"Fate is nothing but the deeds committed in a prior state of existence." -- Ralph Waldo Emerson
"I don't believe in fate or destiny. I believe in various degrees of hatred, paranoia, and abandonment. However much of that gets heaped upon you doesn't matter - it's only a matter of how much you can take and what it does to you." -- Henry Rollins
"A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it" -- Jean de La Fontaine
"I don't understand how a woman can leave the house without fixing herself up a little - if only out of politeness. And then, you never know, maybe that's the day she has a date with destiny. And it's best to be as pretty as possible for destiny. -- Coco Chanel
[u]May 20, 2002[u]
The clock's hands pointed to 10:40. It hung on a pegboard that was setup behind a make-shift workbench. Tools of all sorts littered the workspace, strewn haphazardly; at least, it appeared that way at first glance. The man sitting in front of the workbench would, no doubt, have had a different opinion on the matter.
He was 32-years old; a prodigy, or so he was often told. Time Magazine had dubbed him "A new Einstein". While the attention embarrassed him, it also pleased him. A copy of the Time cover was pinned to the wall, its prominence belied somewhat by the five darts sticking into it in various places.
The man in the photo was as striking as the intellect that drove him - Tightly curled, brilliantly red hair and freckles, the unlikely legacy of some unknown Irish ancestor, topped a handsome face with a broad nose and an auburn complexion bequeathed upon him from an ancient African bloodline.
His college friends had dubbed him "Ron Howard and Denzel Washington's Love Child" and he had laughed along with them. Hed had more dates in college than any three of his frat brothers. He could afford to laugh.
Professor Jonas Clark, BS, MS, PhD, PJF, et al. was busying himself in the back of a bronze-colored metal drum. The drum was, roughly speaking, the shape of an oil drum though only about one-half the size. A large door set into the back of it hung open. It was this opening in which Clarks arms were currently buried up to the elbows.
He hummed tunelessly as he worked. Appendages attached to the drum would occasionally twitch and Clark would nod in a satisfied manner. "MMM,hmmm. That's looking good. This upgrade should make you feel like a new man, Eddi."
An electronically-synthesized voice spoke from the 2-foot-wide dome attached to the "shoulders" area of the bronze drum. "Thank you, Professor", replied robotic unit 3DDI, more colloquially known as 'Eddi'. Lights inside of its "eye" lenses flashed as it spoke, with an overall effect that was simultaneously comical and slightly menacing. "I am able to access the new diagnostic routines and I have determined that my reaction speed has improved by 34% already."
"Just a couple more connections to make", Clark said. He stretched and reached for a Blasto-Cola, as a portable black and white television at the end of the workbench announced:
"WSPR now returns to... Stephen King's, The Dead Zone".
On the small screen, John Smith asked Dr. Sam Wiezak, "If you could go back in time to Germany, before Hitler came to power, knowing what you know now, would you kill him?"
Wiezak asked, in turn, "Is that why you sent for me, to ask me this, uh... this question?"
Clark smacked his lips and sighed in satisfaction. "What do you say, Eddi? Is Christopher Walken the greatest actor that ever lived or what?"
He took a swig of Blasto as Eddi answered, "I did enjoy his performance in the cowbell sketch we saw last week." Clark convulsed, and the Blasto lived up to its name as cola sprayed from his nose, covering a significant portion of the workbench.
"Are you well, Professor?" Eddi asked in concern.
"I'm... I'm okay, really!" Clark gasped, laughing uproariously while simultaneously attempting to cough his lungs out. He spluttered noisily until the laughter won the battle. His face flushed, he chortled; "Eddi, every time I think I understand you completely, you surprise me in some new way."
"I am pleased to have been a source of entertainment for you, Professor."
Clark slapped the bronze drum affectionately. "You have no idea, Eddi!" He looked up at the television and waved with the hand holding the soda. "Ooo! Ooo! This is the best part!"
With an exaggerated bass voice, Clark intoned along with Dr. Wiezak, "All right... All right. I'll give you an answer. I'm a man of medicine. I'm expected to save lives and ease suffering. I love people. Therefore... I would have no choice but to kill the son of a b----."
Clark laughed. "You tell him, Doc!"
Johnny Smith said, "You'd never get away alive."
"It doesn't matter", replied Wiezak. "I would kill him. Nasdro via. Skol."
"Skol!" Clark agreed, as he lifted the can in salute. He snapped off the television. "Enough distractions! he declared. Let's get this done and call it a night."
"What is fate, Professor?"
Clark peered into the metal body, then reached for a circuit board wrapped in an anti-static bag. "That's a philosophical question, Eddi. I was never much good at philosophy." As he unwrapped and installed it, he asked "Why? Are you thinking about the movie?
"Yes", Eddi answered. "If I understand correctly, Johnny Smith was trying to fight fate."
Clark leaned back and brushed imaginary dust from his hands. "You could look at it that way. If he took no action, the future would occur according to his visions." He picked up the soldering iron and resumed his work. "The premise of the movie is that fate is not set in stone. The future is malleable, to a certain degree. Thanks to his unique vision, Johnny had the opportunity to bend fate in a different direction."
"So, fate is what happens when the universe is left to its own devices?"
Clark paused; brow furrowed. He chuckled and shrugged. "I suppose so. I'll have to try that one on Professor Reese next week and see what he says." He set down the soldering iron and examined his handiwork. Satisfied, he fastened the access door, and stood. "I would have said that 'fate is the sum total of a man's actions'."
"Here, let's get you up." He hooked an arm under Eddi's shoulder and heaved as Eddi pushed. In a moment, he was on his feet. Clark examined his robot and smiled. It looked like something out of a 1960's science fiction movie and that pleased him inordinately for reasons he didn't fully understand. An echo of childhood nostalgia, he supposed.
Eddi walked over to the docking station and sat down. As Clark hooked up the various computer interfaces, Eddi asked "Was Johnny able to change his fate, Professor?"
Clark looked at a nearby monitor, harumphed, and made some adjustments. Satisfied now, he picked up the keyboard and began scheduling a suite of diagnostics for the newly installed hardware and software. "Only indirectly", he replied. "He was able to alter another man's destiny. A consequence of that was a change in the destiny of the entire world."
He switched off the monitor and set aside the keyboard. "I'd say, rather, that Johnny fulfilled his destiny. If we assume that the future and past can be seen in some fashion, that means that all of a man's decisions have already been made, on some meta-level. He can't change his own fate. Only an outside agency can change it by offering him new decisions or changing the outcome of his existing decisions. That's why the ancients invented Oracles, I suppose."
He double-checked that all was in order, then flipped a switch marked 'Sleep Mode'. "Maggie and the girls are going to Lake Salamanca this weekend. I'll be joining them on Tuesday for a few days of vacation. It may be a week or so before I stop by again. Is that alright? Your batteries will recharge in the meantime and we'll have a good set of diagnostic results by then."
"That is quite alright, Professor. Enjoy your vacation."
Clark took a last look around the workshop. "Sleep well, Eddi."
"Sleep mode initiated" replied the diagnostic program. The door closed and the lights went out.
[u]May 23, 2002[u]
The red lights winked into existence around the globe at 4:00pm EDT. At 7:30pm, Death strode the Earth at the head of an army of monsters. People the world over ran, screamed, burned, and died by the hundreds of thousands. Clark never made it to Lake Salamanca. Like so many other anonymous victims of the Rikti invasion, he simply vanished from the face of the Earth.
It was nearly three years before the lights in the workshop came on again.
I'm liking this already - and not just because it's another take on a timeless classic. Please, do continue. 
"If I had Force powers, vacuum or not my cape/clothes/hair would always be blowing in the Dramatic Wind." - Tenzhi
Characters
[u]June 20, 2007[u]
For Detective Jose Brogan, it was shaping up to be one of those days. His morning had been spent testifying in what should have been a straight-forward injury/unreasonable force suit between a criminal and the Hero who arrested him.
Unfortunately, the attorney for the plaintiff was the notorious Christopher Jenkins, a man who made even other attorneys shudder. The rookie Hero who made the collar, expecting a cut and dried hearing, had unwisely chosen to represent himself.
By the time Jenkins finished with him, it wasnt a question whether the costumed crook would win damages. The only question was whether the Hero would be bankrupt afterwards. The question of guilt in regards to the criminal acts became almost a footnote in the whole bizarre proceeding.
