Olympus Device 1: The Olympus Device (5 page)

A pencil-thick, black line appeared, almost as if the rail gun had emitted a dark laser beam instead of a projectile. The
dark line ran perfectly straight until disappearing into the mouth of the ballistics tube.

Mitch rubbed his chin, mumbling
, “What the hell,” as his hands moved to the keyboard. He inhaled sharply when the monitor changed its image.

The area surrounding the black line morphed into a blurred swirl of reds and yellows. Features of the gun, table
, and ballistics tube were still discernible, but appeared as some sort of psychedelic, acid rock music video. Everything was colored oddly, except the black line. “That’s impossible,” muttered Mitch.

“What?”

Tapping the screen with his finger, Mitch said, “This image is showing the infrared spectrum, or the heat every object is emitting. That black line is actually absorbing light, and that’s impossible.”

Again the doctor manipulated the computer, this time the same picture coloring with hues of pinks and blues – except the still-black line.
“No,” Mitch said, “That can’t be.”

Dusty didn’t bother this time, his brother clearly troubled by what his instruments were telling him.

“I wonder what the speed is,” Mitch blurted out while pivoting the chair to a different screen. Again, the two men watched the same video recording, this time with large green numbers at the bottom of the display. Before Dusty realized what was going on, Mitch exhaled and sat back in his chair. “I’ve always wondered about that.”

“What?” Dusty asked shyly, not sure he wanted to know.

“I’ve always wondered if Mother Nature… the universe… if it would protect itself. I think your rail gun just proved that it will.”

“What are you talking about, Mitch?”

Pointing to the green numbers on the monitor, Mitch explained, “This is a speed reading detected by the instruments. It indicates 235,700 kilometers per second. The speed of light is only 298,000.”

Dusty shook his head, not sure he was understanding what his brother was saying. “I thought nothing could move faster than the speed of light. Didn’t they teach us in high school that anything moving that fast would achieve infinite mass
- would weigh as much as the entire universe?”

Smiling, Mitch nodded. “You actually learned something in Mrs. Higgins’ physics class!”

“I remember almost failing because I was sitting next to Elizabeth Jordan, and her cheerleader outfit was very short. I kept trying to convince her that Newton was wrong – two objects could occupy the same space at the same time, or at least get damn close.”

Mitch was too excited to tease his sibling over past sins. “
That was Pauli, not Newton… but anyway, you remember correctly about the infinite mass. If your ball bearing reached the speed of light, it would, in theory, weigh as much as all known matter. It would have so much gravity that the earth would be crushed and compressed, the entire planet ending up a little speck on its surface – so to speak. The entire solar system would soon be sucked into its field… the sun, light, other planets… everything.”

“Okay, I think I follow, but what does this have to do with Mother Nature defending herself?”

“The universe is constantly experiencing massive, unimaginable events. Supernova, colliding black holes, quantum strings - the list goes on and on. Huge spikes of energy are created, collisions of matter on a galactic scale – probably a lot of things occurring that we don’t even understand. And yet in all the billions and billions of years, no event has resulted in one tiny sub-particle reaching infinite mass. Not by accident or design, it’s never happened. My friends over in the quantum physics department would argue that something eventually will reach that speed, but so far there is zero evidence of it ever occurring.”

“So? Pardon my ignorance, brother, but if the speed of light is the ultimate universal speed limit, why is that such a puzzle?”

Mitch opened his mouth, an explanation of equations and theory ready to roll off his lips, but then he stopped. “I believe it does happen, and perhaps more often that we might imagine. I think Mother Nature defends herself by opening a door to another dimension and escorts anything approaching that speed limit through the portal.”

Turning to point back at the monitor, the professor continued. “This image shows that black line absorbing light. Nothing we know of can absorb all light – except a black hole. Some of my colleagues theorize that a black hole is a gap between dimensions. I think your rail gun, somehow, opened a door to another continuum and escorted the ball bearing, or what was left of it, through – probably to a dimension where the speed of light is faster, and thus, your projectile wouldn’t
result in infinite mass.”

“My drill battery is generating a black hole? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No. Your little power cell is ringing the doorbell. Mother Nature, with her infinite potential for energy is opening the door.”

“Oh.”

Mitch’s gaze moved to the rail gun, his expression clearly indicating his mind was off somewhere, trying to piece together what they had just experienced. Shaking his head, he said, “I need a cup of coffee.”

