Chapter 7

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When the last round of laughter had died down, Garth turned to Bogg and Jeff once more. "I take it I don't need to remind you to keep to yourselves the things you've learned today."

"What do I say if somebody wants to know what happened?" Jeffrey asked.

"You can tell them that the assignment involved the Founder, but no more than that. No one will press you for details; if anyone does, make sure you report it at once." At Jeffrey's nod, he smiled and said, "If there's nothing else, then, I think we're through here." So saying, he took his leave, and Will followed him out of the room as Carrie retrieved the Omni and Guidebook from Jeffrey.

"That was quite an accomplishment for anybody, never mind a kid; don't you think we should acknowledge it somehow?" Will said.

"Under any other circumstances, I would, but I'm not so sure it's a good idea, given the classified nature of the thing," Garth replied.

"Come on. Everyone knows that the Founder's research and the resultant technology fit into the overall scheme, even if only a handful of us know exactly how, or who he actually is," Will pointed out. "Miller probably kept half an eye on the assignment after he found Jeff for us, and you know he's going to tell the rest of his staff. Word's going to spread from there, and when it does…" He trailed off with a suggestive shrug.

People were going to want to meet the boy who had aced the final exam many of them had sweat bullets over, Garth knew, but that sort of attention could swell the heads of even the ones who didn't seem to know what an ego was.

Seeing the Chief Elder beginning to waver, Will added, "He's only twelve, Professor; a kid that age can only carry the 'unsung hero' bit so far. Even most adults have trouble with it after a while."

Garth pondered that for a long moment; there was indisputable truth in the physicist's words. Voyagers like Isaac Wolfstein, who had remained in the field until he was old enough to retire, were actually a rarity; most lasted only eight to ten years before either taking up a second career at Headquarters or resigning altogether. Jeffrey would already have half that time under his belt before he even started at the Academy. He supposed that, in this case, allowing the recognition might even be prudent. "I suppose there's no harm in it," he conceded at last. "Go ahead and have your party. In fact," he went on, the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes now, "they both know our most carefully guarded secret, so there's no reason they shouldn't be allowed to see the rest of it. Let them see Core Control."

With a wicked grin, Will tossed the old professor a casual salute and went back inside. "Party tonight, guys," he informed the pair. "Meet me at the TE reception desk at shift-change."

"Will isn't throwing that party for me, is he?" Jeffrey asked as they headed back to their apartment. "Just for doing what a Voyager's supposed to do?"

Bogg snorted. "Will likes parties, and he'll throw one for the least little reason, or even none at all. But, to be honest, I think we do have something to celebrate this time."

"You mean because it was the Founder I got back on track?"

"Because we got you back safe."

Something in Bogg's voice caught his attention. "What do you mean?"

"They lost track of you for a while."

"When my Omni blanked out?"

"No; before that. Jeff, somebody switched Omnis on you, and deleted your Locator file. When you first Omni'ed out, they couldn't find you. The only reason they finally did was because somebody in main Mission Control had an Omni show up on his monitor without a Locator code attached."

"So what happened to the Omni I was supposed to have?"

"They don't know. Professor Franklin says it completely vanished from the system just after you left. None of us were too concerned at first; we didn't know yet that you were actually in the time stream."

Jeffrey cast puzzled eyes at him. "Where else would I be?"

"Well, since your final's been waived, I can tell you exactly what your dare was: You were supposed to be taking a crack at the final exam."

"What?!" His jaw dropped open.

Grinning, Bogg chucked him under the chin, which had the completely intended result of shutting his mouth with a click of teeth. "You heard me. Y'see, I couldn't tell you before, because part of the exam is that you don't know you're in a holochamber; you think it's the real thing."

"Holochamber? You mean like the holodecks on those Star Trek episodes Will showed us?"

"Exactly like them. They're really pretty…awesome." He had to fish for a moment to recall one of Jeffrey's superlatives, and then suddenly had a small taste of what his own approval must mean to the kid when Jeffrey grinned at him, pleased. "It's all so realistic, you can't tell it's a hologram," he added.

