Chapter Four

I had one of the other dreams that night. There were a few I regularly get but this was by far the creepiest, the one I really hated. I was a few years older than the swimming pool one. Instead of under the water I was underneath a cold scratchy blanket with no bed-sheet apart from the one on the bone hard mattress that I could never get to sleep properly on. The blanket smelt musty, as if rarely washed and then not dried out properly. There were other boys in the room that I couldn’t see in the darkness although I could hear their breathing. My own was laboured with Asthma, something I managed to lose later in my teens. There was something in the bed with me; I felt stabs of fear as its wet scally skin brushed across me. There came a terrible stink of sweat and beer although I didn’t know what it was at the time. I felt disembodied hands holding me down, trying to roam over my body. I kicked out in panic and heard a snorted yelp then a fist punched me hard in the face. I couldn’t breathe. Now it stank of the river, a fetid odour that made me want to retch although I knew I’d be caned if I did. I half-fell out of the bed, picked myself up and ran down the creaking floorboards to the door. Some huge and hideous thing slid to the floor behind, picked itself up then proceeded to lurch after me. A man’s coarse voice began to swear. I reached the door and found it locked. I shrieked in fear and awoke still screaming.

Must be first day nerves, I told myself. Another unwanted nightmare; I seemed to be having them on a regular basis. Not wanting to fall asleep again I sat with a half-eaten bowl of cornflakes on my lap and watched the morning sun creep up the walls of the Keep. Eventually I stirred, showered and changed into the same suit I kept for the library that I’d worn to the interview. Searching for my bike helmet I remembered its new home and swore. When I went out to get the Vespa from the alleyway Mike was waiting.

“Thought I’d give you a lift into work seeing as it’s your first day and all; can’t have you being late.” He looked shifty.

“Thanks, but you needn’t have bothered.”

“No bother. Joanne was worried you’d oversleep. You know what women are like.”

“I’m okay, really.” I noticed he hadn’t brought my helmet with him.

“No harm in having a lift though, now I’m here and all.”

I gave a shrug and got in. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch the bus home.”

“Ah, Mr Cooper!” The receptionist motioned me to her and looped a lanyard over my head. I looked down at the ID card with the company cross arrows logo, my name and the unflattering photo.  “There we are, all official. Just swipe it to get around the place and for your meals in the restaurant of course. Have a good day Peter.”

“Thanks.” I muttered as the nerves kicked in. This was for real. I was a bona-fide member of Team Trans-Port. What had I got myself into?

She flashed an inclusive smile. “Go straight through, Professor Carver’s waiting for you.”

Carver met me with a grin and stuck out a hand. “Peter, welcome to the team! I trust you’ll enjoy your first day with Trans-Port. Come, I’ll show you where you’ll be working. Personnel will take care of all the legal stuff later. We’ve a marvellous staff restaurant by the way.”

I felt I should show a positive response. “Great, I’m really looking forward to working here Professor. I won’t let you down.”

“We know you won’t Peter. Now, let’s go to your office.”

The ‘office’ turned out to be one of the dark-glassed rooms in the corner of E Block where Carver had laid on the teleporting teddy show for me. I was shown to my desk with a file of foolscap papers and a phone. Carver lent over to point out a folder of random scientific documents.

“We’d like you to go through these Projection Reports, polish them up for us; a bit dry when our guys try to do it. Use your creativity; there’s a file of technical notes you can refer to if you get lost in the science. We want to use a version of these as press releases for the various international science journals. See what you can do, I’ll get someone to look in on you later and bring you a coffee. Lunch is at one; Claire will come and get you. Anything else, give me a buzz; there’s a list of internal numbers around somewhere.”

I nodded automatically, dumbfounded at what I was being asked to do. This was ridiculous; I didn’t even know where to start. I had no knowledge nor the technical training to even attempt what Carver was asking. Didn’t the man realize the limits of my capabilities?

“Good man, see you later then.”

Obviously not. Professor Carver left the room and I was on my own without a clue how to proceed. Or if I even wanted to.

A woman brought some employment forms for me to sign mid-morning. I’d been getting nowhere with the report ‘polishing’ and was glad of an excuse to take a break. There was a single A4 page submerged in the middle of the forms, almost like it had been intentionally hidden. It was headed by a small Institute logo rather than the usual Trans-Port cross arrows on all the others.

“What’s this?”

“Just a release clause.” She replied, looking away.

“Release from what?”

“It’s just a technical detail.” I managed to catch her eye and give her a ‘meaning?’ shrug.

“Release from responsibility,” she continued, “it’s just a...”

“Technical detail.” I finished for her. “Okay, whatever.” I signed where indicated then finished the rest and handed them back to her. She smiled awkwardly then handed me another sheet.

