Reborn

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The Mindset
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Joined: Sat Apr 24, 2004 10:35 pm
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Name: The Mindset

Reborn

Post by The Mindset »

Snow crunched under Batista’s feet as he slowly made his way towards the Lambda Temporal Research facility proton labs. The weather was not behind him, instead, an icy gale howled across the sterile surface of Barnard IV, blasting him and clawing at his hood. The planet was ideal for the project’s purposes: devoid of life and remote, but Batista couldn’t help thinking that with the budget backing his research, the Black Projects division of the Mindsetti navy could’ve afforded somewhere with a better climate. He cut across the yards of the facility dormitories, and trudged on through the drifts before finally reaching the maintenance entrance.

The facility was the foremost authority on time-related technology in The Mindset. For many decades, secretive research had been granted trillions of credits of funding, and it was only now, seventy two years after joining the research team, that Professor Batista could finally appreciate the results. He wirelessly transmitted his ident code to the facility’s network, and the door clicked open, the metal on metal screech barely audible above the howl of the wind. He knew the security sensors had been tracking his movement and this gave him a shallow sense of comfort – should something disastrous happen on the ice, his colleagues would know exactly where to find him; he grimly added to his thoughts: hopefully not dead. He entered the elevator at the end of a dimly lit corridor and descended forty floors.

He checked his network mailbox and smiled at the progress reports contained therein: things were perfectly on track, and if all went according to plan, they’d be powering up his life’s work in mere hours. His baggy protective trousers were squeezing themselves dry as he departed the elevator, far below the icy chaos above. He was greeted with a bustle of activity, scientists walking too and fro across a large atrium filled with oversized holoscreens. At the end of the room, prominently displayed and rhythmically pulsing status reports, stood a forty foot tall display of complicated graphics. They swirled and meshed together, forming tighter and tighter knots until there was nothing but a single, silent blue dot centred on the screen.

“You’re always coming when I’m going,� called Angela, one of the project staff, smiling shyly as she took Batista’s heavy jacket. She was pretty, though just a little gawky, with green eyes, dark hair chopped at her jaw line and a cascade of silver swirls across her left cheek.

“Yeah,� said Batista, shaking the snow from his hair. He gave a little apologetic half-smile. “Once we’re sure the system works, I’ll make sure our schedules align properly.�

She grinned, and his eyes followed her out into the hall. There was a beat or two of embarrassed silence, broken when she gave a little laugh and said, “Well, I guess I’ll catch you later.�

“Yeah,� said Batista. Shrugging, Angela bundled herself up in the bulky surface suit and slouched under its weight to the elevator door. Batista took one last look, and when the doors had closed and she was gone, to himself he said: “You’re a real ladies’ man, Batista.�

He settled himself behind a large holoscreen, and pulled up a graphic representation of the quantum time tunnels he and his team would be manipulating soon. They hypnotically shifted themselves, almost like a giant snake. Batista was the lead scientist of the research team assigned to assessing the viability of temporal technology as an offensive weapon, and today was their big day: the day the switch was thrown and fifty years of research reached its conclusion. They were going to manipulate time.

Nothing huge, of course, at least not at this stage. His team had used simple chemistry to create an impossibly complex inorganic molecule – something that could never occur in nature without intelligent manipulation of chemical bonds. They intended to send the molecule thirty minutes into the future, and across the room. It was a test designed to calibrate the quantum time tunnel generator, and hopefully, if all went well, pave the way for larger experiments.

Eventually, the time came to throw the switch. Batista was given the honour. An assistant addressed him: “All systems appear to be functioning within operational parameters. Electron feed is stable, grav-pulse generators are online. Molecule is stable and awaiting transmission from the test chamber. Do we have go authorisation?�

Batista breathed deeply, feeling the anticipation rise within his chest. “You have go authorisation. Initiate transmission phase.�

“Acknowledged. Molecule is descending into the time-twist. Uh, Professor, I’m picking up some strange fluctuations in the quantum structure of the wormhole. It’s probably nothing... No, wait! The interstice in time is shifting, and the event horizon is widening. Shit!�

He walked into the lab through the now seven foot tall quantum time wormhole, knowing the security sensors would now have his image on file. He didn’t care.
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