“Now you’re talking.”

High above North America, silhouetted by the deep background of space, the satellite LOEWS-7 fired a
microburst of radio waves toward the surface, its beam directed at the antenna farm residing outside Colorado Springs, Colorado.

The signal was transferred by fiber optic cable into the bowels of
Cheyenne Mountain, where it was received, decrypted, and processed by computers belonging to the North American Aerospace Defense Command. The end result of the process was a blinking blue light on the monitor of a United States Air Force lieutenant.

Clicking on the computer icon, he watched intently as the display changed to a series of graphs and lines, complete with a
message that scrolled across the bottom of the screen, “Warning - Potential EMP event.”

Turning to locate his commanding officer, the LT didn’t have to look far as the strobe mounted on top of his console had already drawn the senior officer’s attention.

“Sir, we’ve got another one of those odd magnetic events in Texas – this one similar to the occurrence two days ago,” he informed the colonel. “Whatever is causing the reading produced a slightly stronger signal just a few minutes ago.”

The older man clasped his hands behind his back, a grimace on his face. “Our diagnostics found all of our equipment was functioning properly. What the hell is going on?”

“This event was slightly east of the previous one, sir.”

“Overlay a map of North
America, Lieutenant.”

The computer monitor changed to show a map of Texas, complete with the denotation of major cities and interstate highways. The
colonel sighed. “Looks like those damn Aggies are running some sort of experiment at College Station and forgot to notify Homeland Security.”

Everyone under the officer’s command knew he was a graduate of University
of Texas, the archrival of A&M - a fact that was made obvious to anyone with ears during college football season.

“Bring up the magnetic spectrum analysis, son. I’m curious what those dunderheads are doing.”

After punching a few keys, the display changed again. The officer studied the data, one hand moving forward to rub his chin. “Okay, so it wasn’t a nuclear event, and it doesn’t match any known particle acceleration profile. Must be something new.”

“The computers flagged it as being similar to an EMP event, sir,” the young officer ventured. “Yet the level of electron agitation doesn’t match the model.”

After a moment of consideration, the officer waved his hand. “It’s not our problem, lieutenant. Notify Washington of the situation – we’ll let the FBI go chew on some Aggie-ass. Maybe that will teach those prima donnas to follow the rules for a change.”

The
lieutenant couldn’t be positive, but he thought he heard the commander mumble, “Hook’em Horns,” as he walked away.

Tom
Shultz was about to leave the Bryant, Texas field office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation when his cell phone jingled. Looking at the caller ID displayed on the small screen, he snorted and then tapped the answer button. “Agent Shultz.”

“Tommy, this is Fred Monroe down in Houston, how goes it up there in Aggie
land?”

Frowning at the informal use of his given name, he barely contained the smart-ass response
forming in his throat. The man on the other end of the call was the special agent in charge of the entire Houston office. He answered safely, “Everything’s fine, sir. What can I do for you today?”

“I’ve just gotten off the phone with Washington, Tom. They’ve got their panties in a wad over some
electromagnetic event that just took place up at A&M. The Air Force boys at NORAD are all in a tither because their satellites are squawking - as if they have anything else to do. Anyway, I need you to head over there and kick some ass. Someone at the university is evidently running some sort of experiment and didn’t fill out the necessary paperwork to keep Homeland Security in the loop. You know how they are about that shit.”

“Yes, sir
. I understand. Can you provide me with any additional information?”

“I’ll email you the file, Tommy. I appreciate you
r getting right on this.”

Appreciate my ass
, thought Shultz,
you big shots down in Houston always think we’re just sitting on our hands up here with nothing to do.

“Yes, sir. I’ll head over that way as soon as I receive the information.”

Ten seconds after the call disconnected, Shultz’s email dinged with a new message. He opened,
read, and printed the five pages sent from Houston, then headed for his car.

Mitch and Dusty locked the lab behind them, the professor teasing his brother over his insistence of taking the rail gun along in its hard-sided case.

After working their way through and finally exiting the huge facility, Dusty felt a sense of relief breathing the outside air. The walk to a local coffee shop relaxed the duo even further.

Dusty, in his
authentic cowboy garb, stuck out like a sore thumb in the Java Barn. Despite the establishment’s name including reference to a rural structure, the atmosphere and décor inside was decidedly bohemian, the clientele several decades behind him in age. The effect, if any, was lost on the two brothers as they gathered their steaming cups and found a quiet corner. Both men had more pressing issues occupying their minds.

