Chapter 1 - The cable man cometh

 

    Uri fell back into the armchair, skillfully managing not to spill a drop of scotch that half filled the large glass tumbler. Half inebriated, he rummaged in the cushion underneath himself for the remote control for the television. He scanned the channels for something to catch his attention, anything to distract him from remembering, reminding him, of his present situation. History Channel; Hitler again; that bastard. What was the fascination that television producers had with Hitler? It disgusted him. It was as if they harbored a secret  desire for his return. His mother had survived the concentration camps as a child, her parents, brothers and sisters had their lives callously cut short in the gas chambers. It was not what God wanted. God, what God? Where was God when he needed him. Flick, another channel, Discovery, wilde-beast mating, animal porn, thought Uri. Flick, a shopping channel. Flick, another shopping channel. Flick, local news, A pile up on the freeway. The heli-cam had a birds eye view of the accident. Multi car pile up, the banner on the bottom of the screen said there were five people dead. Uri wondered if someone kept score on the dead and did they get paid to do it? Another automobile accident not far from where his wife and young child were slaughtered by an over worked underpaid truck driver who fell asleep at the wheel. Uri’s mind drifted as if a combination of dementia and self pity were setting in. His physical appearance had aged ten years in the last three months, his dark curls turning grey, his face only occasionally shaven.

    The phone rang, He tilted over the handset to see the rabbi’s number, he let it ring out. A moment later it rang again. Again it was the rabbi. He let it ring out. He flicked through a few more channels, while sipping his scotch. He found a science channel with a feature on astronomy and began to watch it. It was all a bit childish for him. He knew the distances between stars, the speed and direction they travelled in, how to program a telescope to see the farthest objects in space. He mumbled a curse on NASA for cutting his funding at the university.

    ”Fuck every last one of them!“ He said raising his glass in a toast to the television.

    The phone rang again. He snapped.

    ”You call me again and I’ll convert to Islam, hear me. Do ya hear me? I’ll become a Muslim, or a Christian, anything to stop you phoning me.”

    ”Excuse me sir, I’m looking for professor Uri Moeller. Have I got the right number?” said the officious voice on the other end of the line.

    “Who is this?” Uri asked, realizing it was not the rabbi.

    “My name is David Fleischer. I am head of security for the Vasselle corporation. I’ll be calling to your door in about five minutes Professor Moeller.”

    “This is not a good time.” Uri slurred.

    “Five minutes professor.” said the voice, then the phone went dead.

    ”Vasselle?”    What did the world’s largest communications company want with him? Desperately trying to sober up, he looked at the mess his house was in. He groaned helplessly. It was too late to tidy the place up.

    Two Hummers pulled up on the street outside. A number of men exited the vehicles taking defensive positions. David Fleischer stepped purposely up the path to the steps and onto the front porch. Finger poised on the button, the door creaked opened, the disheveled university professor looked through the crack in the opened door allowed by the security chain.

    ”What do you want? I paid my phone bill last month.”

    David Fleischer smiled.

    ”I am not here about your phone bill, but I am sure Mr. Vaselle will be delighted to hear you are a customer.”

    ”Then what do you want?”

    ”I don’t know exactly, but when Mr. Vaselle summons someone, they usually come, without question.”

    ”Leonard Vaselle wants to see me?“ said Uri, his voice full of awe and concern.

    ”Exactly!”

    “Why?”

    ”I don’t know but you can be sure it will be worth your while.”

    ”When does he want to see me?”

    ”Now.”

    ”Now? No, not now! I’m on sick leave. I’m not well. I’m on medication. I’m...”

    ”You have five minutes to pack your bag professor Moeller, then we have to make the plane.“Fleischer was insistent.

    ”Plane?“ squealed Uri, ”Just where the hell are you taking me?”

    ”Berne!”

    ”Switzerland?! No! I’m not going. I don’t like flying. I’m not going anywhere with you...”

​

Chapter 2 - Old enemies align

 

    One hour later Uri was sitting on the privately owned Vasselle Airbus clutching a scotch. The moon illuminated the blanket of cloud five thousand feet below them. Scattered around the luxurious liner were other individuals. Some sat alone, others in small groups of two or three. Some of the faces were familiar to Uri. He knew them from articles they had published in the science journals with their cheesy photographs. Since NASA cut his funding he no longer subscribed to the publications any more. It just hurt him to see others continue his research. Uri felt consigned to the reference pages of other scientists materiel, a washed up has been, an also ran. A reference point for others who would succeed where he failed.

    ”Better catch some sleep.“ said Fleischer tossing him a blanket, rescuing him from his own thoughts that dragged him into a deep and deeper depression with every trip.

    Spreading the blanket down the length of his body, he eyed up Fleischer  who was opening a laptop on the table opposite him.

    ”Now that you have me on board the plane, perhaps you can extend me the courtesy of telling me what this is all about?“ Asked Uri.

    ”Wish I knew. I’m just head of Mr. Vasselle’s personal security. I do what I’m told.”

    ”Personal security? You mean body guard.”

    ”Yes. I take care of Mr. Vaselle, his wife and three children, and anyone else he asks me to.”

    ”Does that include abducting people too?“ said Uri.

    ”Abducting? More like rescuing, in your case Professor Moeller.”

    ”Rescuing me? What do you know about me, my life?”

    Fleischer tapped the keys on his laptop, waited for a few seconds.

    ”Born Uri Efron Moeller in Minnesota in fifty five. Went to college there, got a scholarship to study astrophysics in California Institute of Technology, specialized in astrodynamics, top of the class. You were headhunted by several companies but chose to join the air force in ’81. You quit the air force after nine years. Joined a defense contractor before going to NASA five years later. Two years ago you took a lecturing post back in CIT…“ Fleischer tapped a few more keys on the keyboard. ”…You got married to Lori Prendergast in 86, divorced five years later, no children. Married Eva Glazner ten years ago, one son Joshua, they…”

    “ You have a file on me?“ excalimed Uri astonished.

