Chapter 3:
The Good Book
The Machine took a lot of power to run, and the lights dimmed every time it was turned on.
Williams glanced up at the dimmed lights and grimaced, hoping that no one else would notice.
There was little chance that anyone else would be working this late at night, but with scientists, one never knew.
The lights resumed their normal glow, and he turned his attention to the massive control panel before him.
Half a dozen display screens overflowing with numbers and codes spoke of what was happening inside the chamber and in the support equipment around it.
Two keyboards plus assorted other input devices allowed him to give orders to the most highly advanced electronic device ever built by man.
His eyes tracked the main power gauge as its red line slowly crept towards the right end of the scale.
When it stabilized at 100%, he touched a few keys to initiate the probe imaging.
The largest screen flickered, the numbers disappeared and a picture took their place.
The picture was blurry, out of focus, but seemed to show the inside of a room with a small slit window allowing a shaft of sunlight in to fall upon a table.
As the computer subtly nudged the fine settings, the image became more focused until one could see the texture of the stone walls behind the desk, the tiny motes of dust in the sunbeam, and the leather-bound book sitting on the rough wooden table. The brown cover was detailed with gold leaf inlay along the edges and across the spine where the words “
Biblia Sacra
” could be read, also in gold.
Glancing up at a second screen, he nodded to himself.
The time and location were right on: March 1454, Mazarin, Germany.
Using twin knobs with extreme delicacy and care, he placed a red square around the book. A few typed-in commands and the view of the book rotated until the sides of the pages were visible.
Again he positioned a red square of lines on the screen.
With the book properly defined, he typed some more and the red lines began blinking.
He was smiling as he punched the final ENTER key.
The low background hum increased as the Machine began operation.
Most cruelly it twisted the fabric of time-space, digging a tunnel through it, linking that book with the empty platform in the chamber.
Subatomic particles called quarks were forced into entanglement at either end of that tunnel; billions then trillions, and then far greater numbers of quarks, the building blocks of matter, were linked in a strange manner that defied the laws and logic of physics.
Incredibly thin beams of photons focused on the center of the platform.
Slowly, molecule by molecule, a copy of the book was being built from the bottom cover upward.
Each page appeared magically from nothing, the black text and red highlighting becoming visible for just a moment before the next page overlaid it.
The intertwining vines and red flowers used to enliven the text seemed to be growing around the pages.
Eleven minutes later, the Machine ceased weaving the book from nothing and reduced to its background hum.
Immediately, the man shut it down.
The room became suddenly silent, making his footsteps loud on the metal floor.
Swinging open the chamber door, he stepped in and bent to pick up the book.
Fighting the urge to stroke its soft leather cover and admire its gold decorations, he closed the chamber door.
The book he placed on a cart, along with a squat clay bowl decorated with black and red primitive images of dancing deer and leaping wolves.
Next to those were two other artifacts, a flint spear point and an oval piece of wood with crude symbols carved on the surface, looking almost more like scratching than a language.
The other items were enclosed within glass boxes with sealed lids.
But the book he simply covered with a towel.
Leaving the large room where the Machine was housed, he took an elevator up to the office level where he deposited the glass boxes on a table.
In the morning, the scientists who had requested those items would pick them up and take them to whatever lab they had, to do whatever it is they did to them.
Williams really did not know or care.
His job was simply to take the list he was given, search for, find and duplicate those items.
His last stop was the small office he shared with the other operator who ran the Machine during the daylight hours.
Looking around to make sure that no one was present, even though that was highly unlikely, he took the towel off the book and lightly ran his fingers along the spine.
Almost reverently he opened the cover and touched the black letters on the page.
He could not read the Latin, but he knew what it said – more or less.
This was a copy of the Bible.
But not just any copy.
This was a very special copy.
This was a Gutenberg Bible, the first major book ever printed.
In 1454, Johann Gutenberg used moveable type on his invention, the printing press, and changed the world.
No longer did books have to be painstakingly printed by hand.
The information explosion he had created ushered in a whole new world of technology and innovation the world was still recoiling from.
Williams had done his homework.
A little research on the Internet had told him all he needed to know about this item.
It was historical, very rare and very valuable.
Gutenberg had printed only about one hundred and eighty of the two volume, thirteen hundred page book, of which only forty-two copies were known today, and only twenty-two of those were complete copies.
The last complete Gutenberg Bible to be sold had fetched 2.2 million dollars.
Those were 1978 dollars.
One website estimated that a copy today would be worth between twenty-five and thirty-five million dollars – if one were available.
Virtually all copies were in museums.
Even leaves from that book were expensive, running between twenty thousand and one hundred thousand dollars each, depending on the size and condition.
Almost unable to take his eyes off this prize, he had to force himself to put it in his briefcase.
In a few hours, he would go off shift and take it home.
He would then show it to Daisy – not that she would understand how special it was – and explain to her how he would break it into small sections and sell them individually through an antiquities dealer who asked no questions.
Individually, the leaves would not bring as much in total as a complete copy, but would be much easier to pass.