“Please sign this as well.”

“This is an Official Secrets Act form. Why should I have to sign one of these? Is Trans-Port working for Her Majesty’s Government?

She managed to pretend mild rebuke. “You don’t need to know the details, everyone working for Trans-Port must sign one of these. It’s company policy.”

‘Which company?’ I thought, Trans-Port or The Institute? How big were these people and did they have an actual government contract? And why was a teleportation company that hadn’t yet managed to teleport anything more than a few yards across a room so important anyway?

“Please just sign.” I did so and she swept up the paper with the others and left.

Perhaps it was the shock of those forms but a feeling of unease about the dark-glassed room began to grow. Or was it more a sense of déjà vu? How could I ever have been in this room before today? The break from the pedantic work cleared my mind enough for me take stock of my new surroundings. And suddenly I was sure I had been here before. Not a similar room, this exact one. It was almost featureless; a couple of desks and some chairs, another door presumably to a further office and a collection of incongruous old metal filing cabinets. In one corner there was an ancient television set, in another a large wooden box. It was the sight of the box that had set off the déjà-vu. It didn’t look as though it was locked. I walked over, gingerly raised the lid with my foot and flipped it over. It was full of children’s toys.

Sure enough, Claire came to get me for lunch at exactly one o’clock. The refectory was a clean perfunctory eating area with a counter running along one side dispensing hot and cold food. There was a row of floor-length windows along the other. The long low building was set across from a small but prettily landscaped courtyard opposite C Block. Double glass doors lead through to a corridor and other doorways, presumably loos and restrooms.

We joined a queue. “I suggest you try the pasta,” Claire told me, “it’s delicious.” I must have seemed doubtful. “Seriously.” She raised an eyebrow and grinned, which suited her far more than the cold business-like persona of before and confirmed my initial impression of her at the interview; Claire was a smart not to mention attractive woman.

“Okay.” I was uncomfortably aware I’d been staring.

The woman serving behind the counter said, “Hello, you must be Peter. My name’s Martha, welcome to the refectory on your first day at Trans-Port. I hope you enjoy the food.”

I nodded and told her I was sure I would then took my tray to one of the windows overlooking a rolling meadow beyond a wire fence. The fence had little lightning bolt warning symbols at regular intervals. I was surprised when Claire joined me; I’d assumed I’d be eating alone. I was grateful for her company but still slightly nervous to be in her presence. She still seemed odd and I knew nothing of her actual role within the company. And then there was that strange remark she’d tried to pass off as a joke. Should I be trying to avoid her? I didn’t want any hassle on my first day. She was certainly way above me at Trans-Port, who wasn’t, but not actually my boss who I presumed to be Carver or possibly Professor Dorothy Harding.

“We’ve met before you know, before the other day I mean.” Her words broke into my musing.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we have.” This was awkward.

“I shouldn’t say so but I’m intrigued how much you still remember.” She seemed at once wary, as if realising she’d made a mistake. “I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t mention it to Professor Carver.”

“No, of course not.” What was she talking about? I looked around for a reason to leave for another table. I could have joined Carver and some other dull looking scientist types in white lab coats, deep in conversation without touching their food. That would make me look like an idiot though, and probably be a breach of company protocol. Maybe she’d leave once she finished the mind-games.

“Food any good?” She asked, reasonably normal again.

I stared down at the pasta and shrugged. “Yeah, excellent.”

Perhaps she actually wanted to talk and the other thing was some weird breaking-the-ice gesture. “How long have you been with the company?” I tried. That seemed harmless enough.

But something in her attitude had changed. Claire glanced over at Carver’s table as if he’d caught her eye.

“Excuse me Peter; I have to finish some work.” She got up quickly, hesitated, then lent in towards me the same way she had with the other weird comment. “Good luck this afternoon but I hope you fail.” She paused. “And don’t believe your eyes.” I watched her as she walked out. Carver intercepted my gaze and frowned before turning his attention back to his colleagues.

He came to see me with an odd request after I’d returned from lunch. “Ah, Peter, how’s it going? You can skip the rest of the afternoon’s work. We’d like you to help us with some tests instead. We need a human reaction for the readings to be quantifiable.”

Human reaction? Who said things like that? “I don’t see as I’d be much help, Professor Carver. As you know, I’m only employed to write up raw data reports.”

“Well, actually your contract states your duties include taking part in testing procedures at certain times.” Carver replied, somewhat sharply. “Of course, if you’re not prepared to...”

“No, that’s fine,” I replied hurriedly, “I’ll be right along. Where do I have to report to?”

“I’m going there myself now so you can come along with me.” The tone was conciliatory again. “I know this is all very new to you but it’s an easy enough task. More interesting than writing up a load of dull reports anyway.”