    ”Actually no, we don’t. I just got all that off google.“ said Fleischer rotating the lap top on the table for Uri to see. Uri gave a wry smile.

    “You’re talking to man who has had to be dragged into the twenty-first century screaming. I’m not a technophobe. I am used to working with computers, just not the internet.”

    ”There’s a contradiction in there somewhere.” said Fleischer.

    ”Tell me about you. Your name; Fleischer is German, right?’ inquired Uri.

    ”My grandfather was German. My father was born in Arizona.“ said Fleischer.

    ”My family were German too. Tell me about him, your grandfather?“ said Uri.

    ”My Grandfather?“ Said Fleischer suspiciously.

    ”Yes, tell me about him. Why he came to America. I am assuming he did?” said Uri, seemingly trying to make harmless conversation. Fleischer seemed to hold his breath considering his words carefully.

    ”My grandfather came to America with Von Braun on the rocket program in forty six. He was an engineer. He married my grandmother an officer in the U.S. navy in Phoenix and raised my dad and his two brothers there.” Said Fleischer almost cutting himself off.

    Uri thought for a moment, his eyes rolling around their sockets like reels on an old computer. His hands joined as if in prayer, forefingers tapping his lips.

    ”My mother survived Belsen. My grandparents and uncles did not.”

    Fleischer stared across the table at the man wondering where this was going, Uri tapping his lips in a kind of pensive meditation.

    ”Life is strange isn’t it? Here I am the son of a holocaust survivor and you the grandson of a Nazi. And here we are, sitting across the table from one another in the plane of the richest man in the world, going to do god knows what. Its bizarre, isn’t it?”

    ”My grandfather was not a Nazi. Neither was Von Braun. But when you put it like that it does sound strange but our meeting is possible through learning from the mistakes that we as human beings have already made in the past. We must put the past behind us and learn from it both as victors and losers. Only when we have made all the mistakes; and hopefully we have made the worst of them; then we will all co exist together regardless of color or creed.”

    ”Aren’t you a little young to be an idealist?”

    ”You’re not old enough to be so cynical.”

    Uri raised his glass of scotch in a toast to Fleischer.

    ”Good health! Good Night!“ He said before draining the last of the liquid and going to sleep.

​

Chapter 3 - Vaselle

 

    ”I’d like to thank you all for coming here.“ said Vaselle, clapping his hands. ”I am sure you are all wondering why I have called upon you at such short notice but all will be revealed in a few minutes time. First I would like to welcome you all to the Vaselle institute. An institution dedicated to seeking out the finest young minds and exploring their potential, hence we have one of the finest research and development facilities anywhere in the world. Outside one or two military contractors, possibly?” he added after a thoughtful pause, rapidly twiddling his thumbs over his interwoven fingers pressed against his chest.

    ”Those of you that read the newspapers know that I made my fortune from wireless communications and communications networks. Note my inflection on the importance of the word wireless.” he said holding a finger up in the air as he began to pace up and down in front of his audience. 

    ”Certain publications say I am arguably the richest man in the world but I would say that I definitely am.“ the executive said with a cheeky smile. A ripple of laughter went through the assembled entourage, some of them feeling slightly intoxicated in the presence of such a wealthy and powerful man. He continued with his introduction. 

    Uri stood with his arms folded, staring at the man coolly. He remained focused, not taken in by Vaselle’s charming speech. He wondered why this man wanted him here. He knew if he rudely interrupted, he would still not get a direct answer, more likely a soft rebuke. Uri would not give him that satisfaction. He would bide his time.

    

    Vaselle instructed them to follow him from the marbled tiled hall of the reception area through the spacious conveyor decked corridors, lined with bronze statues and marble busts of many of the greatest minds the planet had ever known. Using a swipe card they entered a large elevator, Vaselle licked his finger, placed it on a scanner while simultaneously placing his eye to a retinal scanner. 

    ”Password” intoned an automated voice.

    ”Carpé Diem! Leonard Vaselle!“ replied Vaselle.

    ”What level would you like, Mr. Vaselle?“ asked the automated voice.

    ”Sub level six.”

    ”You just used five different security protocols to use the elevator, if I am not mistaken.“ commented an English algorithmic scientist called Rushton.

    ”Six!“ Came the reply from Vaselle

    ”I counted five. Fingerprint scan. Retinal scan, voice recognition, the password and your swipe card to gain access.”

    ”I licked my finger to supply a DNA sample.“ said Vaselle.

    ”You must have something very important down here to warrant that kind of security.“ Rushton observed, but Vaselle only smiled.

 

    The doors opened into a security check in.

    ”Okay gentlemen, this is as far as it goes. If you wish to proceed any further I will need you to wear anti-bacterial overalls and sign the necessary non-disclosure agreements swearing absolute secrecy or suffer the penalty of legal proceedings, unemployment and eventual bankruptcy. What you see beyond those doors is top secret and a privilege.“ Vaselle warned the group.

    No one argued. Everybody stripped, got suited and signed the documents without reading them. The mystery was too great for them, the temptation too much.  When they were all ready, they entered. Behind the armored doors people in white suits were hurrying about their business; some on computers at workstations, some on unusual machines. Cylinders of liquid nitrogen were connected to two sets of three concentric metallic rings of about thirty feet in diameter. A thick frosted translucent pipe ran between them. Radioactive warning signs labeled the two sets of apparatus. A control room protected by thick polycarbonate glassextended the full length of the back wall, the control crew safely behind the security of the screen.

    ”Ten minutes to transmission.“ announced a voice over the tannoy.

    ”Great: we are just in time for a test. If we can have all of you in the observation gallery, I will give you a quick rundown on what we are about to do.’ said Vaselle with apparent enthusiasm.

    

    Seated in the gallery they hung on Vaselle’s every word as if he were a magician about to perform his most amazing trick.