And it would make him rich.
Flopping down in his chair, Williams let out a big sigh and put his feet up on the desk.
This was one sweet job he had fallen into!
And so easy.
For the first few months he had simply done his job, using the Machine to fetch objects for the research staff.
Then one day, a random comment about how valuable an ugly looking piece of parchment was set him to thinking.
All he had to do to fetch an additional object for himself was to use the Machine a little longer after his regular night’s run to make an extra copy of something valuable.
His first foray into stealing from the past was to make for himself a copy of the Hope Diamond, all 45.52 carats of it.
It was only later that he realized he could not sell a stone that big without attracting too much attention.
But after a while he got to thinking about what other things he could grab that would be worth the risk.
That exact replica of the Hope Diamond was currently sitting atop the dresser in his bedroom next to a watch that needed a fresh battery.
He spent the rest of his shift filling out paperwork and daydreaming about what he would do with all that money.
He and Daisy would travel around the world.
She always said that she wanted to see the Pyramids in Egypt.
Not that he figured they were much to look at; just a pile of stones.
His tastes ran more to expensive cars, good booze and maybe – just maybe – a sharper looking girlfriend.
Yeah, that was it!
He’d have so much money that the gorgeous babes would be crawling all over him.
Daisy was fun in bed but not the best looking dame in the world.
Or the smartest.
He deserved better.
A few hours later, he signed out, walked to the parking lot whistling a happy tune and swinging his briefcase, and then drove away with a very rare book on the seat next to him.
Chapter 4:
Smiley
“Most people who work here stay in the nearest town, White Rock, but a few live in a small apartment building we have on the facility,” Dr. Crane told Tamara.
“Since you’re only going to be here just a few days – I assume that’s right? – staying in the Mountain View would seem the best.
Also, it saves you a drive each day.”
“I’m not sure how long my work will take,” she told him.
“Depends on what I find.”
It was a thinly veiled threat but she had found that being tough with clients worked best.
Let them think you’re weak, and they’ll try to take advantage of you.
“If you want, I’ll take you over there as soon as we’re finished here.”
“That will be fine.”
Looking around the small office she had been led to revealed about what she expected: a desk, side table, and a cabinet and only one guest chair.
At least a small window looked out towards the Jemez Mountains.
And at least the walls and furniture were not the dull gray that seems to be prevalent in most government offices.
These were of wood, and the walls were painted a pleasing shade of light blue.
Immediately she went to the computer terminal sitting on the desk.
With quick, sure motions, she flipped the on switch, and then began typing as soon as the screen showed a response.
“Windows 11.5,” she said, somewhat sarcastically.
“You’re two versions behind.”
“You can log into our Unix system, if you prefer.
Or Linux Mint 14.
Or Omni 2.4.
Whatever you’re most comfortable with.”
“Good.
I’ll assume that I will have an account and password before the day is out.”
“Of course.”
He said that with a straight face, so she could not tell if he was also being sarcastic or not.
The afternoon passed in getting her a permanent visitor’s badge that would give her access to the entire facility, and showing her around.
The latter task was delegated to a secretary, or something much lower than Dr. Crane, who then made his excuses and left Tamara, his promise to personally show her to her apartment apparently forgotten.
The young woman who was now in charge of the auditor was of Latin descent, witnessed by her brown skin, dark eyes and shiny black hair.
“My name is Carla.
I’ll be happy to show you around.”
“That will be acceptable.
Tell me, Carla, are you normally a tour guide?”
“Oh, no.
I’m a programmer.
Spend most of my time cutting C Sharp code.
We don’t really have any tour guides.
Top secret place and all that.”
The woman seemed to be honestly friendly and not at all put off by Tamara’s strict and aloof attitude.
That made Tamara soften a bit.
“My dad used to be programmer,” she told the young woman.
It was always good to make friends.
Might learn something from them.
“He even goes back to the days of COBOL.”
“Gosh, he must be old!”
“As the mountains,” Tamara said with a smile.
“He used to tell me stories about the early days of computing.
He even knew how to use a keypunch.
Nowadays no one even knows what a punched card looks like.
Used to be called IBM cards.”
“I think I heard of them.
From one of the older scientists.”
“Well, you picked up that phrase from someone.
Only the old programmers like my dad used the term ‘cutting code’.
Everyone else would say ‘writing’ code, or programming.”
“Yes, we had an old guy in our department.
Died two years ago.
Very nice guy.
Used to complain about programmers being called software engineers instead of programmers.
Maybe your dad knew him, both being programmers.”
“I doubt it.
Well, let’s begin that tour.
Got a map?”
By the time she had been given a tour of the place it was lunchtime, so they adjourned to the cafeteria.
The tour had been superficial; they entered few of the buildings, but it did give her a sense of the layout.
The cafeteria itself was small but the food was very good, and they had outside tables so Tamara could enjoy the fresh mountain air and view.
“Have you worked here for a long time?” she asked of Carla.
“Since the project moved here from California.
’Bout five years now.”