“You know what you’re carrying around in that case is easily the most significant discovery in the history of mankind, don’t you?”

Frowning, Dusty said, “A weapon? I don’t know that I buy in to that. How can anything so destructive be considered so important? I should probably go lay it down in the parking lot and start running over it with your car… or a bulldozer.”

Mitch grinned at his brother’s
linear thinking. “In a way, your rail gun is similar to the splitting of the atom. Yes, it can be a horrible weapon, but that discovery also brought about advances in medicine, power generation, and a host of other fields. The developments enabled by nuclear technology pale in comparison to what you’ve found.”

“How so?”

“You’ve unlocked what most likely is an absolutely clean, renewable power source. Don’t you see, brother? With what you’ve discovered, we can turn the desert green! We can end hunger, probably most disease. There would be no need for poverty. Unlimited… free… clean energy can solve so many of the world’s problems. No more wars over oil or riches – every society self-sufficient and focusing their skills on bettering people’s lives. You may have just discovered faster than light travel which means we can colonize other worlds. Besides keeping every physicist on the planet busy for the next 20 years, you’ve no doubt opened the door to countless discoveries that could benefit mankind.”

Dusty took a sip of his coffee, pausing a mom
ent to savor the excellent brew. Mitch knew his sibling well, remaining quiet while the older Weathers worked through it all.

“You know what I see?” Dusty began. “I see something that is way, way too powerful for our kind. I don’t have much faith in our elected of
ficials or the military. There has been too much abuse, scandal, and outright corruption in the last 20 years for me to have any less jaded opinion. For sure, I don’t trust a corporation any further than I can throw it. And that’s just talking about the United States. When I think of foreign governments, it goes downhill from there.”

“I can’t argue with any of that, Dusty. I like math
, science, and the elements God created. I don’t understand politics or politicians. Still, we can’t just throw this opportunity away. There has to be a way to realize, manage, and safeguard the potential of your discovery.”

“Now you’re talking like a scientist, Mitch. I’m sorry, but I can’t think that way. My view is that when people find out about what this baby can do,
whole bunches of man’s darkest attributes are going to come crawling out of the woodwork. Power is so corruptive, and if what you’re telling me is accurate, I’m holding the ultimate corruption right here in this little case. I think we should destroy it.”

The concept of destroying such potential, of going backwards, troubled Mitch. If science had always reacted that way, the species would never advance. “There has to be a way, brother. You and I… right now… we’re still in shock. Let’s take our time and think about this. It’s much, much too big a deal to go running off half-cocked and do something stupid.”

Chief Cassidy looked up from his paperwork to find Agent Shultz standing in his doorway. “Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. If it isn’t my favorite federal officer – come all the way down here to the trenches to rub elbows with us common folk.”

The FBI agent stepped inside the threshold
, smiling at his old friend’s greeting. After a quick handshake, the head of the A&M University Police Department continued, “Seriously, Tom, what brings you over our way?”

Producing the report from Houston, Tom verbalized a quick synopsis. “The anti-terror boys are all running around like Chicken Little. There’s been
an experiment, test, or something on campus, and it registered on a military satellite. Before sending in an armored division to make sure you still control College Station, they asked their A-team, me, to come check it out.”

Laughing, Cassidy scanned the paper. Finding the longitude and latitude provided by the Air F
orce, he turned to a large wall map of the campus. After checking and rechecking the rarely used coordinate system, the chief poked his finger on the map. “I should have known. That is the physics building, and they’ve got some pretty serious equipment over there.”

“We need to check it out. Houston wants me to scare the crap out of whoever failed to notify our government of their activities. Feathers have been ruffled.”

“No problem,” replied the local cop. “I play golf with the guy who runs the entire show over there. He’s a good egg. A little absent-minded sometimes, can’t putt worth a shit, but a good guy nonetheless.”

Before long
, the two law enforcement officers were motoring toward the main administration building. Shultz was thankful the chief knew exactly where to go, and before long, they were standing outside an office that belonged to one, “Dr. Herman Floss, Dean, College of Science.”

A polite receptionist showed the two men into Dr. Floss’s inner-sanctum where they were greeted by a tall, thin man in his early 60s. After brief introductions and handshakes were exchange
d, Cassidy got right down to business.