    ”Man has always been trying communicate over great distances. Pigeons were good. The pony express, telegraph wire. Telephone has been around a long time. Then came fax, email and cell phones. We can talk wirelessly across the entire planet, send pictures, send files. In conjunction with communicating, we have always wanted to travel. First by horse, then cart or chariot. Boats, trains, automobiles and aircraft. All of them getting faster with every generation. Where has it all been leading to? Destruction of our forests, exhausting our oil reserves. The poisoning our planet with harmful toxins.

    “About ten years ago professor Oscar Andrews told me he could build a teleportation device. I thought he was mad, but he convinced me that the theory and technology were not that far apart. So I set up this institute drawing on the largest untapped pool of human resources: intelligent kids!  Kids have great imaginations. They don’t know the boundaries or the limits, they find new ways to make things work. We gave them puzzles to solve, those that succeeded got offered opportunities to continue their work here. 

    “Nine months ago we sent our first object from teleport A to teleport B. A simple one-centimeter cube of carbon. We disassembled it in one location and re-assembled it in another. We continued our transmissions gradually getting up to more complex substances and compositions. To date we have sent through only mineral-based objects, mostly composed of the basic elements. Today I believe we are sending through our first vegetable; a strawberry!”

    A member of the technical team climbed a mobile gantry and placed a good size strawberry on the platform at the centre. The gantry was then taken away to safe distance and secured.

    Rushton attempted to ask a question. A number of other questions flooded over Rushton’s as each in their own field wondered how they overcame the various obstacles they understood to be in the way of teleportation as the shock of Vaselle’s speech gave way to a cacophony of protest.

    ”One minute to transmission.“ announced a voice over the speaker.

    ”Ladies and gentlemen, I must warn you of the flash. There is a bright flash as we vaporize the object before reassembling it in teleport B. You will find goggles in the seat in front of you, please put them on.”

    ”Ten Seconds. Nine. Eight...”

    Uri raced over the possibilities for such a machine. They were far reaching. It had uses beyond transportation, like replication, cloning, medical surgery, space exploration and indeed time travel. He always did have a tendency to skip the obstacles and see the possibilities.

    ”Glasses on!“ shouted Vaselle.

    The three concentric rings of teleport A rotated slowly in different directions at different axes, gradually picking up speed, as did the three rings on teleport B. Approaching near-impossible speeds, a white light appeared at the centre of teleport A about the size of a tennis ball. It grew in size as the rings increased in speed. The rings accelerated to a blur of motion, the noise almost deafening. The air in the lab circulated now at gale force.  The lights dimmed in the building, flickering as the teleport drew on all the available energy needed to complete its task. The noise of the rings slashed the air in the room, as did the turbulence created by their violent movement. Some of the scientists clapped their hands over their ears as though afraid their eardrums would burst.

    A shock wave of white light emanated from teleport A and seemed to pass through every object in the room, through the protective screens, even penetrating their bodies. For a moment there was a complete and stunning silence, as if the crescendo of noise had risen above the levels perceptible to the human ear. Strobes of light appeared in the rings of teleport B. But the light was strange. Orbs or shock waves of light seemed to be collapsing into the centre of the Atomizer. The rings spun so fast they were nearly invisible. Then the noise returned, a cacophony of rushing wind, screaming machines and thunderous bangs all at once. Teleport A was already slowing down, Teleport B had a steady orb of white light occupying all the space within its spinning rings. As the rings carefully slowed, the orb deflated slowly down to the size of a tennis ball, a small heart shape perceptibly less luminous forming at its center. The orb faded to a ring of light, like a halo around the strawberry. 

    When the rings had ceased their motion, the lab assistant returned with the gantry, climbed the platform and carefully placed the strawberry on a plate. She brought it into the gallery chamber. Vaselle carefully picked up the strawberry, biting into it. He chewed the flesh, his somber face breaking into a smile of satisfaction.

    ”I guess I just ate the evidence.”

    The assembled men of science erupted anew into an onslaught of questions. How? When? Where? What? Who?

    After some order was restored, Vaselle announced his reason for the gathering.

    ”I have a problem! I made my money from wireless communications. From there I got into credit phone and phone bank accounts. All totally wireless. That few meters of super cooled liquid conduit that connects the two teleports together cost me a billion dollars to develop. I need this to be wireless. That’s my biggest problem at the moment. It has to be wireless before it goes public!”

    ”What does professor Anderson have to say about your problem?” asked Uri.

    Vaselle eyeballed him, memorizing his face.

    ”Uri Moeller!“ exclaimed Vaselle.

    ”Correct.”

    ”Professor Anderson is my second biggest problem. He’s dead!”

    A wave of mumbling rushed across the assembly.

    ”Three months ago, Professor Anderson for some reason decided to send his wrist watch from teleport A to teleport B. We’re not quite sure what happened, but it resulted in an explosion in teleport A that ripped the device apart killing Professor Anderson and three technicians. We think the power source, the battery in the watch, reacted to the process causing the rather large explosion, not to mention a couple of hundred million dollars in damages to the devices. We only just got them up and running again yesterday. That’s why I have called you people here: to be assembled into teams and proceed with the further development of the device, to its next evolution, the wireless stage.” said Vaselle.

    Uri sat back satisfied. Vaselle had given him more information than he expected. Anderson’s curiosity killed him: he had wanted to unlock the secrets of time travel.

​

Chapter 4 - A pact with the ... devil

 

    In the breakfast room, the scientists coagulated into cliques of their respective fields of expertise. Engineers at one table, physicists at another, theorists reluctantly grouping for fear of their ideas being stolen by one another. Uri sat a table to himself wondering what the day would bring. He was pretty sure his role in this adventure would be related to space travel. 

    Fleischer entered the room, scanned the faces for Uri, found him, and made straight to his table.

    ”Mr. Vaselle would like to see you.“ Said Fleischer.

    ”Not so much as a good morning mister Fleischer?” said Uri curtly.

