes ... but what was it?
"Frank," the man began, "tell me what happened – in your universe – of September 11, 2001?"
End of Chapter 23