"You said I was supposed to—"

"Will checked the serial number of the Omni you actually had, after Mission Control told him what it was, and found you had a field Omni instead of a school Omni," Bogg interrupted, knowing what the boy was asking.

"So how come they didn't pull me back when they found out it was for real?"

"Because I told them not to."

"You mean you weren't worried when you found out all their plans had just gone out the window?"

"Sure I was worried; I was scared out of my wits. But remember what Professor Franklin told you about their 'pet event'?"

"She said it was one of the few times they knew ahead of time that history was about to get sidetracked."

"Yeah, and Will told Professor Garth that your assignment was probably related to that. Once I heard that, there was no way I could tell them to abort your mission; I had a very strong feeling it was one of those things you were supposed to do. Besides, I know what you can do; I've seen you in action. I figured you deserved a chance to show everybody else, too. And if it got out of control, we could still either yank you back or send help."

"They have any idea who switched Omnis on me?"

"Not the first hint. I imagine the Council Aides' investigators are going to be very busy after this."

The atmosphere in Mission Control was nothing short of celebratory when Tony arrived after school. Though the intense concentration the job required precluded conversation among the technicians, the overall mood was evident in their very bearing. It soured his own mood; the only possible reason for such high spirits among people who, by their own admission, had become jaded by their work, had to be that the kid had not only gotten through it in one piece, but had pulled off something truly spectacular in the process. He might have known.

Ray found the same general air at the reception desk. His supervisor, a man who generally presented a dour face to the world, was actually whistling today, and he cheerfully filled Ray in on the few details he knew, leaving the youth wickedly gleeful, but deeply worried at the same time. Tony would absolutely spit when he learned what Jeffrey had done, and it served him right. On the other hand, Ray was more certain than ever that Tony had a couple of screws loose. He'd stolen an Omni and made Ray delete Jeffrey's Locator code, resulting in what must have been a few tense moments when they'd lost track of him; there was no telling what else he might try between now and the time the Boggs returned to the field. His scheme had backfired this time, but the next one might not, and Ray had no intention of getting caught in the backlash. It was time to make a clean breast of it.

He was still trying to work up the nerve to do just that when the object of Tony's ire arrived with his adoptive father, looking for Professor Parker. The younger boy seemed to be genuinely interested in the life of a page as he conversed with Ray while they waited, with Phineas occasionally throwing in his own amiable two cents' worth. Then Professor Parker arrived with three others, and the quartet very ceremoniously blindfolded the two field workers before leading them through the inner door. The sounds of laughter drifted behind them until the door closed, cutting off the sound.

When Ray had seen the broadcast of the trial, the heartbreak had been clear on both their faces at the prospect of being separated. It was a feeling he knew too well, one with which every junior recruit was far too familiar. It was bad enough knowing you could never see your family again, but then there was the horrible guilt at knowing they were mourning your death while here you were, alive and well and having the time of your life. In that way, he realized for the first time, Jeff was no different from the rest of them. It hardened his resolve, and, bracing himself, he approached his supervisor's desk. "I think I know who switched the Omnis," he said in a rush.

"What's with the blindfolds?" Jeffrey wondered. "It's not like we'd recognize anything in here."

"It's Will's idea of fun," Bogg replied, grinning, though the kid couldn't see it. "Humor him, willya?"

They were stopped and spun around again, befuddling any sense of direction they might have had left after the first few times. Then there was a long elevator ride, and finally the arrival into what felt and sounded like a cavernous space. "Gentlemen, welcome to the Core," Will announced as their blindfolds were removed.

"Wow, it's huge!" Jeffrey gasped as he gawked at the gargantuan tunnel that extended farther than the eye could see, its ceiling vanishing in the darkness above the suspended lights. The walls were lined with bank upon bank of—the term "supercomputer" didn't even come close to describing the behemoths; megaliths, or even the Easter Island statues, would have been little more than specks against the mammoth servers.