    ”After your breakfast, of course.“Fleischer conceded, offering a smile.

    ”I’m finished. Where are we going?”

    ”Up there!“ Pointed Fleischer out the plate glass window to the snow peaked Alps in the distance.

    The helicopter ride only took twenty minutes to reach Vaselle’s private mountain residence built on a flattened mountain peak. 

    Vaselle was on his balcony, his fingers working furiously on his laptop. Catching sight of Uri and Fleischer, he ceased, raised a finger to the interior of his residence. A shadow moved behind the polarized glass. A maid hurrying to fetch refreshment.

    ”Good morning Professor Moeller.“ said Vaselle, rising to greet him with a warm handshake.

    ”Please call me Uri, Mr. Vaselle.”

    ”Uri it is, then.” said Vaselle, though not offering the same courtesy.

    The maid promptly arrived with coffee. She poured them out, before Vaselle politely dismissed her. Uri had but a few moments to study her face. She reminded him of his late wife when she was younger. He wanted the maid to stay.

    ”I’ll come to the point Uri: I have been reading your published papers for years. Following your work. I suppose I’m a bit of a fan. What annoys many of your peers and colleagues is that you’re inclined to skip the current situation and go off in tangents without solving the present problem. In short, you get ahead of yourself.

    “I want you to do just that for me. I have hundreds of people working on my teleportation device and we will get it right eventually. But what then? I want you to work closely with the machine and the various teams assembled to overcome its problems. I want you to foresee what it will be used for. How will it be used and by whom. You have tremendous depth and understanding in your writing. A modern day Clarke or Sagan. A futurist. A prophet, perhaps. 

    Do you think you could do that for me?“

    ”I could tell you right now. How it will be used, or possibly abused.” Uri replied immediately, stirring two spoons of sugar into his coffee.

    ”Go on.”

    ”Apart from a transportation device, I think it would make an excellent medical tool. Not just a diagnostic device, but a surgical implement. Imagine, non invasive surgery removing tumors, cancerous organs and possibly infectious diseases too. A cure for cancer. Eh! Who knows, maybe it could be used beat the aging process too by regenerating cells in the human body.

    “The second application for your device is a replicator. Take a potato, disassemble it down to a molecular level then re-assemble as many of them as you want. World hunger, a thing of the past. 

    “The obvious one for me is space travel. No more risky rockets. Mars would be on our doorstep and who knows, in a short space of time, the galaxy, once we get your teleport devices out there.“ Uri waved his hands to the sky expansively.

    ”Those are the positives. What about the negatives?” asked Vaselle

    ”It’s pretty obvious isn’t it?  A weapon of war. Terrorists could teleport a nuclear bomb to any city in the world. Whole armies could be teleported. I don’t know the mechanics of your device, but if the battery of professor Anderson’s watch killed him and three of his technicians. Then what would a car battery do? What kind of power does the operation of your device draw down during its operation?”

    ”Enough to warrant a micro nuclear generator one hundred meters below the surface of the institute… something that I don’t want the Swiss authorities to find out about.“Vaselle replied blandly, sipping his coffee.

    ”Your device could be a modern day Pandora’s Box.”

    ”That’s what concerns me.”

    ”But if you don’t develop it, someone else will.”

    ”Will you work with me until we get a wireless model up and running?” Vaselle was nothing if not direct.

    ”Work? What work?”

    ”I want you to oversee the new groups of scientists and their progress, or lack of it. 

Make daily reports back to me and continue to explore the possibilities of our device.”

    ”In return for...?“ asked Uri, holding the sentence in mid-air, allowing Vaselle to finish.

    ”You’ll be well paid of course.”

    ”Money? Just because I’m a Jew, that does not make me a Shylock. Money means nothing to me. Pay me what you will. All I ask is to work on your device in a private capacity to explore other potential uses for it. I will report everything back to you.”

    ”What other uses?”

    ”I suspect professor Anderson was trying to test Einstein’s theory of relativity by sending the watch through the device. If I could access his computers, I may be able to prove that was what he was trying to do and finally prove or disprove Einstein’s theory.”

    Vaselle smiled.

    ”Professor Anderson did not always use a computer. We checked it out and there was nothing new on it that we did not already know. However; we found twenty four volumes of hand written notebooks in his apartment. He wrote in a code that we have so far not been able to identify, never mind decipher. That’s why I have Rushton here… to try and decode his writings. 

    “But regarding the relativity theory, you might be right. He may have been trying to solve another problem we are experiencing with the teleport.“ Vaselle held his breath and observed his guest speculatively, deciding whether he should divulge the next piece of information. 

     “Anytime we have tried to send an object wirelessly to the second teleport, it just disappears. We don’t know where any of the test material goes.”

    ”Disappeared, you say?“ Uri was interested.

    ”Yep! Vanished into thin air. Poof!“ said Vaselle, flowering his fingers.

    Uri struggled to hold back a wry smile. Vaselle read his expression, a skill evolved from years of acute instinct and business intuition.

    ”You have a theory.”

    “Yes, but it’s just a theory.”

    ”So was teleportation until nine months ago. What do you think happens to the objects that we try to send through wirelessly?”

    Uri began mumbling to himself, counting on his fingers with his left hand, his right hand palming, massaging his face. An occasional audible word caught Vaselle’s ear.

    ”...two months... big bang... string theory... hypothesis... Hawkins...  relativity... grand theory... everything... shift... time... space... position relative to... continuum... M theory... plausible…”

    ”What do you need and what do you want?” said Vaselle earnestly.

    Uri’s wide brown eyes fixed upon Vaselle through his fingers.

    ”Three months! One use of the teleport every second day! My pick of your institutes best students in astrophysics and mechanical engineering. A full history of what you have tested through the teleport. Access to specific satellites and certain outside resources.”

    ”You report to me every day via email on your progress. You clear with me everything you are about to do.’ said Vaselle.

    ”Of Course.”