When Brogan left the courtroom, the Hero was sitting with his face in his hands, broken and confused by a system that he had expected would embrace him and make a legend out of his exploits. It was a tough reality check on yet another would-be hero who expected that real life is like a comic book. Brogan felt for the guy.
Still, he thought a little wryly as he walked to his car; If youre going to arrest people using a five-foot-long fiery sword, youd better have your liability insurance paid up
The folder for Brogans latest case was waiting on his desk. He read through it, then walked into the Captains office and waved it at him. Is this for real?
Captain Brown smirked. I know you like the weird ones, he said.
Like isnt the word I would have chosen, Brogan griped.
Love em or hate em, nobody handles em as well as you, Jose.
Brogan sighed and opened the folder. You know this Armitage guy is probably a nutcase, dont you?
This town is full of nutcases, Brown replied. Look at those newbie Heroes you hang out with.
Brogan looked up from the folder with a start. Brown picked up his coffee cup, then leaned back in his chair and surveyed Brogan coolly over the rim. Brogan said nothing.
Captain Brown finally broke the silence. Word gets around, Jose. I dont mind, personally. What you do on your own time is your business. Lots of cops help out Heroes, after all.
He took a sip, set down the coffee and leaned forward. If Internal Affairs gets the idea that you and your buddies are recruiting Heroes to be some kind of private army against these Lost yahoos, I cant do much to shield you. They take a dim view of cops who take the law into their own hands.
Ill be careful, Brogan said.
You do that, said the Captain, as he picked up his cup again. In the meantime, our job is to separate the dangerous nutcases from the less dangerous ones. Ill expect a report on the Clark case tomorrow afternoon.
The phone rang and Captain Brown answered it. After listening for a moment, he dismissed Brogan with a wave of his coffee, then turned away to tend to his own business.
Brogan looked at the folder again and shook his head. This job was a lot simpler in Philly, he said to nobody in particular, and headed out to interrogate a time traveler.
Self-proclaimed scientists are a dime a dozen in Paragon City. Most spend more time pitching their latest bizarre theories to people with deep pockets and shallow minds, or peddling their inventions to would-be Heroes, than they spend doing any serious research.
By contrast, Holsten Armitage had made a good impression on the right people. He was instrumental in organizing the rescue of Senator Vasily Dybalski from the Rikti when nobody, even the Hero who ultimately saved him, really believed he was in danger.
A grateful Dybalski had pulled strings and procured Armitage an appointment at the Titor Institute for Applied Metaphysics. He went to work immediately, producing three new patentable systems within a month, and assuring himself a permanent position at the Institute.
Saying that research scientists in Paragon City tend to be eccentric is like saying that Pete Rose had a tendency to gamble. Armitage was no exception. He claimed to anyone who would listen that he had narrowly escaped the annihilation of Mankind by the Rikti some twenty years hence. He was obsessed with preventing the supposed invasion.
The Titor Institute tolerated his eccentricities and even humored him. It made no difference to the board of directors whether his research was based on scientific theory from the future or a brilliant but delusional mind. As long as the Institute continued to receive patents for his work, it was all the same to them.
The clock read 14:15 when Brogan arrived at the Titor Institute. He was ushered into a lab and asked to wait while Doctor Armitage finished whatever he was currently doing.
As the office assistant announced his arrival, Brogan compared the researcher across the room to the mad scientist profile that he carried around in his head. Armitage looked to be in his early fifties, with unkempt white hair and a beard that would have done Santa Claus proud if not for its seeming to point in six directions at once.
A white lab coat rounded off his ensemble, and a bank of computer consoles with blinking lights and scrolling displays completed the effect. Brogan decided that Holsten Armitage would have no trouble winning the Oppenheimer of the Year Award at whatever convention caters to fringe scientists.
For his part, Armitage was positively effusive once his attention was freed from his work. He strode quickly and confidently across the room, hand extended; the picture of a man who believes that all is right with the world. "Detective Brogan, welcome! I'm relieved that you've finally come. I'd been expecting you yesterday!"
Brogan was taken aback. This was nothing like how he'd planned to open the conversation. "You were expecting me yesterday?"
Armitage grasped Brogan's hand warmly and pumped it enthusiastically. "Of course, of course!" The confusion on Brogan's face tipped him that he'd put the cart before the horse. "Ah, forgive me. By 'You' I simply meant someone in an official capacity, not you personally. I warned the excavators that they might find Professor Clark's remains and instructed them to inform the proper authorities immediately if that occurred. I had assumed that you came here to release the site so that we can get on with our experiment. The window of opportunity is limited!"
Brogan retrieved his hand from Armitage's grasp. "As to that..." he began. He was interrupted by a musical chime from across the lab, followed by Armitage quickly and firmly grasping his shoulder with one hand, his elbow with the other, and steering him several steps to the right.
"You'd best step over here." Armitage said. "We're not entirely certain about the radius of the electrical field."
Armitage stepped quickly over to a conveniently-placed workstation and began flipping switches. He looked past Brogan expectantly. Brogan turned and saw a brief shimmer in the air a few steps from where he had been standing. Without any warning, the empty space was suddenly full of brass and plastic, as a large copper-colored statue, shaped like an oil barrel with articulated arms and legs and a half-dome for a head, appeared out of thin air!
A thrill ran through Brogan, born completely of childhood fear and wonder. He swore under his breath and had his pistol half-drawn before he realized the absurdity of what he was doing.
Like many children of his generation who had had spent Saturday mornings in front of the television, he'd followed the adventures of Captain Blastoff and his adversaries, the Goonbots. Unlike most kids, he'd had nightmares about them the first time he saw them; at least, until Captain Blastoff had beaten them a few times. Eventually, he'd found them, if not amusing, at least not so frightening.
So he had thought, anyway. It seemed that childhood monsters could still jump out from under the beds to terrorize adults under the right circumstances!
"Hello, Detective Brogan", said the Goonbot with an evil grin, its eyes flashing malignly. "It's a pleasure to meet you again."
"Wha...?" Brogan stammered. He flinched back as the Goonbot extended a claw toward him, and then realized it was offering him an envelope. He glanced at Armitage. The scientist was openly curious; Brogan had the distinct impression that this exchange would very shortly find its way into a scholarly journal, as a paper analyzing the behavior of human beings when faced with the spontaneous creation of malevolent electronic beings.
When Brogan made no motion to accept the envelope, Armitage shrugged and commenced activating various pieces of equipment. "Status report, Eddi?" he asked.
The Goonbot replied, "Status is nominal. Several non-essential systems are currently offline, but compensating circuits are already reinitializing and rebooting all but two of them. Overall operability is 94%. The shield appears to have functioned successfully within its design tolerances."
"Excellent!" exclaimed Armitage. Brogan waited for him to rub his hands and cackle maniacally. It was reassuring, if slightly disappointing, that he instead asked, "Are you going to take your envelope, Detective?" and returned to whatever he was doing.
The 10-year-old lurking at the back of Brogan's brain was warning him to run for his life and not look back! Brogan hadn't managed a successful career as a homicide detective in both Philadelphia and Paragon City by listening to his "inner child", however. When he failed to come up with any reasonable alternatives, he reached gingerly for the envelope, half-prepared for the robot to grab him at the last second.
For its part, the Goonbot released the envelope, bowed as cordially as its ungainly frame allowed, and turned towards a nearby computer. It picked up a bundle of cables, and proceeded to plug them into various receptacles placed around its armature. As it did so, its eyes flashed malevolently again. "I was instructed, Detective, that you should place the envelope into your briefcase and lock it such that you would be satisfied that no-one could tamper with it."
Brogan was dumbfounded. "What do you mean, you were 'instructed'? Who instructed you? What the hell is going on around here?" It was Armitage that answered. "I'm sorry Detective, we're on a bit of a time limit. I think I see where this is going, however. If you'll be kind enough to do as Eddi asked, he and I will finish our work and then we'll be free to discuss things at length."
Scowling, Brogan bit back his retort. He'd arrived without an appointment hoping to startle information out of Armitage. He hadn't calculated on Armitage pulling a role reversal! There was nothing to do at this point but go along with whatever was happening here and deal with the scientist once he had his full attention again.
