Kairos – Chapter 3
DISCLAIMER: Most of these characters are not mine at all, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe. The others? Yeah, they're mine J
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Friday Afternoon – April 26, 2013, 4:25 p.m., at a non-descript warehouse in South Brooklyn
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The view of the lower bay separating lower Brooklyn and Staten Island opens up gently outside the large fourth floor wall-to-ceiling window, allowing the full afternoon sunlight to bathe the room in a yellowish-orange tint. It's a beautiful, cloudless day outside, quiet and serene in the distance - which lies in stark opposition to the excited tension that hangs in the air inside the large room. They are inside an enormous, four-story warehouse on the southwestern part of Brooklyn.
Kate Beckett sits at the small coffee table, in the undersized chair provided there. Castle is standing next to the large window, enjoying the view. Javier Esposito and Kevin Ryan stayed behind at the precinct, and neither were too happy about that development. In the end, however, this – whatever 'this' turns out to be – has to be a decision made by Kate.
If there is a decision to be made.
Which they will know shortly, as Kate rises while Castle turns, as both hear the door open. In walks a very amused Dr. Sandra Windholm.
"Dr. Windholm," Castle begins, quickly traversing the space between them to offer his hand, as Kate follows closely behind.
"While I can't say I am surprised, Mr. Castle," she smiles warmly, shaking his hand and then Kate's hand as well. "I have to say that I figured you would at least sleep on what we discussed before reaching back out to me."
"You clearly don't know him very well," Kate remarks amiably. "Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD."
"His muse, I presume," Dr. Windholm smiles, and then notes the quick look of derision on Kate's face. Clearly the woman doesn't appreciate that particular tag.
"There is nothing wrong with being one's inspiration, Detective Beckett," Dr. Windholm continues as she eyes the detective. "Especially when that inspiration leads to such joy for so many. You would be surprised at the results of inspiration here in this building."
"Now you're just giving him an even bigger head," Kate offers with a roll of the eyes. "Castle told me about his conversation with you," Kate continues. "He mentioned that –"
"Castle?" the doctor asks, momentarily confused.
Kate stops for a moment, confused herself.
"Yes, Castle, Richard Castle, the man standing right –"
"I know who Richard Castle is, Detective," the doctor tells her defensively. "I just thought . . . well, I was under the impression that the two of you were . . . together?"
"We are," Kate and Castle both reply together.
"Yet you are on . . . you're on a last name basis?" the doctor asks. The couple exchange glances that are both confused and bemused at the same time. It isn't something they are called on very often, but given the deep intimacy between the two, it is certainly an interesting observation.
"Never mind," Dr. Windholm counters, eager to move on. It is late this afternoon, yes, but she still has a few hours in front of her before she heads home this evening.
"I assume you have more questions, Mr. Castle. How can I help you?"
"I do," Castle replies. "We both do."
"And are these questions steeped in a desire for academic knowledge, or are there more . . . personal motivations at play here?"
"A little of both," Kate replies, interrupting. The doctor simply nods here head, impressed that neither tries to insult her.
"Dr. Windholm," Castle begins, trying to steer the conversation away from their motivations, "Kate found the notion that time travel could be possible to be . . . well, she isn't a believer, let's leave it at that. I'm hoping that you can . . . persuade her otherwise."
The doctor eyes the couple for a moment, trying to decide which motivation is more powerful for the two. Research, which makes sense for a writer who may be considering a more substantive move towards science fiction . . . or something far more personal, which she senses would be the detective's motivation. The one thing that is clear to her is that Richard Castle is very interested in her, and her research. As a privately funded think-tank organization, funding is always important. Yes, the good doctor found Castle's most recent novel entertaining – but she, too, has her own motivations for wanting a relationship with the novelist.
And as she learned over a decade ago – every meeting is an opportunity for fund-raising.
"Where would you like me to start?" she asks the couple, glancing back and forth between both of them.
"Why did you tell Castle that time travel is real?" Kate asks, getting right to the topic.