    Uri spat on his palm, extended his hand in an old fashioned agreement. Vaselle held back, considering the hand before him momentarily before haltingly responding with the same gesture of bonded contract.

​

Chapter 5 - Fresh Purpose

 

    Uri had found fresh purpose in life. His shaved his beard, cut his hair and showered twice daily. He first commissioned a Swiss watch maker to make two wind-up stop watches, accurate to within one hundred thousandth of a second. The most difficult challenge was that they be wound simultaneously with the same winder and triggered before separation. They also had to be made from the metals specified from Uri’s list.

    Every second day he sent a different fabric or material through the teleport. Large metal objects of complex shapes and angles were sent through wirelessly. They all disappeared, much to Uri’s satisfaction. For he knew where to find them. He contacted an old colleague in an observatory in Hawaii, giving him precisely calculated locations in space to look for certain objects.

    One month into his research, Vaselle paid his office a visit. Vaselle studied the star charts on the walls of the tiny room. The scribbled annotations. Arrows and broken lines, strange astronomical symbols and others he did not recognize. Uri walked into his office not expecting Vaselle to be there, not having seen him since their breakfast one month earlier.

    ”Have you been holding out on me Uri?“Vaselle asked genially.

    ”Merely saving a surprise for you.“Uri replied, not taken off guard.

    ”I don’t like surprises.“ said Vaselle, with a touch of callous.

    ”You’ll like this one.”

    ”Better be good!”

    ”I know where you wireless transmissions and going.“ said Uri, not raising his head from the spreadsheet he was studying.

    ”You know?”

    ”Yes! Exactly as I suspected.”

    ”Where?”

    ”Into Space!”

    ”What? Where? Where in space?”

    ”In the exact same place they left it.” said Uri smugly.

    ”Back up a bit. Explain it to me. Where in space? How?”

    ”Every time you sent an object wirelessly, it was not received by the second teleport because it was not sent there. You merely suspended it.”

    Vaselle tried to comprehend what he had just said.

    ”Okay! So where did they go?”

    ”Nowhere! It is exactly where you left it.“ Said Uri.

    ”Your toying with me. Stop it now or I stop writing your cheques.“ Said Vaselle.

     ”When you disassemble an object in teleport A, you momentarily suspend or lose it in the space time continuum, so it re-assembles itself exactly where it was atomized once your teleport is powered down. ”

    ”I need more detail Uri.”

    “Your machine takes approximately two minutes and fourteen seconds to completely disassemble an object regardless of complexity of composition. That means your object is approximately two thousand five hundred miles from where you last saw it. In space. You’re not allowing for the speed and rotation of the earth in your calculations.’

    Uri handed him a file. There were photographs in it, of the complex structures Uri had commissioned. Vaselle pondered on this.

    ”So if we knew where the object was going to be, we could send it wirelessly without the need of a receiver on the other end.”

    ”Exactly!“ Said Uri.

    ”You’re a genius! When are we doing the first test?“ said Vaselle with excitement.

    ”Not so fast. It’s not an exact science finding the things we send. We can have a tolerance of where it might have gone. Where to send it is a lot riskier. We have speed and rotation of the earth, planetary precession...”

    ”You’ve done it, cracked it!“ Vaselle said excitedly.

    ”Slow down Mr. Vaselle, the last thing I want to do is send an object through only to have it appear up your ass.“ said Uri, losing patience a little. “There are laws in the universe that may need to be obeyed.”

    ”You’re right.“ Said Vaselle calming down.

    ”Projection of objects needs to be an exact science.“ emphasized Uri.

    ”You’re completely right. When do you expect to do the first test?“ said Vaselle.

    ”Not for another week. This machine of yours provides me with the most accurate data ever on the speed and course of the planet. For a successful test we need to be precise down to a billionth of a second. Anything less could be a disaster.”

    ”You’re right. We must achieve perfection.“ agreed Vaselle.

    ”Anything less could be a disaster.“ repeated Uri

    ”Tell me what you need and you have got it.“Vaselle assured him.

    ”More time on the teleport.“ said Uri.

 

Chapter 6 - Hindsight

 

    It had been three weeks since Uri and Vaselle had their meeting. Fleischer entered Vaselle’s office carrying a file. Vaselle finished his conference call as quickly as possible to make more time for his chief of security.

    ”David! How are you doing? What have you got for me?“ Said Vaselle rocking back in his chair content with the world.

    ”We may have a problem with Moeller.“ said Fleischer as he handed the file to Vaselle.

    Vaselle started to flick over the pages in the folder. Telephone and email records, photographs from cctv. Also, there was a list of items sent through the teleport and personal requests by Moeller.

    ”Most of this I know.“ Said Vaselle.

    ”Are you aware he is sending objects through the teleport, then requesting people to find them in various locations around the world?”

    ”Sort of! Sometimes he does this before he clears it with me, but he always retro-informs me. I think he likes to surprise me with results.“    

    ”I’m not that interested in the items he recovered or located after teleporting them. It’s the objects he lost. He lost two pounds of twenty four carat gold in the teleport. And several thousand dollars worth of diamonds.“ said Fleischer darkly.

    ”Not a huge fortune.”

    ”Numerous items of clothing.”

    Vaselle pulled an expression that seemed to say ‘so what?’

    ”The items of clothing had been tailor made in a nineteen thirties style.  A fedora hat, a pair of wire rim spectacles, several pairs of leather shoes, a suitcase, a German phrase book, and a replica nineteen thirties American passport he got forged in the name of one Lee Harvey Oswald born in the year eighteen eighty.”

    Vaselle spun round to his computer, rapidly clicking on a security application.

    ”Where is he now!?“ 

    ”In the teleport room preparing for his next transmission.“ said Fleischer.

    ”He is not scheduled until tonight.”

    ”The bastard is up to something. I think he’s going to jump.“Vaselle fumed, pushing out of his chair and heading for the door, Fleischer close behind him.