He set his briefcase on a nearby table and placed the envelope inside, despite the urge to just open the damned thing. Slamming the lid irritably, he spun the padlock wheels a few times for good measure. Unless Armitage was a magician as well as a scientist (A distinction frequently blurred in Paragon City) there was no way he was getting inside the briefcase without Brogan's cooperation.
"I am ready to initiate retrieval, Doctor Armitage." The Goonbot had disconnected the interface cables and returned to the spot where it had first appeared. Another chime sounded, a deeper tone than the previous one.
Armitage glanced at the clock. "Just in time.", he said, looking satisfied. "At your discretion, Eddi."
The Goonbot reached a claw to a metal box attached to a belt at its waist that featured an assortment of dials and switches, as well as a single large button that the robot could easily press with its claw. As Brogan watched, it did just that. There was the briefest wavering shimmer in the air, as if he was looking through the heat haze over a desert road, and the Goonbot ceased to exist.
Well? Brogan asked impatiently. He turned to face Armitage, then pointed at the empty spot on the floor. Where did it go?
Armitage looked annoyed. Eddi is not an it, Detective. HE is an electronic life form. Despite his comical appearance, his internal hardware and software are every bit as sophisticated as the best supercomputers here at the Institute. He was designed and built by Professor Jonas Clark, who was something of a genius in these matters.
Comical, my [censored]! thought Brogan. His inner bloodhound raised its nose and sniffed eagerly at the mention of Clarks name. Aloud, he asked Why build a super high tech artificial intelligence into a Goonbot?
How very interesting! Armitage replied enthusiastically, ignoring the question. He pulled a pen and a notepad from an inside pocket of his coat. Is that why youre so hostile towards him? He resembles the antagonist from a childs television program? He scribbled on the pad, and then replaced both items into his coat. Personally, Ive always thought he looked like one of those robots from the old Rocket Man serials.
Brogan remembered the last time hed dealt with an oppenheimer, and counted to five instead of swearing. You havent answered my question, Armitage. Why make him look like THAT?
Armitage shrugged. I dont have the answer. Eddi was not an official University project. Based on the little Ive gleaned from Eddi on the subject, Ive concluded that Clark simply liked it that way. It amused him. Eddi was a hobby, Detective. Clark built him for the fun of it. If he had any actual plans for Eddi, they arent recorded anywhere and Eddi himself is ignorant on the subject.
A new chime played, the deepest yet. A Goonbot entered from another room, identical in appearance to the one Brogan had seen spontaneously materialize, and then vaporize just as spontaneously. Armitage waved it over. Eddi, this is our guest, Detective Brogan of the Paragon City Police Department.
A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Detective Brogan Eddi said politely, managing a half-bow despite his lack of a waist.
Youve already made my acquaintance! Brogan replied shortly.
Have I? Eddi asked. "The event is not recorded in my memory banks."
He swiveled his head towards Armitage, who tapped his wristwatch meaningfully. "Oh, I see!" Eddi exclaimed. "The experiment is a success then?"
"So far, yes." replied Armitage. With a ghost of a smile, he said "Why don't you take your place, Eddi, and we'll insure that it remains successful."
The robot walked to the spot where it had recently violated several laws of physics and waited. Armitage had stepped around behind a desk and was going through the drawers. The wheels turning in Brogan's head finally interlocked with the profile he was carrying in the folder in his briefcase and he looked from Eddi to the scientist wonderingly.
"So, it wasn't a teleport?" he asked. "You want me to believe that Eddi time-traveled to ten minutes ago?" By this time, Armitage had emerged from the clutter around the desk with a pen, paper, and an envelope identical to the one locked in the briefcase.
Armitage checked his watch and looked satisfied. He nodded to Brogan. "I understand it's difficult to believe. Trust me. I've been trying to convince others for years. Let's put it to the test, though. Tell me, Detective - What is something that you've never told anyone else, that I couldn't possibly have known about you before you arrived here?
Brogan had never liked guessing games, especially when it involved one of his cases. For a second, he considered hauling Armitage down to the station and putting an end to the rigamarol. His instincts advised him otherwise. Years working the streets of Philadelphia as well as the surreal criminal underworld of Paragon City had taught him to trust his instincts.
With an effort, he summoned his professional detachment and considered Armitages question. "Alright," he growled. "I'll go along with your experiment." He gave Armitage his "bad cop" glare. "If I find out you're playing me, I'm going to be unhappy." Brogan took some satisfaction from the trepidation that crept into Armitage's enthusiasm.
Brogan looked thoughtful for a moment. "When I was nine-years-old," he began, "My teacher was Miss Bodell, and on the first day of school I was smitten. She was my first love and my first heartbreak. I worshipped her for most of the school year. The heartbreak came when I was walking home one evening after baseball practice. She lived near the school and I'd made a habit of walking past her house and imagining that I'd someday knock on the door and impress her with my mature conversation. She'd be unable to resist and she'd fall madly in love with me. I happened to look up, and there she was, holding the hand of a man Id never seen before. She kissed him, and it felt like someone had punched me in the chest. When she got married that summer, I was sure I'd never love another girl."
Brogan snorted at the memory and looked over at Armitage. The scientist was writing on the paper and smiling. He looked up and said, "My childhood crush was Kat Railly, the girl in the third row in my math class. I spent the whole year afraid to talk to her, then her family moved that summer and I never got the chance."
Armitage sealed the paper into envelope and handed it to Eddi. "When you see Detective Brogan next, please ask him to put this into his briefcase where it can't be tampered with."
"Very well, Doctor Armitage," Eddie replied. He extended a claw and pressed a button on the belt he wore that caused various parts of it to light up and come alive. "I am ready to begin whenever you are."
Brogan's eyes went from his briefcase, to the envelope in the robot's hand, and back again. He suddenly experienced an almost overwhelming urge to snatch the envelope from the robots grasp. Before he could act on it, Armitage threw a switch, and a group of oval-shaped fixtures set in the ceiling ignited, lighting the area around Eddi like a floodlamp. A second later, he was gone.
Zoomed through this all in one go... keep going! Please!
Michelle
aka
Samuraiko/Dark_Respite
Dark_Respite's Farewell Video: "One Last Day"
THE COURSE OF SUPERHERO ROMANCE CONTINUES!
Book I: A Tale of Nerd Flirting! ~*~ Book II: Courtship and Crime Fighting - Chap Nine live!
MA Arcs - 3430: Hell Hath No Fury / 3515: Positron Gets Some / 6600: Dyne of the Times / 351572: For All the Wrong Reasons
378944: Too Clever by Half / 459581: Kill or Cure / 551680: Clerical Errors (NEW!)
THE COURSE OF SUPERHERO ROMANCE CONTINUES!
Book I: A Tale of Nerd Flirting! ~*~ Book II: Courtship and Crime Fighting - Chap Nine live!
MA Arcs - 3430: Hell Hath No Fury / 3515: Positron Gets Some / 6600: Dyne of the Times / 351572: For All the Wrong Reasons
378944: Too Clever by Half / 459581: Kill or Cure / 551680: Clerical Errors (NEW!)
I'm glad some folks are enjoying Eddi's story. There may be a brief intermission as I wasn't quite as far along as I imagined. *heh* I know the roadmap for the rest of the story, but from here on out, I'm winging it. 
It's not often that someone writes about time travel and I enjoy it. Huzzah for SlickRiptide!
#69397 Get Grog a Drink!
#155312 No Good Deed Goes Unrewarded
#229565 Take Back the Park! (lowbie friendly)
Praetor of the [url="http://www.forgottenlegion.net"]Forgotten Legion[/url] SG and mod for the HUB player community. All hail the mighty Grog!
Armitage consulted a digital clock placed near the controls of the time-travel device and began making notations in a nearby composition notebook.
Well, Detective Brogan, he said, without looking up from his writing. It seems we have fourteen-and-a-half minutes in which to answer any questions you have.
Brogan looked at the briefcase, but his curiosity about Armitages statement got the better of him.
Why fourteen minutes?
What do you mean? This time Armitage lifted his head and looked at Brogan curiously.
I assume were waiting for Eddi to return. Why wait fourteen minutes? Why doesnt he just return now or even five minutes ago?
Ah! Youre asking why he cant return at some arbitrary point in time. Armitage looked thoughtful. That would take some explaining. To a layman, it would be confusing.
Brogan frowned, and then decided that Armitage was not being deliberately insulting. Try me. Police training requires learning some science and Ive been known to read a book once in a while.