Will opened a door that was barely visible in the wall between two of them. "And this is the Control Room," he said as they went inside.

"You mean this," Bogg indicated the mainframe that took up most of the room, "controls all that out there?"

"Calling this a control room is a bit of a misnomer, a holdover from PQL," Will explained. "Ziggy here is more of an interface now than a controller."

"This thing has a name?" Bogg asked skeptically.

"I am not a 'thing,'" a sultry feminine voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, actually sounding more than a little insulted. "I am a fully sentient hybrid computer, capable of learning and of making decisions without human guidance."

"Ziggy?!" Jeffrey blurted, instantly recognizing the name. "You mean…"

Will chuckled at his amazed look. "That's why I brought you down here," he said. "This is basically the same computer you saw in 1995, upgraded and expanded many, many times since she was brought here. Ziggy, say hello to Jeffrey Jones Bogg."

"Hello, Jeffrey," came the voice again; this time both Jeff and Phineas could have sworn they heard a smile in it. "It has been a very long time. Dr. Parker, may I show him the slideshow?"

"Not yet, Zig. When it's time, I'll pull it up from someplace upstairs; I doubt the brass would appreciate us bringing him down here a second time."

Jeffrey thought he had heard mischief in the computer-generated voice this time and asked Will, "Does it…I mean, she," he corrected himself, feeling a little silly, "…feel emotions like us?"

"I'll let her tell you herself. Zig?"

"I can't say if my emotions are like yours, as I have no way of knowing how they feel to you, but I do experience them. And while we're on the subject," the hybrid computer went on, "I must thank you, Jeffrey. You have provided me with my first experience of the phenomenon humans call 'déjà vu.'"

"I bet," Jeffrey grinned. Then, spotting the door through which he had watched Sam vanish, he asked, "Is the accelerator still in there?"

"No; that section houses the Leapgate now," Will told him. He pressed a button on his remote, and another door slid upward to reveal a tiny cubicle beyond, little more than a booth. "This is the old imaging chamber. It was how the Observer was able to contact the Founder across time; its technology is very similar to what makes the Locator system and the Omni's translator function work. I suspect the design for it came from that." He indicated the featureless blue orb that was suspended from the ceiling, exactly as Jeffrey remembered seeing it at PQL.

"What is that thing, anyway?" he wanted to know.

"It's really kind of hard to explain," Will told him. "I think it's kind of a cross between a processor and data storage, and I suspect even that misses the mark."

"You mean you don't know?" Bogg asked.

"That wasn't something the Founder built. They told me at the Project that it was found in the Mojave Desert; something called the Starbright Project was put together to analyze it. They were never able to figure it out, either, though the general consensus was that it was some sort of alien artifact.1 I understand the Founder insisted it was guiding him at times when he had problems in designing the whole setup. Al thought he was just feeling the effects of adrenaline from seeing his ideas take on physical reality, but now I think the Founder may have been right. Y'see, the Orb was an alien artifact. When the inventors of the Omni were trying to figure out a way to transmit power to it, they decided they needed a little outside help, so they sent a bunch of these things out; this one landed on Earth in the Founder's time."

"You mean you actually worked at Project Quantum Leap?" Jeffrey demanded excitedly. "You knew Dr. Beckett?"

"First of all, never say that name again, not even to me," Will said, his voice gentle to soften the rebuke. "Try not to even think his name anymore; that way you're less likely to slip up and say it to anyone else."

Bogg snorted. "This from the guy who says 'Sam' to keep from blaspheming," he teased.

"Did you have any idea before today that I was actually referring to a particular person, Mister Bat's Breath?" Will shot back with a grin, then went on, "To answer your question, Jeff, yes, I did work at the Project, but I never met the Founder. They'd lost track of him at least ten to twelve years before I came on board; someone else was the lead physicist after that. Then, when they reactivated the draft in 2013, they lost a bunch of their personnel in a single week, and I got introduced to Al shortly afterward…"

Alamogordo, New Mexico; October 25, 2013

Toilet paper—used toilet paper—was worth more than his degree right now. It was a miracle he even had the thing. When he'd told his advisor the proposed topic of his dissertation, the man had nearly laughed him out of his office, until he'd mentioned the name of the documented genius who had published work on the same topic over twenty years earlier. Why was it, he'd wondered, that the moment you took time travel out of the realm of theory and started talking about actually doing it, people looked at you like you were nuts?