We walked past the glass wall and grey metal plinths of the teleportation test to a thick mesh grill at the far end of the area. Carver waved his pass at a machine on the wall and the grill rolled up with a clatter. A solid featureless metal door beyond swung slowly open. I was now in a space twice the size of the previous blocks. That must be the reason the building seemed larger on the outside than what I’d seen so far. This was very different from the previous Spartan-like D Block and the other empty rooms of dead screens and terminals. It was vast and stuffed with avenues of advanced electronic hardware; this room’s screens were fully alive and pulsating with figures and graphics. White lab-coated men and women hunched over consoles and lights blinked everywhere. The atmosphere was dry and uncomfortably cool. I obediently followed Carver down one of the electronic avenues to a large opaque tube, recognising some of his scientist lunch buddies. Perhaps they’d been discussing me and the test. Carver waved his pass at some sensor on the side of the tube and a section slid sideways. He stepped inside then motioned me to follow. The section slid back into place behind me and I felt suddenly trapped. Without warning the floor fell away. Almost immediately we stopped, causing me to stagger. Carver of course had been prepared for this and reached out a hand to steady me. There were no indications of any basement from what I’d seen of the place yet in that short time we must have gone down at least fifty feet. The door swished open.

This room was darker and a fraction of the size. There was only one consul and apparently no other exit. My claustrophobia was really kicking in now. The low wall lighting picked out a round shape in the centre. Eyes growing accustomed to the dim, I saw a large half-sphere resting on its back like some huge contact lens. Transparent pipes were filling it with some kind of gunge. Above the half-sphere hung a complex version of the ‘Projection equipment’ Carver had demonstrated.

Three figures moved towards me. There was young men and woman I’d not seen before in grey tight-fitting ‘mime artist’ bodysuits. The other was Professor Harding n her white lab-coat. She wore a cold expression if approaching a test subject. Somewhat belatedly I felt I might be in trouble and cursed myself for not reading the ‘release clause’ a little more carefully.

“How much does he know?” She asked Carver, ignoring me. “Was he told to have the pasta?”

“Simply that he is here to help us test the equipment. I’ll leave the details to you.”

She gave Carver a frown and turned to acknowledge me for the first time. “Peter, we appreciate your co-operation in this.”

“Yeah, about that. Do I really have to do whatever you think I’m going to do?” I glanced over at the two bodysuits who’d taken-up rather sinister positions inside the actual giant dish. They had their arms casually folded as if awaiting orders.

“I’m afraid you’d be in breach of contract if you didn’t. You wouldn’t want that I presume?”

“No, but...”

Carver intervened and indicated the man and woman. “These guys will be in the Sending Dish with you at all times. It’s perfectly safe.”

“The ‘Sending Dish?” I stared at the giant object again One of the clowns inside gave me a thumbs up. “Where are you trying to ‘send’ me to?”

Harding looked at Carver but received a shake of the head. “It’s just a test only a very important one and we need it done today. Right now in fact.”

“Why me, I thought I was here just to observe.” I absently noted my voice had risen an octave.

“Well, we think you’re the perfect subject. And then you can write up your report from personal experience. That’s your job, isn’t it? Writing up things? Anyway, we need to get going and I’d like to think you’d volunteer this one thing for us on your first day.” He reached out to grab my hands. “What do you say Peter? Will you do this small thing for us?”

Everyone in the darkened little room was staring at me.

Carver raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Of course, if you’d prefer not to I suppose we can’t make you. It would be a shame though, not a very impressive start…”

I panicked. “Okay, okay! What is it I have to do?”

“Hand me your glasses for a start.” Harding told me. “You can’t take them with you where you’re going.”

I lay floating on my back in the giant dish, naked apart from a small towel placed over my crotch. Harding tried to explain that the dish was filled with a combination of liquids but the only name I recognised was amniotic fluid. That’s what babies float in inside the womb. I asked Harding if I was about to be reborn and when she failed to reply the joke immediately lost its humour. She also said my DNA was being ‘targeted’. That made even less sense. I hated being powerless, especially in water. This was a really bad idea.

The bodysuits squatted on either side supporting my back, the viscous liquid up to their necks. I looked into their eyes and they met my gaze steadily. The guy gave me a reassuring nod that did nothing to assuage my growing panic. I wanted to push them away and jump out of this stupid dish. I stared up at the technical hardware hung above my head. A wide funnel pointed straight at my midriff with a pulsing light somewhere inside it. There was a low steady throb like a heartbeat.

They’d said the word ‘test’ but it felt like any testing had already been done and re-done. That meant this was the real thing. I made a quick decision. Job or no job I wasn’t about to be ‘sent’ anywhere. But when I tried to push my legs down through the syrupy liquid the hands tightened their grip and my waist was forced back up to a floating position. Now my head tilted backwards. I tried to struggle but to no avail.