If Armitage noticed the implied rebuke, he gave no sign. Instead, he thought for a moment and finally said, Youve no doubt heard of Schroedingers Cat?
Sure, replied Brogan. You put a cat and a vial of poison gas together in a box along with a device that has a 50/50 chance of activating the poison. The cat could be alive or it could be dead, but you dont know until you open the box. According to some cockamamey theories, the act of observing the cat influences its state, and therefore the cat is in some indeterminate state while the box is closed. Until you open it and force it to resolve its reality by looking at it, the cat is neither alive nor dead, or maybe its both alive AND dead.
Very well put! said Armitage with a smile of approval. I daresay that the matter of observing the outcome looks rather different from the cats point of view, though, which is one of the failures of that particular thought experiment.
In any case, it illustrates a different and much more important point about the Universe What you look for is what you get. That is, the methods by which you choose to observe the universe and the expectations inherent in your method of observation have a direct influence on what you learn about the Universe and how your observations affect it.
Im not sure what youre driving at.
What Im saying, Detective, is that theres more than one way to skin a cat!
Armitage chuckled, as Brogan waited, stone-faced. Armitage sighed at the failure of his joke and continued, At the sub-atomic level, Reality ceases to exist. What we think of as Real is actually the result of an indescribably complex interaction between a multitude of these quarks, muons, and so forth. At a certain point, Reality simply dissolves into what scientists have nicknamed The Quantum Foam
Brogan nodded. Alright, I dont really understand all of that, but Ive at least read about it before in one of those The Life and Times of Time books by Emmett Lloyd Brown.
Excellent! You really are much better versed in these matters than I would have expected!
Brogan grunted non-committally and checked the clock. It showed some ten minutes or so until Eddis scheduled reappearance.
What does any of this have to do with time travel? he asked.
Everything! exclaimed Armitage. There are innumerable technical complications, but they all boil down to two related facts.
Firstly, so-called time travel has little to do with time and everything to do with the nature of Reality. Time Travel is just a method whereby an individual chooses a particular aspect of Reality to interact with, instead of being limited to only that aspect which is visible to his senses at any given moment.
Secondly, there are as many different ways to time travel as there are ways of imagining the nature of Reality, and each of them are just as valid as any of the others. How you do it is simply a function of how you choose to observe the Universe.
That caught Brogan up short. That sounds completely senseless! The Universe has physical laws that it follows! You cant just ignore them and impose your own set of imaginary laws onto it!
Trust me, Detective. At the sub-atomic level, a scientist armed with the proper technology and understanding can do precisely that!
What about the parallel universe theory? How do you know that your time travel isnt just traveling to a different universe?
Armitage nodded sagely. As I said, there are several possible ways to time travel and all are equally valid. The forking reality concept is one useful way of imagining time and interactions with it. As evidenced by the existence of Portal Corporation, it even has some practical applications.
As a way of manipulating time, however, it is useless. It fundamentally denies the possibility of altering Reality, preferring to view alterations as substitutions of one Reality for another. My goal is to affect a change in our Reality, not to observe a series of possible variations upon it.
Brogan protested, Ive read enough about this stuff to know that any trip to the past is automatically going to cause a paradox.
Not necessarily, replied Armitage. For instance, one of my colleagues, Doctor Connor, has her own theories. She believes that time is like a block of crystal, which she imagines to extend from the birth of the universe at one end to the death of universe at the other.
This temporal crystal is inviolate. It reflects every action ever taken and every action that will ever be. Our consciousness occupies a kind of track through the temporal crystal, that traces our lives. She even believes that a single consciousness can travel down a series of tracks in the temporal crystal, giving a scientific basis for the phenomenon of past lives or reincarnation.
Brogan looked briefly as if he was a hound that had caught an interesting scent. He put his hand into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, then shrugged and unlocked the briefcase. Armitage raised an eyebrow expectantly, but Brogan ignored the sealed envelope and instead extracted a pen and notepad of his own.
This colleague of yours, he said. What was her name again?
Connor, replied Armitage. Why would you
?
Her full name, please, interrupted Brogan. He held the pen and pad expectantly.
Armitage was nonplussed. Ah, well, as to that
, he began. He looked flustered, and then surprised. You know, weve known each other professionally for almost two years, and Ive never thought to ask her for her full name. Susan? Sarah?
You say shes a professor at Paragon City University?
Yes, in the physics department.
That will do for now, then. Brogan scribbled, and then put away the pen and notepad.
You were telling me about Professor Connors model for time travel.
Armitage eyed the notepad in the open briefcase. May I ask
?
No. Brogans impassive face brooked no argument.
Armitage frowned in puzzlement, but finally he straightened his shoulders and went on with his explanation.
Finally got a chance to read this.
I don't know what to say about the subject material (but I better damn well figure that out soon), but I'm liking the work, Slick.
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
Thanks. It's a kind of an extensive setup, but given that it's pretty obviously a time travel story, the setup is neccesary (in my mind) to insure that it's at least minimally consistent and believable.
Plus I really like the idea of working with Holsten Armitage. I always figured he deserved more than just a one-off 'Hi! I'm the Science Store!" mission.
Most of them deserve more. Heck, Serafina is featured in the Scirocco arc and numerous times throughout the game (the Shards and Crystal of Serafina, the Serafina's Veil Band Mission, Maros sends you to steal her bottle, etc.). I wonder why the others didn't get as much treatment.
Heh.
Maybe the Devs just like looking at Serafina.
My Stories
Look at that. A full-grown woman pulling off pigtails. Her crazy is off the charts.
As I was saying, the Connor model represents Reality as a kind of multi-dimensional solid that encompasses all of time. Because it contains all possible actions, paradox is impossible. A time traveler who attempts to change Reality by altering past events will instead find himself participating in some fashion in the fulfillment of those events.
In Doctor Connors estimation, destiny is simply the fulfillment of your conscious track through the temporal crystal.
So, she dismisses Free Will?
THAT is a philosophical question. I deal with science. Its much easier on the brain! Armitage chuckled. To talk about Free Will, you have to first agree on a definition of what it means. Most arguments about it derive from the participants starting from two differing notions of what exactly constitutes Free Will. Doctor Connor would say that if you were never coerced, that you exercised Free Will even if, from a multi-dimensional viewpoint, the events you participated in were actually eternal and unchangeable.
What do YOU say?
Armitage considered the question. I would say, for the purposes of this discussion, that it comes down to Uncertainty.
Brogan shook his head. Youll have to explain that one. He glanced towards the lighted area of the floor and then at the clock on the control console. Six minutes and ten seconds remained.
Are you familiar with the Uncertainty Principle? Armitage asked him.
Sort of. replied Brogan. Doesnt it have to do with how you cant completely define the existing state of something because the act of observing has an effect upon it that changes its state?
Armitage beamed with the proud air of a teacher whose pet student has made a particularly bright observation. Thats close enough for our purposes.
In a sense, the differences between the two examples weve discussed and my methods boil down to where we place the Uncertainty.
The forking reality model tries to remove the Uncertainty entirely, with the effect that Reality itself becomes uncertain and you cant know which reality youre experiencing until you directly observe it.
You also cant be sure that the reality that you experience is, in fact, the same reality that someone else experiences since you have to first establish which version of that person youre referring to.
The cat is both alive AND dead! said Brogan.
Precisely! Doctor Connors model, by contrast, attempts to remove the Uncertainty from Time, with the result that it falls upon the time traveler himself. This has some interesting consequences. Her version of a time machine would only be able to open a path through the 'tunnel' of a single persons life, and only to the times and places experienced by that person.
Since Reality is fixed, the act of moving through time and space has unpredictable results upon the traveler, causing him to conform to the requirements of Reality at his destination. This could be an apparently random series of events pushing the traveler towards a certain outcome regardless of his own actions. It might even cause a kind of quantum compression or quantum scaling, forcing the traveler to assume the physical or mental form that he originally possessed at that time in his own life!
Brogans eye widened in disbelief. You mean that I could step into this time tunnel to try and stop the Kennedy assassination and when I arrived at the other end, I might be three years old?
Theoretically speaking, yes. Armitage grinned. Doctor Connor is still years from applying her theoretical framework to the design of a prototype device. So far, no one has been in a position to verify what will actually happen.