After he'd been awarded his doctorate, he'd spent a year seeking funding for further research, a fruitless quest which had plastered his picture all over professional and lay publications alike, accompanied by scathing commentary labeling his single-minded persistence "foolish," "obsessive," "insane," and everything in between. The pursuit of the most recent lead had exhausted the last of his funds and left him stranded here, working in a diner to keep a roof over his head.

One last customer remained, having come in a mere fifteen minutes before closing time. Will Parker and Calvin van Tiel, the only other person on duty at this hour, were beginning final cleanup as the customer finished his meal; Will let him out when he was done, and returned to find Cal setting coffee and the last two pieces of cake on the counter. He perched on a stool and gazed unseeing at his "coffee-and." "How did I get here, Cal?" he asked wearily.

Cal snorted; in an attempt to inject a little levity into his co-worker's mood, he quipped, "If you don't know that by now, I'm sure as hell not going to explain it to you."

It worked to some extent, bringing a short-lived, wan grin to Will's face. "Seriously, Cal," he went on then, "what am I doing here? I'm a quantum physicist, for chrissake, and look at me, flipping burgers for twelve bucks an hour. I'm stuck, Cal. Out of money, out of options, and out of hope."

"It's not as bad as you think, Will."

"Isn't it? I've been dreaming of making time travel a reality since I was in junior high, but it's been one brick wall after another ever since I got my doctorate."

"I can't say I understand why," Cal said. "I mean, time travel's been all over the 'Net since they built that black-hole generator in Sweden—or was it Switzerland?—a few years ago."

Will chuckled. "You're talking about the Large Hadron Collider near Geneva. First of all, it's not a 'black-hole generator;' that's pure fear-mongering. To put it simply—maybe too simply—it's just another particle accelerator. It happens to be the largest, most powerful one in the world, but it's still just a particle accelerator. Secondly, its purpose never had anything to do with time travel; that's media speculation. Happens every time physicists come up with something new or different, going all the way back to Einstein. No; its primary purpose was simply to prove the existence of a theoretical subatomic particle called a hadron—which it did, two years ago."

"So you're saying nobody's actually studying the possibility of time travel?"

"That's not what I'm saying at all. There's a lot of theoretical research going on, but the key word here is 'theoretical.' As long as you stay within that realm, nobody's got any problems with it. Start talking about actually trying it, though, and everybody runs screaming in the other direction, ever since Sam Beckett disappeared."

"Yeah, I remember that. They had to shut down his last research project because there wasn't anybody else qualified to take it on. Did they ever find out what happened to him?"

"Don't know; nothing more was ever reported by the media. But then, the Powers that Be aren't exactly tripping over themselves to tell us what his last project was, either, except to say he was working for the government, so it was probably something classified."

"So just how did you end up working here? With your credentials, you should've been able to score a position at any research facility in the world."

"Not when your dissertation has a title like Practical Time Travel, and you've been ridiculed in everything from the most prestigious professional periodicals all the way down to Popular Science. Nobody nibbled at the CV I posted online, so I decided to try the old-fashioned approach. Last couple of places I tried, I couldn't even get past the receptionist."

"Well, I'll tell you something a friend of mine once said: The Man Upstairs doesn't give you a call that strong just to slam the door in your face. When it's time, opportunity won't just knock; it'll kick your damn' door in." He rose and collected the now-empty cups and plates. "So tell me, if you really could go back in time, what would you change?"

October 27, 2013

Will's eyes tried to cross, and he had to look away from the customer who had just walked in. The man was wearing screaming green trousers and a purple paisley shirt, the pants held up by a pair of rainbow suspenders. "What's with that guy?" he murmured to Cal. "He colorblind or something? He makes psychedelic look tame."