"Because it is," Dr. Windholm states matter-of-factly. For a few seconds, there is quiet in the room as Kate eyes the doctor, expectantly. When she offers nothing more, Kate responds.
"That's it?" Kate asks. "That's all you have?"
"I have answered your question, Detective," Dr. Windholm explains. "Your . . . friend here is the author, and is therefore, far more verbose. I'm a scientist. If you ask me a yes or no question, you are going to get the appropriate answer – unfiltered and less filling," she jokes. Castle is amused. Kate is not.
"Dr. Windholm," Castle begins, "do you mind explaining why – as you did with me – you hold the position you do." He gives Kate's hand a supportive squeeze. Getting her here was difficult. He doesn't need this to be an antagonistic encounter.
"Certainly," the doctor replies, running a hand through her red locks as she walks toward a white board in the large room. She picks up a blue marker, and draws two circles.
"Circles again," Kate muses under her breath. She gets another hand squeeze, this one a bit more aggressive.
"What we do here at Kronologix," Windholm begins, her eyes focused on Castle, "started with the desire to move one object from one place to another."
Castle's eyes widen, matching Beckett's.
"Teleportation?" Castle asks, now getting more excited about this place. His thoughts take him back to his favorite sci-fi television series and movies.
"Trans-portation is the more accurate term," Dr. Windholm corrects him, chuckling at the frown she draws from the writer. "I mentioned to you that there is no miracle ship, no miracle transport rocket or jet or car. Back to the Future was a great movie, but totally unrealistic. So we have to use real science if we want to accomplish time travel. And it starts with being able to send a person – a person – from one point to another. Not a person in a car, or in a booth, or in a ship of some kind. Just a person."
She draws a series of ones and zeroes between the two circles, as she did with Castle earlier at the bookstore.
"When we first started, all those years ago . . . back in 2004 . . . I had recently completed my Ph. D studies and started this institution here," she tells them, waving to the room around them.
"The first thing we knew we had to figure out was how to send a body through a pinhole," she continues. "We . . ."
She stops in mid-sentence, and walks to the large desk next to the windows. "Excuse me," she tells the couple as she punches a button on the desk phone there. Seconds later, a voice is heard from the other end.
"Yes Doctor Windholm," the voice says. Suddenly, Castle and Kate realize that this large room – that they thought was a conference room, is – in fact – the good doctor's office."
"Joyce, the two non-disclosure agreements that my guests were provided . . . they are signed and notarized, correct?"
"Yes, doctor, per procedure," Joyce tells her.
"Thank you, Joyce," Windholm replies, punching the button to hang the call up. She approaches the couple again who have stood back at the white board.
"Occupational hazard," she says simply. "We are less than a year away from our IPO. You can imagine that there is . . . a great deal of knowledge here that others would pay dearly for."
"I didn't realize you were going public," Castle muses aloud.
"Not the best kept secret, but we've done a decent job," she tells him. "You're not in the industry, so it doesn't surprise me that you didn't know."
Turning to Kate, she points back to the white board, continuing her mini-lecture to the couple.
"As I was saying, the first thing we had to figure out was how to send a human body through the tiniest of openings."
"Sounds painful," Kate remarks, recalling Javier Esposito's comments from earlier this afternoon.
"I'm stuck on the IPO," Castle admits, risking a glare from the doctor. "From what you explained to me, if you can move someone from one point to another – in space or time – then I would think the more lucrative financial opportunity would be in teleportation . . . I'm sorry, in trans-poration. Moving someone from one side of the world to the other, in an instant," he says with emphasis, snapping his fingers.
"Short-term, yes, Mr. Castle," she agrees. "But transporting a person from point A to point B will – someday soon – become a commodity. It may occur in your lifetime, or that of your children, or your children's children. But that is a given. However, long-term, transporting a person from time point A to time point B – well, that's an entirely different journey altogether."