Brogan glanced at the clock again and fixed Armitage with a penetrating look. Weve established what your methods are NOT, he said with a trace of impatience. Now, why dont you tell me what your methods actually ARE.
Are you familiar with chemical reactions, Detective?
Brogan made an exasperated noise. What does that have to do with time travel?
More than you might imagine! replied Armitage. As I mentioned, Reality as we perceive it is actually, at its most fundamental level, an infinitely complex interaction of sub-atomic particles. Instead of attempting to model the universe at a macroscopic level, I have succeeded in modeling the relevant parts of the microcosmic levels of the universe.
But you just called it infinitely complex. How are you able to model that?
Armitage lovingly patted the machinery that Brogan had come to think of as the control panel. He waved to indicate the lamps that still illuminated the floor space where Eddi had disappeared, as well as some nearby computer consoles.
Thanks to many breakthroughs weve made here, along with some technology that survived my original trip to this time period from 2025, it isnt necessary to try and build a model of the exact state of the universe. All thats necessary is to measure its equilibrium and then determine the extent it can be shifted and the directions in which it can be shifted.
His brows furrowed, Brogan tried to remember his High School chemistry classes. Im not getting how any of this relates to chemistry, he admitted.
Its very simple, Detective. Lets imagine that I have two chemicals, A and B, and that are both clear liquids. When I mix them together, a reaction occurs and the vial of AB turns red. From a macroscopic viewpoint, the reaction has finished and has achieved a static result. I now have a red fluid.
The microscopic viewpoint is another picture entirely. At the molecular level, the fluid is in a constant state of flux. At any given moment, we have molecules of A, B, and AB that are combining with each other and then breaking apart. The situation appears static from the outside because the two reactions, the combining of A and B molecules into AB, and the decay of AB into separate A and B molecules are happening at the same rate. The supposedly static steady-state is really two opposing reactions that are at equilibrium.
Brogan frowned dubiously. Do I understand you to be saying that Reality is the side effect of a cosmic chemical reaction?
That is precisely what Im saying. With Eddi's assistance, I have applied some of Professor Clark's unpublished designs to successfully build a suite of quantum computers that can measure the state of the cosmic equilibrium, determine how and where it is sensitive to change, and accurately describe the conditions at the point of arrival.
Brogan's eyes narrowed. "Your work is based on Clark's? Why would you need to do that if you managed to get here from the future?"
Armitage had begun working with his monitoring devices again as the moment of Eddi's arrival approached. "My original designs were insufficiently accurate. This was not the time period I was aiming for. I've spent most of the last few years rebuilding my original designs and enhancing them using Clark's designs."
Armitage looked up at Brogan, and a faintly fanatical look was in his eyes. "In fact, it's my hope to reach that moment in time as soon as you give us clearance to conduct our experiments at the excavation."
"So, it would be fair to say that without Clark's designs, your own designs would be failures."
Armitage looked stung. After moment, though, he sighed and said "Honesty requires me to acknowledge the truth of your statement. I only wish that Professor Clark himself had been alive to accept his share of the credit."
"I bet!", muttered Brogan to himself.
One-minute remained before Eddis return. Armitage stepped up to the control console once more as Brogan thought about what he had said. "This 'quantum equilibrium' makes a kind of sense, but I still don't see how it explains why Eddi hasn't come back yet."
"Uncertainty, Detective!" Armitage was once more engaged in monkeying with his computers and machines. "You can think of my devices as having created a kind of 'soap bubble' around a particular piece of time and space and described it accurately enough to allow a traveller to step through the 'bubble' to that other time."
"My goal is to push the Uncertainty onto the outcome of the events inside of the 'bubble'. A side effect is that the 'bubble' becomes fixed in time and space. My time machine can move you through time, but not through space. Likewise, the passage of time for the machine has to be identical to the passage of time for the traveler. For all intents and purposes, the machine is synchronized with the traveler."
"You can think of it as a door that stays open until the traveler walks back through it." Armitage waved at the door where Brogan had entered the room. "When you walk through that door over there, you have no control of what or when is on the other side. The 'time door' is no different. It's not a conveyor that drops you whenever you wish. It's simply a portal that connects two points in time that happen to otherwise occupy the same space."
A faint glow had appeared in the spot where Eddi had vanished. A few seconds later, Eddi himself was standing under the 'floodlights'.
Armitage smiled in satisfaction. "Welcome back, Eddi! I trust that all is well?"
Eddi swiveled his head towards Armitage as he stepped over to the computer console that Brogan had seen him use earlier and began plugging in the various monitors again.
"The return trip caused reactions similar to those of the outbound trip, Doctor Armitage. The shield appears to have mitigated nearly all of the potential temporal realignment effects."
Eddi paused and, in what seemed to Brogan to be a weirdly human gesture, placed one claw on his "chin" and rubbed it back and forth.
"What is it Eddi?" asked Armitage.
"Perhaps it is nothing. When I activated the retrieval, I experienced a kind of buffeting, as if I was moving through an area of atmospheric turbulence."
"Hmmm. I see no record of it in the initial data summary but we'll have a lot of data to look over this afternoon."
Brogan walked over to Eddi and examined him. Up close, the robot seemed less threatening, or perhaps his "inner child" had finally accepted that Eddi was not a villain that had somehow jumped out of a television set in order to torment him.
"Where is the envelope that Doctor Armitage gave you?" he asked Eddi.
"I gave it to you, Detective Brogan." He swiveled his half-dome head and his eyes flashed as pointed at the briefcase lying open on the countertop. "I believe that it is right over there, in your briefcase."
Brogan grunted, and retrieved the envelope from the briefcase. He walked back to Eddi, who was currently being monitored. Armitage stopped whatever he was doing and he also walked over wearing a triumphant grin.
"You're sure this is the same envelope?" Brogan asked Eddi.
Eddi's eyes flashed as he examined it. "I am not equipped to do a quantum spectral analysis, but it appears to match the images stored in my recent memory."
Brogan glanced at Armitage and opened the envelope. He extracted the paper inside and unfolded it. Written in a large, flowing script were the words "childhood crush on Miss Bodell".
Armitage practically jumped up and down with excitement! "Yes!" he exclaimed. "We've done it Eddi! We sent you to the past AND we interacted with it in a meaningful manner!"
His exuberance dampened somewhat when he saw the hard expression on Brogan's face. "Well, Detective. I hope that YOU, at least, are convinced!"
Brogan looked at the paper and carefully folded it and placed it back in the envelope. He walked across the room and placed it into the briefcase. Turning back towards Armitage, he leaned on the counter with his arms crossed and his face inscrutable.
"I'm afraid that you HAVE convinced me, Doctor Armitage".
"You're afraid...?" A puzzled expression crossed Armitage's face, to be replaced by a look of concern.
"You didn't come here about releasing the excavation."
Brogan inclined his head slightly and remained otherwise stone-faced.
"That's correct. I came here about the matter of Professor Jonas Clark."
Brogan removed the folder from the briefcase and placed it on the counter. He flipped it open and slid it a few inches towards Armitage. Some typed sheets of paper and a handful of photographs were visible.
"While it's true that Jonas Clark died during the first few days of the invasion, it wasn't the Rikti invaders that killed him."
He paused for effect, and then looked Armitage straight in the eye.
"Jonas Clark was murdered."
For the first time since they had met, Brogan saw Armitage visibly shaken. Murdered? asked Armitage, disbelievingly. How can you know that?
I know it because Im a policeman and criminal investigation is what we do. Dont you watch CSI?
Armitage shook his head as if a bit of sand had gotten into his mental gears and a good rattling might dislodge it.
Im sorry, Detective Brogan. This is a shock. He glanced over at Eddi, whose face was incapable of showing any true expression at the news. If he was feeling anything, he was apparently waiting patiently to hear Brogans explanation of his statement.
Brogan took a few steps over towards where Armitage stood, sliding the folder along the counter with his fingers. He deliberately stood close enough to Armitage to make him uncomfortable, and picked up one of the photos.
It was a picture of an unusual looking handgun. The pistol resembled a Luger, but the barrel was somewhat longer and there were baffles on the side of the barrel that appeared designed to vent exhaust from the firing chamber.
Have you seen one of these before?
Armitage blanched, and gripped the side of the countertop with his left hand. His right worked spasmodically for a moment. Abruptly, he nodded.