    ”I’ll call the guards at security to stop him.“ said Fleischer, already scrolling his phone.

    Arriving at the security desk, the guards were trying to wedge open the doors without any success.

    ”He is in there alone. He said he lost his wallet.“ said the senior security officer almost apologetically.

    Fleischer ripped the cover off the control panel attempting to short the control. The doors slid fractionally apart, allowing Vaselle and a security guard to slip in just before they closed again.

    Moeller had the two teleports activated. He was naked, kneeling in teleport A like an Elgin marble statue. A handful full of AA batteries were placed meticulously in teleport B. They were sparking, coated in static electricity.

    ”Why?!“ screamed Vaselle.

    ”Get out of here, Vaselle! This place is going to blow!“ Moeller yelled from the center of the rapidly rotating rings without raising his head or changing posture.

    The security guard pulled out his weapon.

    ”No!“Vaselle threw out an arm, stopping him from firing the gun.

    ”Why Uri? I trusted you.”

    ”I’m sorry Mr. Vaselle. I can change things. Fate has given me a chance to fix it! But your machines, they must never be used ever again. Leave now, before it’s too late.”

    The white orb appeared around Uri, growing in size.    

    ”You fool.“ said Vaselle flatly as Uri was swallowed by the orb of light.

     On the second atomizer, static electricity seemed to chase all over the spinning rings, loud crashes and clicking noise coming from it. There was no time to escape. The explosion filled the room with the white hot heat of a supernova.

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Chapter 7 - The American businessman

 Nuremburg.- Germany - Year ~ 1938

 

    Uri sat patiently with the hunting rifle on the readily positioned table in front of him. The window was open, the lace blinds gently blowing inward into the room. He surprised himself at how calm he was, considering. This last three months in Germany had given him time to work out the final details of his plan.

    He had accurately teleported himself back in time, to June nineteen thirty-eight. More precisely he had arrived at the remote location ten miles from Nuremburg, Germany; exactly to where he had sent the gold and diamonds. All he had to do was wait for them to appear. Despite sending them days before he teleported himself, he had programmed them to arrive after his arrival. A precaution against someone else finding them. First his clothes arrived, then the suitcase, followed by the gold, diamonds and passport. The white flash of electro static discharge preceded each delivery, telling him their location in the forest.

    Later in the day, he presented himself under his new identity at a pawn shop in Nuremburg with one of the diamonds; introducing himself as an American businessman on a journey across Europe to discover new business opportunities. Impressed by his apparent wealth, the pawn shop owner introduced him to a hotel owner who gave him accommodation, and an introduction to a bank manager that could safe keep his remaining diamonds and gold, allowing him immediate access to the local currency. He expressed an interest hunting wild boar and bought a rifle off the pawn shop owner whom he befriended very quickly with his apparent wealth. Every night he dined in the finest restaurants becoming something of a well known figure in the socially elite circles of Nuremburg. He bought drinks in the taverns and beer halls for all that were there, especially the NDSP party members. Nazis!

    At a remote farm owned by the hotel manager he set the sights of the weapon to the range of two hundred yards. What he estimated to be the distance Adolf Hitler’s open top Mercedes-Benz G4 W 131 would be when it stopped for him to inspect the Hitler youth as they paraded past him. Uri knew the location from his research of old photographs he had studied before he teleported. He confirmed this by asking the hotel staff where would be the best place to view the great man on the day of the annual rally. They informed him that he always inspected the troops at the annual parade through the Haupt Market. Uri requested for a change of room to give him a vantage for the best possible view of the great man. A request easily granted to the wealthy and clearly sympathetic American. 

    Everything had fallen into place very quickly and without any suspicion being aroused about him. Now the time was near. Crowds of people lined the flag-bedecked streets hoping to catch a glimpse of their Fuehrer and the passing parade. To Uri’s surprise Hitler’s convoy parked on the opposite side of the street to where he was told they would be. Fate had placed his target just below his fourth floor window. It meant Hitler’s was below him, his back facing Uri. He would have to shoot downwards at a much steeper angle. It would be a much shorter shot than the two hundred yards he had anticipated. It also meant an increased risk of exposing himself at the window. A chance he was prepared to take to change the course of history.

    The Nazi flags gently waving in the breeze fluttered outside his window, obstructing his view as they lazily wafted from side to side. He drew back the bolt of his Mannlicher rifle, sliding a round into the chamber of the rifle. Uri took aim but the waving flags distracted him, so did the nagging voices creeping into his conscious thoughts. He had never hurt anyone before in his life, now he was going to kill a man. A marching band approached in the parade below, pounding out a victorious beat. Uri thought of all the uncles and aunts he never got to know, his grandparents, his cousins all gassed to death. Their names came back to him, his mother’s voice reminding him of where they died, Belsen, Auschwitz, Dachau...

    A loud knock at the door awoke him from his distraction. Someone was calling his name. The name of the assassin “...Mr. Oswald!” It sounded urgent. He snapped around to the window, taking aim. Flicking off the safety he squeezed the trigger. The sound of the drums filled the market square covering the sound of the first shot. His target’s shoulders gave an involuntary jerk, his head flopped forward, his hands raised to his chest in reaction. Uri quickly chambered a second round with the bolt action. Squeezing the trigger, he whispered his grandfather’s name. A spray of blood and grey matter ejected from the top of his target’s skull, his hat leaping into the air in a fountain of blood and brain. The door of the hotel room burst open. Ignoring the noise behind him he chambered a third round and fired a third shot into the back of his target. He saw the flash, felt the heat. It was familiar to him, but he did not know what it meant, yet. 

 

    Uri slowly returned to consciousness. His eyelids closed, he could faintly hear the noise of people around him. He was dreaming of another assassination. An American president in an open top car, a long time ago. In the dream he was pulling the trigger.