"But –"
"Think about the possibilities, Detective," Windholm says, holding up a finger to interrupt Kate. "Think of all of the historical events that human beings have long wished they could have seen in person. Was there really a city of Atlantis? And if so, what happened? The great San Francisco earthquake. The assassination of JFK. And then things get really serious. Custer's last stand. The volcanic eruption at Krakatoa. The parting of the Red Sea. The destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. The crucifixion of Christ. Events that have been visible to us only in artwork or ancient black and white photographs, as in the case of the San Francisco earthquake. Imagine sending a person back to capture significant unseen events on camera. Now put this video experience in the classroom, in churches, in businesses."
She chuckles as she sees a dual set of jaws drop in front of her, knowing that only now are her guests considering the ramifications.
"The average person says they would like to go back into time to change something crucial in their lifetime," she continues. "An appropriate thought process, for certain. But changing the past is far too dangerous. One simple change – you never know the result of that one stone thrown into the water. Never. The ripples are far too dangerous to deal with."
"So . . . if you are in this to make money," Kate begins, "assuming all of this works in the first place –"
"It does," counters Windholm.
"Assuming it works," Kate continues, undaunted, "then how would you send someone back in time and ensure they don't change anything."
"Any time journey must be for observation purposes only," Windholm explains. "For that reason, we would never send anyone back alone. All journeys must be supervised. Monitored. Those are the rules, the procedures we have implemented."
"You're serious?" Kate exclaims, wondering just how long or far this ruse can go. "You have actually sent someone back in time." The mocking nature of Kate's voice is clear to all three in the room.
"Dr. Windholm," Castle interjects, "I was interested in your institution here after I met you this afternoon, simply for entertainment and altruistic reasons . . . okay more entertainment, I admit. But now that I know you are going public . . . well insider information doesn't allow me to . . ."
"Unless I asked you for money, of course," Windholm interrupts, smiling.
"Are you asking for money," Kate asks.
"Not yet," Castle replies for the doctor, who nods her head appreciatively at the author. Yeah, it was a good move – calculated, yes – but a good move nonetheless to visit the bookstore this morning.
"Are we ready to continue?" Windholm asks. When Castle nods his head, she continues.
"So – as we have said, the first thing we had to figure out was how to send a human body through a very small opening." She points at the board.
"That meant converting a human body to a digital representation," she says, underlining the ones and zeroes. That's the first golden egg here. Understanding how to break down – and rebuild – a human body."
She watches the stunned look on her guests, smiling. She is used to this reaction. Now it's time to drop the other shoe. Castle is already ahead of her.
"And the second golden egg?" he asks.
"Opening and closing a wormhole at specific points on the space-time continuum."
"That's impossible," Castle dismisses.
"No, Mr. Castle," she chuckles. "That is Kronologix. Follow me."
She heads to the elevator in the office, motioning for them to follow her. The only sound heard is the clicking of the doctor's heels on the wooden floor as both Castle and Kate fall in line behind her, taking the left side of the elevator car as the doors close. The elevator car starts moving – downward – and Castle instinctively looks upward as the numbers fly by.
3.
2.
1.
B1
B2
B3
"Wow," Kate exhales, staring at the numbers with Castle. "Who would have thought . . ."
The car continues downward until the number finally stops at B7 before it stops, and the doors open out into a large expansive room.
"So you're telling me we are actually seven floors below street level now?" Castle asks.
"Yes, Mr. Castle," Windholm replies. "We do like our secrets."
"Apparently," he nods in agreement as the doors open. Castle takes one step and then is struck motionless. Dr. Windholm only smiles. She is used to this reaction also.
The room opens out to something the size of two football fields. The walls of the room are the actual rock structures of the earth almost ninety feet below the street surface. The floor appears to be metal in nature, and the artificial lighting is bright. The large structure is bustling with activity, as there appears to be some fifty to sixty people at work down here.
"Okay, I am officially amazed," Kate tells her.
"Something is happening here," Kate thinks to herself. "Just the finances necessary to drill down this deep, and build this structure . . . that's not cheap . . . the money to do this isn't thrown away cheaply."
"This way," Windholm tells them, and as they again fall in line, she begins her pitch in earnest. This has quickly morphed from simply an 'interesting discussion' to a fund-raising opportunity for the CEO.