Its a Wes and Smithson .48 caliber, nicknamed the Treborn Facilitator. I used to own one.
Brogan arched an eyebrow. You used to own one? Where is it now?
Its in a locked box at the bottom of the closet of my home. Armitage looked up at Brogan, and the worry in his eye was palpable. My real home, in Baumton of the year 2025.
Baumton? Armitage snorted. You realize that Baumton is a gigantic blast zone, dont you?
Only for another five years, retorted Armitage. Brogans accusatory tone had finally triggered some kind of self defense mechanism in him and he was regaining some of his composure.
Brogan nodded imperceptibly. Despite being shaken, Armitage was sticking to his story. Whatever else he is, hes consistent, he thought sardonically.
"This unusual gun was recovered near Clarks' remains. The design is like nothing on the market today. Would you care to guess what manufacturing date is stamped on it?"
"2015," said Armitage dully.
"That's right," agreed Brogan. "There's also no such gun manufacturer as 'Wes and Smithson'."
"There won't be for another four years," replied Armitage. "The name was a sort of a joke. I remember an interview with the founders who claimed they would have chosen a more conventional name if they'd realized how successful they would become."
"There were two cartridges recovered from the scene." Brogan indicated another of the photos. "Clark was killed by a single shot to the head, fired at close range. Judging by the positions of the remains, he might have been pinned under a cave-in of what was then a parking garage."
Armitage nodded. "I did a fair amount of research into the ruins before arranging for the excavation. I was aware of its previous use."
Brogan frowned. "If he was pinned, it's a bit of mystery as to why two shots were fired." Watching Armitage speculatively, he said "What we do know, is that the shots were fired AFTER the cave-in. There were no other human remains, so it's something of a mystery how the murderer got into the 'cavern' and back out again."
After a pregnant pause, Brogan said, "At least it seemed mysterious until this afternoon." He waved at the command console. "Your machinery is based on Clark's designs. You have his robot. The Institute will have your patents and you'll be fabulously wealthy and influential if you can make it work reliably."
"You just spent the last twenty minutes handing me the means, motive and opportunity on a silver platter."
Surprisingly, it was Eddi that spoke up in defense of Armitage. "That is not possible, Detective Brogan. Prior to your arrival at our laboratory, we had tested the device using remote monitors only. Today is the first time we have used the transporter to move a person. "
Brogan raised an eyebrow at Eddi's reference to himself as a "person", but he let it go. "You can't be sure of that. You're a machine. How can you be certain that Armitage hasn't tinkered with your memories?"
Eddi's eyes flashed rapidly and he made a strange "uh-uh-uh" noise that sent a chill down Brogan's spine. Armitage was smiling faintly, and Brogan realized with some relief that Eddi was chuckling in amusement!
"Forgive me, Detective Brogan. With all due respect to Doctor Armitage, his skills lie in other areas. If he was to attempt to erase my memories, he would be more likely to destroy my brain entirely."
Eddi sketched one of his half-bows towards Armitage. "No offense intended, Doctor Armitage"
"None taken, Eddi," said Armitage with a fully fledged smile now.
That smile vanished as he turned back to the matters at hand. Motioning towards the photos on the countertop, he asked, "How did you connect this pistol to me, Detective?"
Brogan smiled grimly. "Your fingerprints." He held up a sheet of paper that showed the prints in question.
As Armitage examined the forensic report, his face clouded over. "I don't understand. Why do the police even have my fingerprints recorded?"
"It's standard procedure when a John Doe is picked up and transfered to Skyway Psychiatric," replied Brogan. He looked over to Eddi. "Your 'associate' here hasn't always been playing with all of his marbles."
He'd prepared himself for the needling to provoke a strong reaction from Armitage. He was surprised and mystified when Armitage looked over at Eddi and broke into a big grin.
Okay, whats going on? Why is that funny?
Armitage coughed and looked serious again. Do you know the circumstances of my brief visit to Skyway Psychiatric Hospital, Detective?
I have the report here. Brogan picked up a sheaf of pages from the folder and glanced over them. You were found wandering the streets with a suitcase of electronic devices. You were disoriented and apparently amnesiac. When you were coherent at all, you told at least three people that your name was Sam, that you were a time traveler, and that you had an invisible friend named Allan or Albert. After a night in the city jail, the authorities transferred you to Skyway for psychiatric evaluation.
Brogan looked at Armitage over the top of the pages he held. For his part, Armitage was listening attentively, with no sign that he was dissembling or uncomfortable with the topic.
Three days later, you spontaneously regained your senses. Brogan frowned as he read the paper. Your, ah, roommate said that you had been hit by lightning right before you became yourself again. He seemed to think that the restoration of your faculties had something to do with you speaking to his step-son on the telephone and convincing the step-son to reconcile with his step-father.
He snorted cynically. It sounds like something youd write a bad TV show about.
Armitage shrugged. I dont remember much about that period. I was literally running for my life when I activated the transporter I had built. It was barely a prototype and there were, shall we say, side effects
Brogan listened skeptically as Armitage told his tale. When the second invasion came, they were everywhere and it was the most brutal thing Id ever seen. The first invasion was a picnic by comparison.
With a shudder, he turned horror-struck eyes to Brogan. There was no quarter. There was no mercy. There was only death on every side. They were following some kind of scorched earth policy and they had the weapons to make it happen. I literally watched the city melt and burn before my eyes. It was as if they had no lesser goal than to eliminate all trace of mankind from the face of the Earth.
With only moments to act, I packed up every important piece of equipment I could carry, along with data on some experiments that I had at hand. I had already been toying with them as useful ways to establish a grubstake if I ever got brave enough to try leaping to a new time. Circumstances forced me into making it into more than a daydream.
The building began to crumble into dust around me as I activated the machine and leapt into the portal. My last sight of my own time was the platoon of Rikti soldiers that had broken down the walls and were casually laying waste to the laboratory and everything it contained.
Lets say I accept that for the time being," said Brogan. "What happened when you arrived in this time?
I dont really know. The trip through the portal had deleterious effects upon my nervous system. Youre familiar with the idea of an electro-magnetic pulse, and the effect it has on electronic equipment?
Brogan nodded and said nothing. He had retrieved his pen and notepad and was busily taking notes on Armitages statement.
The human nervous system is a kind of bio-chemical electrical system, said Armitage. The portal had Swiss-cheesed my brain in a manner similar to the scrambling that an E/M pulse would cause to a computer network. I was out of my mind for several days, as your report says.
He paused with a furrowed brow. Mainly, I remember a blue room and being asked innumerable questions by someone named Ziggy, most of which I was unable to answer.
A strange look crossed his face. I went back there some time later, after I had established myself. They were very forthcoming about my treatment, but they denied having anyone with that name on their staff, and a tour of the facility showed me that there was no blue room to be interrogated in.
With a resigned shrug, he said, It was probably a delirium-induced fantasy. I might have heard a jail guard make a reference to Zigursky Penitentiary and simply incorporated it into the delirium.
Brogan wrote a few more notes and placed the notepad into his inside coat pocket. So, if I understand you correctly and more to the point I believe youre being truthful, I should conclude that you couldnt leap through the time door to commit a murder because youd be incapacitated when you arrived?
Thats it, exactly. Armitage waved his hand to indicate the odd belt that Eddi had strapped around his waist. We actually solved the problem of the portal some time ago. The true challenge has been designing a shield against the effects of the time traveling.
What you witnessed today was the very first test of the shield by a sentient being.
And this prototype shield? Why couldnt you use it to commit the murder?
Eddi answered. The shield is not yet fully refined, Detective Brogan. Your nervous system has no backup systems, so to speak. It is safe for me to use because my nervous system is comprised of innumerable parallel neural networks that are able to compensate for each other when one or more of them fails.
Pointing to one of the computer readouts on a nearby desk, he said, As you can see, the trip was not without its dangers, even for me. Brogan could not make heads or tails of the data on the computer screen, but he nodded sagely anyway just to keep Eddi talking. The shield was effective, but only because my internal systems were able to compensate for the interference from the temporal realignment and reboot the damaged portions of my central nervous system.
His head swiveled between Armitage and Brogan. If a bio-chemical life form such as yourself or Doctor Armitage had attempted the trip, the most probable outcome would have been that you were rendered unconscious for an extended period of time, coupled with a slighter version of the disorientation suffered by Doctor Armitage after his trip through his original time portal.