    A sharp slap stung his cheek, making his eyes roll open as his head rocked from the blow. Smelling salts stung his nose as he was violently awoken. A man in a dark uniform stood before him, more men in white coats hover in the background. Another slap hit the other cheek, rocking his head to the other side. 

    ”Ease up there. Will you.“ said Uri still experiencing the delirium of his experience.

    The uniform asked him a question in German.    

    Uri’s senses quickly sharpened realizing for the first time he was completely restrained to a chair. His hands tied behind his back.

    ”What is your name?“  in heavily accented English.

    ”Go fuck yourself” said Uri.

    ”What is your name?“ Demanded the uniform delivering another slap that shook Uri to his complete senses.

    ”Uri Moeller and proud of it.”.     

    ”Where are you from?”

    ”Chicago.“ said Uri, studying his interrogator more carfully.

    “An American.” said the uniform with a puzzled expression ”Who sent you?“ 

    “I came by myself.”

    Another slap. 

    ”Who are you an agent for?”

    Slap! Uri’s flesh stinging him to his senses.

    ”No one! I came by myself”

    The cycle of questions started again. Before each question came a slap. Uri struggled to make sense of what was going on.     

    ”That’s enough.“ said an authoritive voice from the door. 

    Uri’s swollen eyes tried to focus on the person. Another dark uniform. Much simpler than his interrogators’. It was getting hard to focus with the swelling around his eyes. 

    ”Reverend Pabst: I have been interrogating the prisoner. I was just about ...’

    ”Leave us. Richter” said the priest sternly.

    Richter stormed out of the room, slamming the steel door behind him.

    ”I don’t understand, Where am I?“ said Uri.

    “Your in Gestapo headquarters.” said the priest.

    Uri took the opportunity to gather information on his surroundings. The room was dark except for the bright light from the lamp burning down on him from above. There were apparatus against the walls he could not make out in the dark, He knew there was activity behind him but he could not see around the high backed chair he was tied to.

    ”Why am I here?“ asked Uri, not knowing where here was anymore.     

    ”You’re here to stand trial for your crime.”.    

    ”Did I succeed in killing Hitler?” asked Uri. Suddenly he was suspicious of the chair he was tied to. Was he to be executed in it? Was it an electric chair?

    ”I’m glad you admit to it.” said the priest nodding grimly.

    Uri paused trying to frame the right question in his mind, his breathing grew rapid, he could feel his heart beating faster, blood draining from his face. He looked to the priest as if pleading for help. Uri’s head rose and fell with each breath, his chin slumping to his chest.

    “What did you give me. I think... I am going into cardiac arrest.”

    The priest clicked his fingers then snapped an order to someone behind the chair. two white coats appeared. Orders were shouted in German. The steel door opened and footsteps rushed in accompanied by the squeak of little wheels. They quickly untied his bonds, lifting him unceremoniously on to the gurney. There were more of them now. He felt the sharp sting of an intra venous needle inserted into his arm, a mask with oxygen was placed over his face. Ceiling lights flashed by as he was hurried down a corridor.

    Uri wondered what was the procedure for heart attack victims back in the nineteen thirties. Open heart surgery was not performed until the nineteen fifties, defibrillators were not commonly used until the late fifties though there were attempts in the ninteen thirties to develop one as an alternative to injecting powerful drugs straight into the heart. Uri’s eyes snapped open. There were six of them. Four white coats, the priest Pabst and his interrogator, Richter. He rolled off the gurney into the black uniform, slamming him against the wall in the narrow corridor. Uri unholstered the luger from Richter, before pushing Richter to the floor in an awkward scuffle, Richter’s face flushed with shame.

    “Don’t shoot!” said Reverend Pabst his arms raised, the medics quickly copied him.

    “Which way outta here?” quipped Uri waving the pistol at each of them in turn, frightening them. Only Reverend Pabst seemed calm.

    “Calm down mister Moeller. You cannot escape.” said Pabst composed.

    “I can damn well try. If I could kill Hitler, I can escape from here.” said Uri seething, his arms shaking with adrenalin.

    “No you can’t...” started Pabst. A small bell chimed up the door lined corridor from them. The lift doors opened, two grey uniforms stepped into the corridor. They read the situation and started to unsling their weapons. Uri swung his arm around and fired off two shots. The slugs hit the first soldier, he slumped against the second knocking him to the tiles, their weapons clattering to around them. Uri ran towards them with the pistol aimed. The soldiers were no more than boys.

    “Don’t touch it.” screamed Uri as the second soldier reached for his machine gun. Richter and Pabst were approaching him from behind, maintaining a little distance. They were pleading to Uri but their words meant nothing to him, drowned out by the heartbeat thumping in his ears.

    Quickly, he gathered up the two weapons on the floor. He shoved the Luger into his waistband, shouldered the first machine gun, then aimed the second at Pabst and Richter who promptly backed away fearing a twitchy finger. Uri slid along the corridor, his back to the wall until he entered the elevator. Once inside, the doors slid closed. He felt claustrophobic. Eyes wide with fear he studied the panel of buttons on the wall. There were a lot of them. Four columns of them, in roman numerals. Where the hell was he? The Empire state Building? What floor was he on? He pressed the number I. And waited. The lift went up. 

    Uri’s heart felt in his mouth as the doors parted. Outside was a first floor balcony about twenty feet deep, people thronged back and forth going about their business. He slung the two weapons behind his back, before daring to walk out into the masses. He took two steps out, people dressed in smart business suits immediately noticed him. Curious expressions forming on their faces as they studied him. For the first time Uri noticed he had no shoes on, his face broke into a maniacal grin. 

    The first floor lay below him. A wide marbled reception, thronged with people queueing, queueing at security checkpoints. A pretty blonde woman screamed, her hands covering her mouth as she stared straight at him. More people took notice. A alarm bell sounded. Grey uniforms were climbing the stairwells that flanked the balcony, dozens of them. People were shouting instructions, orders. They were coming for him. 