"The secret, Mr. Castle, Detective Beckett, is understanding that a wormhole is simply a tunnel between two points in space. But we define space as 'space time'. Think of the two circles I drew for you upstairs. Imagine them on a flat plane axis. Circle A is one point in space time while Circle B is another. Circle B occurs after Circle A. They are on the same axis. Now, bend that plane, that axis – remember the piece of paper I gave to you earlier, Mr. Castle?"
"Yes," he replies quickly, patting his back pocket where his wallet is, listening and taking in the mammoth structure.
"Bend that piece of paper, so that the two circles are no longer far apart," Dr. Windholm continues. "Now they are close – almost touching, in fact. A wormhole is the tunnel between those two almost-touching circles. It is very tiny. And it is highly unstable. Our work here creates these wormholes, stabilizes them, deconstructs a traveler, sends him through the wormhole, and then reconstructs them."
"What?" Kate replies, trying to wrap her mind around what she is seeing and hearing. They walk to a large platform that is roughly fifty feet by fifty feet, and raised about four feet high. They walk up four large steps to the platform, still following the doctor.
"The key to what we do is traveling – transporting – through wormholes," Windholm continues as she takes them to a large metal table. "And as I mentioned to you, Mr. Castle, it isn't you that actually goes through. We don't try and squeeze a person through a miniature doorway or anything so visually elegant. The original plan was to take a person, and that person is literally broken down into digital data elements – think about a fax machine – and sent through. Then rebuilt."
"But if what you are saying is true, then –"
"It isn't you, Detective Beckett," Windholm interrupts. "It is a copy of you that is identical in virtually every way."
She quickly turns to Castle, facing the author as she reaches down into a metal basket, pulling out a large, red toy mega block, and puts it on the metal table.
"Now you're an author, Mr. Castle," she continues, now walking to a computer keyboard. "Notice the word I used. 'Virtually'."
"Which means 'nearly' or 'almost'," Castle notes aloud.
"Exactly," the doctor replies while punching in commands. "It is a copy that is almost identical. The imperfections are barely noticeable. But it is a copy. And the more you travel in this fashion . . ."
She lets the statement hang out there before Kate fills in the blanks.
"You are making copies of copies," Kate realizes, nodding her head.
"Very good, Detective," Dr. Windholm concurs. "The first time we sent someone through, we made a copy of him. The second time –"
"You really have sent someone through?"
Dr. Windholm laughs at the simultaneous question from the couple, getting her first real glimpse of the Caskett dynamic that those who know them have come to expect – and anticipate.
"Yes, we have sent a couple of fellow scientists and assistants through," she admits. "Initially, we encountered certain difficulties."
"What kind of difficulties?" Castle asks, the hair on the back of his neck now standing at attention. Yeah, this sounded too good to be true.
"Reconstructing people is an 'almost' process," she repeats. "The imperfections manifested themselves with joint pain, with skeletal imperfections, cancers."
"My God," Kate gasps, putting it together now.
"The scanning process is not flawless," Windholm tells them. "It is probably 99.9 percent accurate. But that one tenth of a percent is a bitch, I have to admit. But suffice to say, those problems sent us back to the drawing board for a brief period of time. We believe we are close to solving that issue. But until then . . ."
"That's why the IPO is a year away," Castle realizes out loud.
The doctor nods her head, then grows silent again, allowing her guest to process this. After half a minute, she sees they are now putting it together. They are just now realizing what she is saying. They are just realizing what she means when she says 'copies'.
"We create a duplicate," she tells them.
"Cloning?" Castle asks, a frown forming on his face.
"No," she replies, noticing his reaction. "We don't refer to it as cloning, because of your reaction right there. Besides, a clone is a recreation of yours, but it does not have your memories. What we do – oh Mr. Castle, it is far beyond cloning. We create a duplicate of you – one that has your memories, your dreams, your aspirations. It is you in every way."
"Except for the imperfections after you have been . . ."