Brogan crossed his arms and shook his head. Thats a great story except for the part where I happened to stumble in here just in time to witness your first test of this supposed time shield. Thats a pretty big coincidence.
With a frown, Armitage began walking across the room towards what appeared to be a moderately-sized laptop computer. He beckoned Brogan to follow him and Eddi trailed along with them.
One thing I know, Detective There are no coincidences.
Armitage placed his hand on the device and he took on the tone and carriage that Brogan had learned to associate with lecturing professors back in his college days.
This quantum analyzer is one of a handful of tools that survived my arrival in this version of Paragon City. Armitage opened the laptop, but instead of positioning the display panel vertically, he laid it out flat on the tabletop. He pressed a button on the side of the device and the display panel lit up.
Brogan had stepped forward in order to read the display panel. He stepped back again in amazement when it began blinking rapidly and a three-dimensional image appeared, hovering some six inches above the display panel. He whistled appreciatively.
A holographic display? he asked.
In essence, replied Armitage with an amused smile. Brogan reached towards the image and it flickered as his hand passed through it. It appeared to be a cube, roughly twenty-four inches on a side. Within the cube, it seemed as if a swarm of fireflies had been caught and preserved, twinkling in place. Some were larger than others were, and some glowed bright while others were dim. At the center of the cube, a huge cluster of the lights seemed as if they might be merging into a single giant firefly.
Brogan examined it, fascinated in spite of himself. It looks like a picture of a distant galaxy, like the ones taken by the space telescopes.
Thats an apt description, agreed Armitage. He extracted a stylus from a slot in the control pad and traced the tip of the stylus through a series of the lights, beginning from a dim one near the outer edges, to a bright one nearby, and on to the galactic cluster in the center of the cube. A red line appeared between each of the lights he touched, tracing a path from the outside to the inside.
"This is a representation of Reality, or a part of it, at least. You could reasonably call it a temporal map." He indicated the cluster burning brightly at the center of the cube. "This is a point in time that we want to affect. The map shows all of the points where the 'cosmic equilibrium' can be shifted."
He pointed at the outermost endpoint of the line he had drawn. The very end was a dim 'firefly', while the next point in line was burning very brightly in comparison.
"The brightness indicates the probability of shifting the balance. The size of the cluster indicates in a rough way the number of events that need to be changed in order to effect a change in the outcome of the target event."
"Why are there fewer lights around the outside, but so many of them are brighter than the inner ones?"
"I suppose," said Armitage, "that you could consider that to be the butterfly effect. A single change can have a greater effect over a period of time than many changes over a short period of time, if that single change is the the correct kind of event."
The professional once more, Brogan shrugged skeptically. "How does this relate to my coincidentally arriving for your first test?"
With a cryptic look at Brogan, Armitage pointed at the dim endpoint of the red line. "This was the target of our initial test of the temporal realignment shield. We chose it for convenience. It was nearby in time and apparently low potential, promising an ability to measure the results reasonably accurately."
"You could say that you arrived just in time because we were aiming for you. There was nothing accidental about it."
Brogan blinked. "You're saying that blip represents my visit to the lab?"
"That is what I believe. YOU are the fulcrum at the base of that temporal shifting opportunity."
Im not sure that I buy all this, said Brogan. I really dislike the idea that there was some sort of fate involved and that YOU were the one who determined that fate.
Armitage murmured sympathetically. I suppose I might feel the same way. Its rather like being told that someone else is controlling the threads of your existence.
With a wave towards the open briefcase, he said, Giving you the note from the future may have been more important than I realized. Perhaps, if you had never received the note, you would have dismissed the ideas weve been discussing and either arrested me or left here convinced that that I am delusional. He sighed and his shoulders drooped. You wouldnt be the first.
Brogan allowed himself a grain of sympathy for the scientist as he considered his next step. If I had known how this day was going to shake out, Id have just stayed in bed, he thought sourly to himself. I wonder if Armitage can point his machine at my bedroom and send someone back to turn off the alarm clock?
Aloud, he said, The point of all this is to change past events, correct? At Armitages confirmatory nod, he continued, Theres still the issue of paradox. How can you change events and avoid it?
You dont avoid it, replied the scientist. Indeed, you embrace it!
I dont understand. Suppose I jump into your time door and shoot my father before he can conceive me. Ill cease to exist because I was never born, and then my father wont die because I wasnt conceived to threaten him. Paradox.
Armitage raised both hands in a semi-circular motion that encompassed the room. Everything you think of as Real is a result of a quantum reaction at equilibrium. That equilibrium establishes itself according to the same laws that govern the physical world. Entropy still works its magic on the Universe, even at the micro-cosmic levels. The Universal reaction tends towards the lowest viable quantum energy state.
A consequence is that when the reaction shifts, it shifts just enough to accommodate the new state of affairs. If a paradox results, then the Universe simply incorporates it into the new equilibrium by generating just enough supporting reality to stabilize the new quantum energy levels.
In your example, your father would die and you would cease to exist, but that is where it would end. Your father would stay dead because the new equilibrium would essentially create you out of nothing for the ten seconds required to kill your father, and then dissolve you back into nothing afterwards.
Thats outlandish! shouted Brogan vehemently.
Not at all, replied an unperturbed Armitage. Its a consequence of the model. Essentially, your ghost would have killed your father. In fact, Ive written a paper recently that seeks to explain a significant number of supernatural phenomena, ghosts for example, as being this sort of remnant from a previous shift in the fabric of Reality.
I really dislike the idea that someone may have already been mucking about with the past so that they can change the future!
It would be foolish to assume that I am the first, said Armitage. Any number of people throughout the continuum of time and space may have made the same discoveries as I have. How would you point to any one of them and say He was first!, when every one may have unintentionally influenced all of the others? "
In fact, it seems likely that periodic shifts would occur naturally to one extent or another. Timequakes, if you will.
Brogans head was spinning. Youre saying that Reality can spontaneously alter itself! It sounds completely nonsensical!
Armitage patted him on the shoulder. That, he said, is because, like most people, you expect the Universe to be a sensible place in which to live.
With an irritable shrug, Brogan stomped over to where the folder lay open and gathered up the contents. He snapped the folder closed, tossed it into the briefcase, and slammed the case shut. With his back to the scientist and the robot, he took a deep breath, held it for five seconds, and exhaled slowly. When he turned around, he was the picture of calm inscrutability again.
"If I believe all of this then I don't see any alternative than to upgrade you from nutcase to murder suspect."
Armitage paled slightly, but remained resolute. "If you believe what I've told you Detective, then you must also believe that I'm innnocent, or at least that I haven't yet commited this crime that you suspect me of committing. Do you think that you could convince a jury to convict me on the basis that I MIGHT commit this crime at some unknown point in the future?"
"This is Paragon City," said Brogan. "I wouldn't take it for granted just what a panel of jurors would be prepared to accept. After that Madame Futura incident last year concerning the death of Senator Anderton, there's a group of 'concerned citizens' that want a psychic attached to the police force to try and arrest criminals BEFORE they commit their crimes. You'd be surprised at some of the people who think it's a good idea."
With a frustrated growl he began pacing a path a around the lab in a path that was roughly five feet square. He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair as he considered how to handle a situation that wasn't covered in any training manual he'd ever read.
Eddi raised a claw and flashed his eye lenses in preparation to saying something, but Armitage placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. Together, they waited to see what the detective would decide.
Brogan spoke as he paced. "The machine can only move through time, not space. Why did you choose that particular place for your 'experiment'?"
Armitage shrugged helplessly. "It's not my choice, Detective. That is the place where the balance is in question." He indicated the cluster glowing at the center of the time map. This is a map of the events leading up to the Rikti invasion of 2025." He touched the extraordinarily bright "firefly" that connected to the dimmer one that represented the point in time about one hour previous.
The fires of certainty burned nearly as brightly in Armitage's face as the "galaxy" in the time map. "This point in time is a fulcrum point. Somehow, it's possible to influence the cosmic balance and perhaps eliminate the invasion entirely!"
"You're certain of that?" asked Brogan, skeptically.
"No, of course not," said Armitage holding his hands up in a gesture of supplication. "Some events seem to have a kind of inevitability about them, as if Reality requires a certain kind of event at a certain place and time. My hope is that it can be stopped. My fear is that it can only be changed into some other catastrophe, or changed only in ways that are unimportant in the context of preserving the existence of humanity."