Harding’s face appeared in my eye-line again. She looked worried I was about to ruin everything and I got the impression that meant months if not years of preparation. She made an effort to keep her voice calm. “Everything’s going ok so please don’t struggle. We’re about to start the procedure.”

I struggled. A distant siren sounded. What would they do with me if things didn’t go ‘ok’? What did they do with the failures? No one apart from Mike and Joanne knew I was here. And James of course; the three people I trusted most. The only three people I really knew. I began to realise the obvious fault in this situation but then the lights dimmed even more. Now I lay in total darkness. Without warning a beam of blinding white light centred directly on my face and body. I couldn’t see anything; the intensity was actually painful. I shut my eyes but could still see it through the skin of my eyelids. Hands held my face rigid; I couldn’t turn away. The last thing I remembered was the swimming pool dream and I knew at last that it had really happened to me.

But not in a swimming pool.

I came too with a chill caressing my body. I opened my eyes and found myself trembling in the foetal position, no longer in the Sending Dish but on what felt like damp grass. I thought I’d gone blind until I realised the points of light above me were stars in a night-time sky. They were diffused or were my own eyes doing that? I squinted myopically at unfocussed shapes. Panic set in. Had that damn machine done irreversible damage; if it could screw up my sight what had it done to the rest of my body?

I cursed Carver and Harding, cursed their whole bloody company.

There came a shooting pain between my ribs as my breathing became rapid. My heart raced and my chest tightened… ‘No’, I told myself, ‘you’re having a panic attack like you did at the end of the swimming pool dream. React like you did in that; breathe deeper, slower, force the air into your lungs, keep forcing it down. Yes, that’s it...’

I rolled over onto my stomach and threw up. The tendrils of bile shone in golden light from something above me. I crouched and looked up to find the source. A vast high-walled building stretched into the sky. It was a flat and featureless monolith. A central tower climbed higher still and on top of that a powerful beam of light broke through the night. There was a winged figure up there, drenched in liquid gold, pointing to something behind me. That I slowly got to my feet and turned to find a whole town sprawled at my feet. Distant specks of cars pulsed on neon lit strips of road. The lights began to flare and I shut my eyes against them but they just grew stronger. Now they were inside my mind and I couldn’t keep them out. I tried to turn away but something held my head, someone. I screamed for them to let me go, that my retinas were burning, that I was dying…

I spluttered and thrashed in the Sending Dish, twisting away from the steadying hands. Instantaneously I knew where I was but couldn’t process it. I gagged on the slime as the attendants steadied me then helped me to my feet, slipping and stumbling as they attempted to hold on to my slime covered body. Finally the three of us stood upright. I’d forgotten my nakedness until one of them handed me a towel while the other carefully steered me over the Dish’s side.

Carver and Harding were both watching in the darkness. They approached and each took my arm. The towel slipped from my grasp and Harding bent down to pick it up and hand it back to me. I muttered ‘thanks’ through trembling lips. Carver put my glasses back on me and at last I could focus properly on the room.

“Don’t say anything yet, you need to rest and recover.” The calming words failed to mask his excitement, almost as if he’d gone on the journey himself. “We prepared a room for you. There are a few tests first I’m afraid.”

“Don’t let him get too relaxed, William.” Harding snapped, back in character. She handed me a robe with a Trans-Port logo on it that I could have done without seeing right at that moment. The three of us entered the lift.

“I don’t understand…”

“Of course you don’t.” Carver attempted to sympathize. “Don’t worry, everything went better than we expected.”

“W…What were you expecting?” I stuttered.

He ignored that. “Tell us what you saw Peter, tell us everything. We’ve been waiting twenty long years for this!”

“Was it a large building?” Harding took over the interrogation. “A cathedral? Did you see an art-deco styled Cathedral, cubelike with huge blank walls and a tower? It’s very important you tell us exactly! Did you see an angel?”

“Yes, I think so. All of what you said but it was night-time.”

“Night? That’s fine, we allowed for that. Are you one hundred per cent certain it was a modern cathedral though, not Capistrano’s?” He sounded agitated. “You have to be sure!”

I nodded, suddenly very tired. The two scientists beamed at each other. Carver let out a muted ‘yes!’ and clenched his fist. Harding patted me on the head like I was a dog returning a stick.

The lift door slid open to rows of expectant faces gathered around the lift tube. Carver stepped out and beamed around with a thumbs’ up gesture. A huge cheer went up. I was paraded through the throng. I glanced at Harding who wore a fixed grin. Whatever I’d just done must be extremely important to Trans-Port. Surely that meant a pay rise?