"Reconstructed, Detective," the doctor says, completing Kate's sentence. "The problem remains – each time a person is scanned and deconstructed and reconstructed, we are making a copy. And the scanning process has minute effects on the human body, as I mentioned. But the concern remains, even after we fix this – the concern is that too many scans will cause problems with the host."
"The host?" Castle asks.
"That sounds a little freaky," Beckett adds.
"Science usually is," Dr. Windholm chuckles. "Problems with the original body, which no longer exists."
Seeing the quizzical looks, she picks up the mega block, but then reconsiders. She places the block back onto the table and walks to the copy machine on the platform. Castle suddenly realizes that this entire platform is the demo room, their presentation room for investors. This is where they see the magic actually occur.
The doctor takes piece of paper that has a drawing of a flower on it. She places the paper on the copy machine face, and closes the lid. She hits the START button.
Seconds later, a copy comes out. She shows the original to her guests.
"On the surface, perfect in every way," she tells them. "Here's the second problem."
She takes the copy she has just made, and places it onto the copy machine, face-down, and closes the lid again. She hits the START button again. Seconds later, a second copy comes out. She removes the first copy from the face of the copier, and replaces it with the second copy. Closing the lid, she hits the START button a third time.
"You're making copies of copies," Kate realizes.
"Exactly, Detective," a satisfied Dr. Windholm smiles. "When we send you back that first time, we are deconstructing you. We are making a copy of the original. When you are reconstructed on the other side, it is a copy of you. When you return, you are deconstructed again, and –"
"A copy of the copy of the original returns," Castle says softly, almost a whisper.
"And if you are sent back a second time, for a second trip," Windholm continues, "then it is a copy of the copy of the copy of the original that lands back in time, and a copy of the copy of the copy of the copy of the original that returns."
"That's . . . that's horrible," Kate exclaims. "That's . . . that's . . ."
"That's time travel, Detective Beckett," the doctor says confidently. She walks to the keyboard one more time, entering in parameters.
"Mr. Castle, please pick up that Mega block," she instructs, pointing to the red block on the table. Castle picks it up and handles it, turning it over a few times. He notices what appears to be – for lack of a better term – a black metal bracelet that seems to surround the mega block.
"I just wanted you to feel that it is real," she tells him. "Now, please put the block inside the glass box on the table, and close the lid."
"The glass box is made of a special structure, a special material and coating – another golden egg, if you will," she tells them.
Castle does as requested, placing the red block inside the glass box container, which is roughly two feet by two feet by two feet. Seconds after he closes the lid, Dr. Windholm clicks an icon on the screen, and Castle and Kate hear a slight popping noise. Suddenly the block disappears.
"Neat trick," Castle muses aloud, mesmerized at the thought that he has just watched an object that he had just been handling disappear.
"Not yet," the doctor tells him, smiling, glancing at her watch. "Open the lid and reach inside," she tells the couple.
Kate Beckett does just that. She opens the lid, and reaches down, waving her hand around to make sure that what they have just witnessed isn't some type of illusion at work.
"Nothing here," she offers her companion, her voice shaking and barely above a whisper. She glances back toward the doctor, who is calmly staring at her watch.
"What just –" Castle begins, but he is cut off by a quick raise of Dr. Windholm's hand, who continues staring at her watch.
"Close the lid, Detective. Now, wait for it . . ." she tells the couple as she begins counting it down out loud.
"5, 4, 3, 2, 1 . . ." she says.
At the sound of 'one', a second popping sound is heard, drawing Castle and Kate's attention back to the small box on the table. Without further warning, the mega block reappears in the protected box, as Castle and Kate both take an involuntary step backward.
"Now, to answer your question. That toy block just went back in time, landing at this very spot on April 26, 2009. Four years ago. It then spent exactly five hours sitting in that spot before automatically bringing itself back to a space-time point exactly twenty seconds after it left. Five hours in the past, twenty seconds of present real time."
Castle and Kate stare blankly at the object, and then back to the clearly amused doctor.
"That, my friends, is Kronologix."