The Sphere: A Journey In Time Page 2

  "What is the date?" she said again.

  I swore impatiently under my breath. I hated the formality of this. We both know she wants the year, why doesn't she just ask me for the year? "April 10th, 2073."

  "What is your name?" Her voice was as sterile as the room.

  I opened my eyes for a second, then closed them against the pain of the light again. I gave up on standing and fell to my hands and knees. Do not lie down, I told myself. I opened my eyes again for a moment and glanced to where I had dropped the chest. It was already gone, along with the sphere. The padding on the floor felt like a grubby old gym mat. "Adelaide Vivienne MacDuff." The vomit had been wiped away but the smell lingered and the padding had a grimy wet sheen about it that made me feel ill again.

  I felt hands on me. They stood me up and supported me while another set started to remove my clothes. They always wore biohazard suits to protect against any contagious diseases I might have contracted while gone. The masks covered most of their faces so I could never tell who they were. I wasn't sure if that was intentional.

  "Mission accomplished?" The final question. The longer I had been here the more these questions made sense to me, but this one was still puzzling. What if I said no? There were definitely missions that had failed, but for reasons out of the traveler’s control. No one had failed due to their own incompetence. Would they drag me out some other door along with my chest for a different kind of debriefing? I was probably just being paranoid, but it was hard not to be in this place. Most likely the question merely directs what they do with my journal and chest while I'm going through the rest of my recovery process. "Mission accomplished?"

  I thought about it. There would be more discussion on this mission, I was sure. Without actually catching William in the act with another man, it was impossible to prove his orientation. It had been agreed amongst the higher ups that this would be a first step and I would find out what I could.

  "Yes."

  I heard the electronic thud of a microphone being shut off as the speakers cut out. Whoever was asking the questions was satisfied and left. If I squinted I could see shapes. I didn't mind it though, the people in their white biohazard suits and helmets were unsettling. They had removed my clothes at this point and were leading me to an unmarked white door. No doubt the inspection of the journal I left in the chest was already being done. I had never been in this room long enough to determine where all the exits were, but I was pretty sure that was by design. For a while now, there had been a dull curiosity about where the aides went when they left me. They guided me through another door and made sure I had enough strength to stand before retreating and shutting the door behind me.

  I heard the hiss of the air handling system isolating the doctor and me from the rest of the world. I often wondered why she would volunteer for this, even with minimal risk. We took plenty of precautions before leaving on missions. I had been vaccinated against all known diseases of the period before I left.

  It was darker in the examination room and I was able to open my eyes more fully. I automatically struggled over to the examination table. This was my least favorite part of the return. The nausea had passed but I was still feeling unsteady, and now I had to be subjected to unpleasant medical tests.

  "How are you feeling Miss MacDuff?"

  The formality in Doctor Crebbs voice betrayed only a very small amount of concern, but I knew better than to try and capitalize on it. I had asked her repeatedly to use my first name in the past. Part of me wanted to keep asking, to not give in to the formalities of the procedure, but I was especially weary this time around. "Dizzy." I took her hand to steady myself as I moved onto the examination table to lay down. I tried to take a mental survey of my body but the vertigo made it hard to focus on anything. "Very dizzy."

  "Subject MacDuff experiencing more dizziness than past missions. I note again my objection to such lengthy visits." Within the first few seconds of my lying down she had already taken blood, my temperature and blood pressure. I knew the readings were automatically logged along with all vocal notes and a video recording of this session.

  In the back of my mind I agreed with her assessment. The length had been too long. Not just for physical reasons but also psychological ones. Admittedly, it was a highly personal mission for me, but even a few weeks earlier it would've been a mentally easier decision to leave. No, not a decision, I had no choice. But that last climb upstairs to retrieve the sphere might not have been regretted as deeply.

  She kept up a stream of notes, did countless more tests and gave me several injections while I tried to focus on recalling my mission. In my mind I reviewed the past few months and especially today. It was mostly to just keep myself distracted from the external stimulus. I didn't particularly care for doctors or being subjected to a battery of tests. We had only been doing this for a few years and we still weren't certain about any long-term effects on the body, so the examinations were a necessity. Everyone suffered the dizziness and nausea. They told us it was our body trying to readjust to the time shift, but they could not explain why it happened.

  "Exams passed. Subject MacDuff released from quarantine, 0912." I gave a silent cheer and sighed in relief. The disorientation was passing. One thing I would say for Doctor Crebbs, she was fast. It had only been 12 minutes since my arrival. Everyone arrived at 0900. They liked to keep us awake for at least 12 hours once we returned, no matter what time it had been when we left. She helped me up from the examination table and once out from beneath the spotlight I found my eyes were now well adjusted. I thanked her and carefully made my way to a door opposite the one I had entered.