    He backed towards the elevator doors. They were closed. Pressing the call button they opened again. Stepping inside, he randomly pressed one the buttons at the top of the column. CX. This is it. He thought to himself. Glancing a look in the mirror at himself, he saw why the woman had screamed. His face was badly bruised and swollen, black and blue from Richter’s beating. It seemed like eternity before the elevator halted. The doors opened. Uri stepped out of the elevator and into the room, the machine gun ready for whatever threat lay before him. It was a corridor. A very luxurious corridor, bedecked with marble busts and works of art, the sound of Schubert wafted from one of the apartments, girls giggling and laughing; it was sound of adult frolics.

    Uri hurried around a corner looking for a means of escape. A sign above a door said TREPPE with a little jagged stairs beside it. Behind the door lay a small stairway with a door at the top. The elevator chimed around the corner. People entered the corridor, the unmistakable sound of weapons clattering against buckles, orders being issued, jack boots stomping. Here they come.

    Uri scaled the steps to the door. It resisted before sucking open, the heavy metal door swinging away from him, slamming to the wall, latching tight. Daylight poured into his swollen eyes, hurting him. He sheilded his eyes while stumbling out into the tarmac. the wind tugged at his clothes. The horizon and the sky above him were blue. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. Staggering against the wind, he made his way towards the rail. More of the view came to him. The vast expanse of the panorama. Giant dirigibles traversed the skyline. Enormous white dirigibles with Nazi insignia emblazoned upon their hulls.One of them appeared anchored to the building next to him. Uri drew a deep breath, his mind racing, so many questions chasing around his brain.

    “This is all wrong.” he said to himself, his mind reeling at the vista before him.

    Behind him about forty soldiers took their positions and aim with their weapons. Richter had been furnished with a bullet proof vest, Pabst was beside him, without one obviously putting his faith in God.

    Numb with realization, Uri turned to them.

    “Where the hell am I?”

    “Put down your weapons, slowly.” said Richter.

    “I can answer all your questions, if you will answer mine.” said Reverend Pabst. Uri studied him more closely in the daylight. There was a Nazi insignia in the centre of his clerical collar.

    “I’m standing on the top of the world trade centre. That can’t be.” said Uri.

    “Why not?” Said Pabst.

    “September eleventh, two thousand and one.” said Uri.

    “What is so significant about that date?” said reverend Pabst.

    “I did kill Hitler, didn’t I?” said Uri looking for confirmation.

    “We think you did and history seems to think so.” said Pabst.

    “You must have travelled back to get me, but why? If I succeeded in killing him, then why did you not stop me before I killed him?’ Said Uri puzzled.

    ‘Time travel carries its risks. We have lost people. Sending them is dangerous enough, getting them back is a different story. Far far riskier and more dangerous. We also have laws about time travel. We believe that we should not alter any part of our history for fear of temporal ramification. Only the Ministry of the Faith of our Fuehrer has regulation to conduct time travel.’ said Reverend Pabst.

    ‘So Hitler is dead. I succeeded.’ Said Uri relieved. His eyes flared and his heart began to race. He knew these things were true, they had to be.

    ”Yes, you did. But why did you kill him? This is what we want to know.”

    Uri chuckled to himself.

    ”I just saved the lives of fifty-five million people. Six million of them Jews.”

    Richter sneered.

    ”The Jews were annihilated in the ten year war.“  said Richter coldly.

    ”What ten year war? World War Two was from nineteen thirty-nine to forty-five. World war two never happened. Hitler is dead.“    

    ”We snatched you from thirty eight. What would you know about nineteen thirty nine, forty five or two thousand and one or any other year after nineteen thirty eight  for that matter?”

    ”I came back from two thousand twelve!’ said Uri.

    ”You travelled through time?” said Pabst curiously.

    “Yes.”

    ”Mein Gott! You came from an alternative reality.”

    ”What?“    

    ”The implications of this are enormous!”

    ”What year is this again?“ asked Uri, alarmed, fear and confusion rising inside him.

    ”On the old roman calendar, it would be two thousand and twelve. On the modern Reich calendar it is the year of our Fuehrer seventy four A.D.H.”

    ”What happened after I shot Hitler?”

    ”Himmler replaced Adolf Hitler, the great unifier. Under his guidance, Germany developed the first Atomic bomb in nineteen forty two. We and our Scandinavian, Italian and Spanish allies went to war with the communists, liberating millions of Russians from Stalin’s oppressive regime. Then we took on the Chinese communists, liberating the Nationalists from Mao Zedong. For ten years we fought wars with communism where ever it appeared. Britain, France, America, Brazil.  One hundred and fifty million people died in the ten year war. 

    Now we have peace. We are all unified under the one true Nazi flag. One true religion. One ideal.”

    ”What have I done?“ It was said in a whisper. Uri felt ill, all color blanched from his features as he studied the Manhattan skyline. He had prevented World war two. Prevented the attacks on the world trade centre, probably most of the wars of the twentieth century, instead he created a Nazi Empire. Just as the Christians had usurped the Roman Empire. He had made Hitler a martyr. A cornerstone for a new faith, a new religious belief. 

    ”Since the peace, we have developed a great technological utopia. Once we mastered time travel, we decided to find Hitler’s Assassin and put him on trial for the murder of Adolf Hitler.”

    ”My God!“ Uri wailed.

    ”Perhaps if you join me in prayer, mister Moeller.“ Said Reverend Pabst standing to attention, his right arm extended in salute. Richter joining him.

    

‘    Our Fuehrer,

who art in heaven.

Hitler be thy name.

Thy reich will come.

Thy war be done.

Forgive us our weaknesses,

for we will punish those who trespass against us.

 In a cause without end. 

Heil Hitler.’

 

“What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done...“Uri repeated the words over and over, desperate to rock back and forth or hold his head in his hands, his weapons falling loosely to the ground, he could only quiver in soul-deep agony. His mind was melting, his mental state collapsing.

“What have I done?!”

 

END

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