Pausing by the control console, Brogan put his right hand to his forehead. Looking at the floor, he asked, "What date does that blip correspond to?"
Armitage looked away, and his hands dropped to his side.
"May 23, 2002," he replied.
"Of course it does!", thought Brogan. He resumed his pacing and spoke as he walked.
"That's the day that Clark died. There are no coincidences. You told me that, Armitage."
The scientist shrugged helplessly, but made no comment.
"You're correct about the evidence," said Brogan as he paced. "I could arrest you and hold you for 72 hours." He waved his hands to indicate the building they stood in. "This institute has some high-priced lawyers, I'd guess, and you'd be free on bail in a day, two at most. If it went to court, any decent attorney would pick it apart." He scowled at the floor as if it might open up and reveal the answers he sought if he could only intimidate it enough.
"There IS another option, Detective."
Brogan snorted derisively. "I'd be a fool to let you anywhere near that excavation, knowing what I know!"
"Hear me out," said Armitage. "Each of us wants to know what happened in that cavern. The best way to clear my name is show you the actual events." He placed his hand on Eddi's shoulder. "I wouldn't be the one investigating. You already know that I'm unable to make the transition to the past, and you wouldn't trust me in any case. Eddi, however, is both capable and trustworthy. Clark was his creator. His interests, if any, would be to rescue Clark, not to harm him!"
Brogan stopped in front of Eddi and looked at him penetratingly. He was skilled at "reading" people. It was one of the traits that made him a successful investigator. "I never thought I'd be trying to read the lie in the eyes of a machine!", he grumbled to himself.
He looked into Eddi's eyes and steeled himself to ignore the evil, Jack'o'Lantern grin that was permanently pasted across his face. "Eddi, what is your relationship to Doctor Armitage?"
Eddi's eyes flashed disturbingly fast as he answered, "I'm not sure I understand the question, Detective Brogan. Doctor Armitage is my friend and associate. He rescued me when I'd been lost in storage for years."
"Do you have free will? Does he own you?"
Eddi paused for a few seconds, then asked in a puzzled voice, "Are you asking whether I am a slave?"
Brogan sighed in exasperation. "Eddi, from my admittedly uninformed point of view, you are a machine, like a toaster or a desktop computer. You clearly think of yourself as an individual, but do you actually exercise the rights of an individual? Can you leave here whenever you want? Are you free to behave in any manner you wish, regardless of the wishes of Doctor Armitage?"
Eddi twisted his head left and right. "I believe I understand now." He lifted a claw towards Armitage. "Doctor Armitage is my employer, if you like. He supplies me with power and some basic maintenance that I require, and I assist him with his work. Particularly, the work related to Professor Clark's computer designs, which I understand on a level that he is not equipped to understand."
"Doctor Armitage has never attempted to coerce me into taking any action against my will. As I mentioned earlier, he does not possess the skills to modify my programming in order to do so without my knowledge."
Brogan frowned, but continued to listen. So far, his instincts were telling him that the robot was being truthful as far as he saw things.
"If I decided to leave the Institute, Doctor Armitage would not prevent me, nor could he." His eyes flashed and he made the 'uh-uh-uh' noise. "In fact," he said, "I believe that, far from discouraging me, he would arrange to track my progress and publish a book about his findings!"
Armitage blushed and Brogan allowed himself the ghost of a smile.
He came to a decision. Turning to Armitage, he pulled a card from a case in his jacket pocket and handed it to him. "I'm not going to arrest you. Yet." He emphasized the word "yet". "This is my contact information. I want you to email me everything you know about Eddi. I'll be doing a background check on you as well."
He looked at the time machine and shook his head. "I don't know how I'm going to sell this to Captain Brown, but I'll see to it that you're allowed to set up your equipment." Armitage practically squirmed with excitement, much to Brogan's amusement. "I'll have officers there to make sure that nothing funny happens while you're setting up your rig, and I'll be personally supervising the investigation."
"Thank you, Detective Brogan!" cried Armitage, joyfully.
"Don't thank me, yet," replied Brogan. "If Eddi finds that your fingerprints are on that gun because you pulled the trigger, I'll have you in handcuffs so fast that you won't have time to wonder whether it's a 'future version' of you or something that the Universal Cosmic Reaction created out of the quantum soup!"
"Quantum foam!" corrected Armitage, distractedly. He was already mentally making a list of the equipment he would need. He winked at Brogan, his prior worries forgotten. "We're going to make scientific history, Detective!"
Brogan shook his head and picked up his briefcase. "It's going to be a helluva story the next time I'm in Philly!" he said as he excused himself and returned to the station house.
May 23, 2002
Jonas Clark gasped as the crushing weight lifted from his chest and he could breathe again. The excruciating pounding in his head overrode the screams and explosions in the distance. The monsters were far away, in the light, while he lay in the darkness, unmoving.
Rats! he thought, panic-stricken, as a rustling occurred in the darkness. Images of every horror movie he'd ever seen played across the film screen of his imagination. The sound stopped, though, to be replaced by voices speaking near him. Hello? he called.
There was no response. Moving experimentally, he discovered that he couldnt feel his legs or move his body below his waist. He dared to lift his head and the agony of his injured spine lanced through his entire being. He fainted.
Some indeterminable time later, he heard voices again, but he saw only the fevered visions of pain-filled delirium. Sam Weizak sat across the table from him. Is this why you summoned me here, Jonas? To ask me this question? Weizak held a pistol in his hands and caressed it lovingly.
Clark tried to reply and only succeeded in licking dry lips. Of course, I would kill him, Jonas. Wiezak pointed the pistol at Jonas head. Skol! he said.
Skol! agreed Jonas. There was a thunderous crash, followed by sweet oblivion.
[u]June 21, 2007[u]
The station house clock claimed that the hour was 11:15am by the time that Brogan had cleared the last of the hurdles placed in front of the investigation. Brogan knew as well as any police officer that appearances were often misleading, but the people running the Titor Institute had insisted that they supported Armitage absolutely.
Professor Connor had likewise insisted on his good character. Brogan had phoned her the day before. Holsten? she had asked, unbelievingly. You must be mistaken! Shed laughed and added, Hes perfectly harmless! His work is his world, and his obsession, but hes never been obsessed with fame or money. In fact, Ive published two papers in which his research and tutelage was instrumental, but he insisted that I take full credit for them. If there was ever a man less concerned with fame or notoriety, I havent met him!
That had at least weakened the idea of fame as a motive for murder. After Brogan had spent some time convincing the Captain and the Prosecutors office to take the idea of a temporal crime scene investigation seriously, they had outlined a series of requirements and then given their tentative approval.
Captain Brown stopped by Brogans desk just as Brogan hung up a call to Armitage, giving him clearance to proceed with the setup of his equipment. Coffee in hand, he said, Listen, Jose. This isnt quite the most hare-brained scheme Ive ever heard about during my career in Homicide, but its right up there in the top ten.
The older police officer shook his head in perplexity. This all sounds almost too safe. You keep an eye on this Armitage and if anything feels the least bit funny, you shut it down right then. He looked Brogan in the eyes meaningfully, leaned forward and said, quietly, No matter what it takes.
Brogan looked right and left, and then nodded imperceptibly. Dont worry, Captain. I intend to make damned sure that nobody goes tampering with evidence or with the Cosmic Equilibrium.
Captain Brown nodded, rapped distractedly on Brogans desk with his knuckles and turned away. He took two steps, and then looked back over his shoulder. I have a feeling, he said, that this is going to be one of those investigations that we put into the special file and pull out once in a while to read over accompanied by a bottle or two of Johnny Walker. He chuckled mirthlessly, lifted his cup to Brogan, and walked into his office, shutting the door behind him.
(( The serial format normally doesn't appeal to me for publishing one of my stories. My Inner Editor insists that the story be completed, edited, spell-checked, and revised a dozen times before making it public.
With NaNoWriMo coming, my Inner Editor is going to need to take a vacation for awhile. *heh* This story has been sitting around half-finished for a while now. I've decided to post it here serially as an exercise in writing on the fly instead of revising, revising, revising.
Should you, gentle reader, feel inclined to comment then feel free to comment here in the story thread.))