  The next part was my favorite. One of the aides offered her arm to assist me, but I waved her off and descended the steps into the sanitation bath. The water with whatever chemicals they laced it with was nice and hot, and about two-dozen soft bristled brushes enveloped me from the sides and bottom of the tub and started scrubbing. I leaned my neck back into the arch on the tub as an aide set about to place the shampooing helmet on my head and started scrubbing my face. I was sure I had quite a bit of grime on me. Given William's affluence his family bathed every month, but it was not expected that the servants would bathe more than once a year and I hadn’t wanted to make a fuss about it. There had been experimentations with automated facial cleansing shells, but many of us had complained of feelings of suffocation and claustrophobia. In the end they were convinced that given the extreme variability of facial features they were better off scrubbing our faces manually.

  There was a soft beep and the brushes around my arms retreated. I lifted my hands out of the tub and placed them in the manicure pods on either side. The first time it was explained to me what these were I was terribly frightened of the idea of a machine being able to adjust the ends of my fingernails, but the pods proved to be experts at their jobs. Another soft beep and the shampooing helmet was removed. My facial scrubber retreated as well and I reluctantly stood back up as the tub drained and an overhead shower rained down on me. I felt like my skin might squeak as I climbed out of the tub and into a soft robe. I smiled at the aide and walked over to another soft chair where the hairdresser Vanessa met me.

  "Welcome back, Addy." I liked Vanessa, though I was fairly certain that she, like everyone else here, was trained to be watching me. The pleasant conversations that followed were inevitably monitored for any signs of dissent in the ranks. I had only minor training in this. Enough to keep an eye on my fellow librarians. Hairdressers were known for their ability to get people to open up.

  I closed my eyes and murmured, "Thanks," as she started to brush my hair out. She had quite a task ahead of her. Before I left for my mission, my hair had been roughly chopped and the ends destroyed to help me fit in with my class. "It’s good to be home." I gave a hearty sigh and my shoulders, already relaxed from my bath, sank just a little further. She tugged at a particularly tangled spot the conditioner hadn't even made a dent in. "You could just cut all the ends off."

  S
he gave a soft laugh. "Eventually, but it'd be nice if your hair laid flat while I did it." She succeeded with the rough patch and moved on to another spot on my head that had decided to misbehave. My stomach gave a bit of a grumble while she worked out the tangles. I realized I had been awake at least nine hours and had only had that one slice of bread to eat. Vanessa knew my nerves often prevented me from eating on the last day of a mission and she patted my shoulder. "Don't worry, they're on the way."

  She finished detangling me and was parting my hair to cut it when a door on the side of the room slid open and another aide came in. Teddy, I thought. In their white tunics and shortly cropped hair they all blended together. He handed me a small cube, which I immediately popped into my mouth. I chewed till it was malleable and swallowed. He handed me a glass of water to wash it down with. It was largely tasteless, but it would settle my stomach until I could have a proper meal. He waited silently with a placid but not unfriendly look on his face for my order.

  "Argent salad, goat cheese, floogberries, bacon vinaigrette. Dry aged duck breast, medium rare, braised golf potatoes." Though I had eaten a lot of meat and potatoes in the past few months, the preparation and seasoning had been lacking. The cube I had just eaten was dual purpose. In addition to settling my stomach, it would aid with digesting foods I hadn't eaten in a few months to assist in acclimating my system back to normal. Though I no longer felt the hunger pangs my mouth watered at the thought of my meal. "Bordeaux."

  "Any particular vintage, Adelaide?" he asked.

  "Surprise me."

  The aide I thought was Teddy nodded, turned to go and left me to Vanessa again. She had trimmed the first section of hair and was changing my part to attack another section. "So, Shakespeare."

  I could hear the smirk in her voice even if I couldn't see her face. "I know!" I knew I sounded like a star struck teenager. The truth was I had been looking forward to this mission more than any of my previous ones. Growing up with a last name like MacDuff made it hard to not become engrossed in William Shakespeare.

  The material given to me for my research was largely already known by me. I had already read everything he was known to have written, in both modern English and the original quartos. In addition, I had read several of his biographies. Vanessa knew of my mild obsession, it had come up in previous post mission haircuts. But she was also one of the few non-librarians I got to see around the complex and actually have any lengthy conversations with. I had to assume that was also by design. My guess was that she was actually a psychologist who had been trained to cut hair. She knew more about what was going on than any of the other aides. We were warned not to talk about where we had been or what our future missions were to be with most of the staff, but she always knew.

  "I think he liked me. He would come into the kitchens often to chat. Made it easier to get him to talk about his work when no one else was around. And he was not at all like what I was expecting." I paused for a minute, remembering my final conversation with him. "It was harder to leave there more than any other place I’ve been."

  I realized a long time ago there was no point in trying to keep thoughts like that to myself. I had no idea what they made of anything I said, and second guessing motivations got me nowhere. She once told me she thought I was holding something back. I hadn't suspected her at the time so I divulged the thought I was having, which could have been considered slightly seditious. I had realized that the mission I was on at the time would have been completed more quickly and thoroughly if I had simply told target who I really was, and I very nearly did it that way. I was still here though. I had to imagine certain feelings of doubt in the laboratory complex were natural, and they'd rather know what I was thinking, than think I was keeping things from them. When I was being interviewed and had to go through the lie detector test, they warned me they would rather be told the bad stuff than lied to about it.