Cal grinned. "Nah; he just likes wild colors. I hear he drives his wife nuts." He went over. "'Morning, Al. Your usual?"

"Yeah. Throw in a chunk of that lemon meringue pie while you're at it."

"You got it." As he filled a cup, he asked, "Been a while; how's Beth?"

"The woman's got the patience of a saint; how she's put up with me all these years, I'll never know," Al grinned.

"Work still keeping you out 'til all hours?"

"And then some. The draft's been playing hob with my personnel roster. I just lost my third office manager in as many weeks, and…well, you wouldn't happen to know a quantum physicist or two, would you?"

Cal grinned. "Actually, I may be able to help you out there. Seems there's this new-minted PhD who can't find funding for his own research, or even a job anywhere in his field, and had to quit looking when he ran out of money."

"He any good?"

"I couldn't tell you; I'm no scientist. I'm all 'pie are round, cornbread are square.'"

Al laughed at the old joke. "So put me in touch with this guy, and I'll see what he's got."

"You're in luck; he's here." He turned and looked over his shoulder. "Hey, Will, come talk to this guy before he kicks your door in."

The slight emphasis did not go unnoticed; Will hurried to finish what he was doing. When he went over, Cal made the introductions and left, and Al invited him to sit. "Will Parker, huh? The Practical Time Travel Will Parker?"

He gave a mental sigh. Here it came again. "How I ever managed to defend that successfully, I'll never know. I guess it's because the basic foundation was Dr. Sam Beckett's work; the name of 'the next Einstein' is still pretty much gold in academic circles."

Al raised his eyebrows. "Not much of his work in that area was ever released," he said cautiously.

"So he did more than he actually published?"

"You could say that." He scrawled an e-mail address on a napkin. "Send me your CV and a copy of your dissertation; I'll have a look at 'em and get back with you."

With a grin that threatened to split his face wide open, Will pocketed the napkin. "I'll do that as soon as I get home. Thank you, Admiral."

"I may turn out to be the one thanking you," Al told him as they shook hands.

November 5, 2013

Will stretched luxuriously when he awakened, his mood the best it had been in months. Not only was it his day off, but it was also the day he should be hearing from Admiral Calavicci. He was in the middle of breakfast when the call came; an hour later, he was at the facility filling out forms and watching a video recording giving a brief history and overview of Project Quantum Leap. When he had jumped through the last hoop, he was escorted to the Admiral's office.

Once there, it was easy to see why he was still referred to by his military rank despite having been retired for several years now. The certificates and plaques on the wall bespoke an illustrious career that had even included a stint with the Apollo 8 command crew. It was still hard to look at the man, however; today's outfit was even more outlandish than the last one Will had seen him wearing.

The man shifted a fat cigar to one side of his mouth. "Good morning, Dr. Parker. I see you made it through inprocessing in one piece."

"I'm still in shock," Will admitted. "It's hard to believe the government actually funded something like this."

"Yeah, well, that's one headache I'm glad to be rid of. When we lost track of Sam, we had to hustle to get alternate funding in place before the committee found out he was gone and shut us down."

"That's the part I don't understand," Will said. "I can understand not wanting to abandon Dr. Beckett, but what makes it so critical to keep this thing going? Most people would have given up years ago and written him off for dead."

"For all anyone outside this project knows, he probably is," Al said, his voice tinged with sadness now. "We happen to know for a fact that he's not. We even have an idea where he is, in a general sort of way, but we can't bring him back; there's every indication he's not supposed to come back."

"How do you figure that?"

"Bring your chair around and I'll show you." Angling his computer screen so Will could see it, Al opened a slide presentation. "It all started with this kid…"

"Talk about coming full circle," Bogg remarked.

"I wonder if Dr….I mean, the Founder, ever guessed just what he made possible," Jeffrey added.

Will smiled, but said nothing.

1 This premise is borrowed from the fanfiction series, "The Starbright Project" at quantumleap (dash) .