“You like the work?”
“Yes.
I like working for Chronodyne and I like this area.
Big change from smoggy LA.
Only thing bad is that it’s such a long ways from Disneyland.
I used to drive down there a couple times a month.
I like the place.”
“Happiest place on Earth, Walt used to say.”
“Yeah.
I think so.
I love watching the children looking around with wide eyes and not believing what they’re seeing.
You ever see a little girl run up to Mickey Mouse and give him a big hug?
Priceless!”
“Is the staff here good?”
Tamara was just making talk, but she was also paying attention.
You never knew when casual chats would reveal hidden secrets.
“Yeah.
I like most of the people.
’Course, some of the scientists look down on those of us with only a B.S.
You know, PhD snobbery.
But others are fine.”
Finishing the chicken cordon bleu, Tamara began attacking the apple pie.
“I find Project Dry Wells pretty amazing.
What do you think of it?”
She was probing to see if this low level programmer knew about the time machine.
“Amazing isn’t the word for it.
Incredible!
Impossible!
To actually recreate a...”
Suddenly she cut off.
“Well, you know,” she finished lamely.
Tamara laughed.
“Don’t worry!
I have the highest security clearance, and a definite need to know.”
She pointed to her badge, which gave her clearance for the whole project.
“I’ve already been given a briefing by doctors Stryker and Crane.
I know what kind of time machine you have here.”
Carla looked a little embarrassed but relieved.
“I think it’s fantastic for research.
We only have a small team of scientists other than the physicists, but they’re finding out the most interesting things about the past.
Dr. Brown has found four new species of dinosaurs!
And Dr. Borodin thinks he has located a partial play by Shakespeare that was never published.
Isn’t that wild?”
“That would be interesting,” Tamara agreed, even though it was a lie.
She had read one of his plays and thought it the most boring thing ever.
“Anything really spooky going on here?” she asked.
“Spooky?
Well, there are the spooks!
You know, the CIA guys.
At least, I think they are from the CIA.
They won’t talk about what they’re doing, but every once in a while they come in and take over the Machine.
Lot of guessing going on about that they’re using the Machine for but I doubt anyone knows for sure.
Maybe not even Dr. Stryker.
“And then there’s the secret projects.”
“Secret Projects?
You mean there are parts of this project you don’t know about?”
“Sure.
There’s five of them.
They don’t have any names, but are called Project A, B, C, D, and J.
Real mysterious like.
But everyone pretty much knows that Projects A and B are bringing back extinct animals.”
“What?”
Tamara’s ears picked up.
“You mean they can create living animals from the past?”
“Sure.
About a year ago they began experimenting.
Apparently they had troubles at first and had to redesign parts of the Machine and reprogram a lot also.
A lot of animals didn’t make it or died almost immediately.
But they got it down.
The first really successful test was a cat.
Fluffy it was named.
It was picked up from 1966.
It’s not official, but most people think that it was Dr. Grossman’s pet a number of years ago and he wanted it again.
Well, anyway, he kept the cat and it’s still living with him.
Pretty wild, huh?”
“Yes, pretty wild.”
Her mind was racing with the possibilities that would open, the least of which was resurrecting extinct species.
But why hadn’t they told her about that capability of the Machine?
Were they keeping it secret?
Or did it just not come up?
“Come on, I’ll show you something,” Carla said.
The something was a small pen behind a building not far from the cafeteria.
In it Tamara saw what she first took to be a turkey, but as she got closer it took on a strange look.
It was fatter than most turkeys she had seen in the wild, had large yellow feet, but most strange was the large, hooked beak in green, black and yellow.
The plumage was a brownish-gray.
It stood just over three feet tall and was busy munching on an apple.
“Hi there!” said a voice from the side.
Tamara turned to see a man walking up.
He was late forties, somewhat on the heavy side and sported a bushy gray beard along with overly thick eyebrows.
“I’m Dr. Brown,” he continued as he came up and offered his hand.
“I’d guess that you’re the auditor from DOD.”
“Word certainly gets around fast,” Tamara commented dryly.
“Small place here.
How do you like Arnold?”
“Is that what I think it is?” she asked him.
“Well, if you’re thinking
Raphus Cucullatus
, then you’re right.
Also known as the Dodo.”
“They’re all extinct,” she said.
“He doesn’t seem very dead.”
“In the wild, sure.
The last one died in 1662, only a hundred years after their discovery on the island of Mauritius.
This was our first success at reviving an extinct species.”
“And what is that... that thing over there?”
The thing she was pointing to looked like a small horse or mule, but the front half of the body had white strips like a zebra’s over its brown coat while the back half had none.
It was munching on some hay.
“That is Herman.
He’s a Quagga.
An extinct form of zebra.
Last one died in an Amsterdam zoo in 1883.”
“Quagga and dodos!
Please don’t tell me that you’ve got a yard filled with T-Rexes on the other side of the building,” she said.
“No, all the T-Rexes we had escaped last week.
They’re up in the forest now, hunting anything they can find and terrorizing the natives.”