  "It's understandable. I know this mission was particularly personal to you." I heard the snip of the scissors and wondered briefly if saying the wrong thing would ever get them driven into my skull. There were stories of people disappearing from the complex, but I usually waved those off as rumors.

  "Frankly, I didn't care about the outcome either way. I don't think it’ll affect the way anyone thinks about his work." I paused and realized that it would still fail to be true for some people. "Or at least, it shouldn't." A bit of tension crept into me and I tried to push it away. I knew the conversations that would be surfacing amongst the higher ups and the planters about what my discovery meant. In here though, I still had some time to keep myself removed from that. Enjoy your recovery, I told myself. "Really it was just so amazing to be able to meet such a brilliant man. Though I admit, it takes away some of the mysticism about him as well. I half expected his normal speech to be rhyming couplets!" I laughed out loud and realized it made my head jerk slightly. "Oops, sorry."

  "No harm.” She repositioned my head firmly. “I have to admit I’m jealous. I would've loved to meet him as well."

  I didn't know how to respond to this. Maybe someday you will? Not likely. The regulations put in place were rather immobilizing. It seemed a shame to have such an awesome technology and not be able to share it with the whole world, but the consequences of it getting out to the general public or other countries could be disastrous. I was told we had a hard enough time convincing the military it wasn't worth the risk for them to try and use it. "Have you ever thought about becoming a librarian?"

  Vanessa had moved on to blow-drying my hair, but paused it for a moment to respond. "Nope. I've no desire to go through what you have to go through upon your return. I'm not sure the vomiting and doctor visits are worth it."

  I smiled. After my first two trips I had started to feel the same way. I was sent back into the recent past to check on the actions of some people I had never heard of. It all seemed so pointless to me at the time. I couldn't imagine who would find the discoveries I had made important, but someone must have wanted it done. So after two trips to see people completely unknown to me doing terribly unimpressive things, I was beginning to think I had made a mistake transferring to this lab. I had been promised exciting and important work with the transfer. At the time I was pursued they couldn't tell me exactly what I would be doing, but having worked on classified projects in the past I was used to this idea and accepting of it.

  I knew classified projects usually turned out to be more dull than the mystery shrouding them would imply, but something about this offer had intrigued me. It might've been the directions in the application to list every skill, no matter how irrelevant it seemed. They even broke it down into sections to help guide us. To this day, I have no idea how being able to play a bagpipe could be relevant to this line of work, but things like my scuba certification, community theater work and horseback riding ability now made sense. The idea that a hobby would be more relevant to my new job than my engineering background was intriguing. At the time I didn’t know that was what they looked for frequently in librarian candidates. They wanted someone who showed a high level of intelligence and would learn quickly but could also fool strangers into thinking they belonged in whatever time period they happened to be in.

  Finally after the first two, I had earned their trust well enough to go on a simple but rather important mission. I was sent to Egypt in 2572 BC to see a few days of the construction of the Great Pyramid of Khufu. I went through hell to be made to look like someone who would fit in and not be mistaken for a slave just in case I was spotted. The skin tinting alone took three hours to accomplish and another two to get me back to my normal, pasty, Irish white when I returned. It was worth it as I spent three of the most memorable days of my life hiding in solitude in the desert with a pair of binoculars, and some food and hydration packs, watching the great stones be moved into place. It was the most surreal thing I had ever experienced and definitely not something I would forget in my lifetime. To see what humans could accomplish first hand with such primitive tools was aw
e-inspiring. After that I realized there would be missions that I would suffer almost any method of torture to be a part of. Just like this most recent one.

  "All done here." Vanessa gave me a smile and a quick hug as I stood up. "Good luck."

  I stepped over to the dressing area and exchanged my soft fuzzy robe for a clean purple tunic and shoes. The clothing in this place made me feel like I was in some sort of commune. I supposed that was not completely untrue. At least they weren't white like the aides wore. The starkness of the walls of the chambers gave it such a sterile feel; it was nice to have a bit of color in at least one aspect of our lives.

  I stepped out into the hallway and was greeted by my boss, Jim. "You've just pissed off a lot of people, Addy."

  I made no attempt to hide the mischievousness behind the grin I returned.

  Chapter 3

  Jim started off down the brilliant hallway and I fell into step next to him. We passed by several unmarked white doors before I finally spoke. "I don't know why everyone thought he was being so literal about it. It's not like the witches or fairies in his plays are real." It occurred to me as the words came out of my mouth, that witches and fairies might not be real, but witchcraft was definitely considered real in Shakespeare’s time. Mary was a perfect example of that belief in mysticism. Perhaps my argument was not that valid after all.