Rebel in Time

'The unified field theory grew out of Einstein's theory of general relativity. Simply speaking, it is an attempt to tie together and prove the interrelationship of all of the forces in the universe. This is not an easy thing to do. Down through the years a number of people have worked very hard to either prove or disprove it, to get to grips with it in some way. As was Einstein, I am a mathematician, not a physicist. But unlike him, I have more laboratory results and experiments to build upon. And more facilities now exist to put to the test any new theories. Which is what we are doing here.'

'What?' he asked, mystified.

'Tying down the relationships of space-time. If I could show you what we are doing, perhaps then you might understand more clearly.'

He didn't. Troy followed her through the building and looked at particle accelerators, cloud chambers, racks and banks of equipment that apparently didn't even have names. Enthusiastic scientists pointed out to him curly white lines on black photographic prints, as proud of them as if they were photographs of their own offspring. He finished the tour thoroughly depressed, knowing that he was far out of his depth, while wondering at the same time just what he could do about it. When they were done, Roxanne took him to the executives' dining-room, an alcove off the company cafeteria, where they were served first class coffee and toasted Danish.

'That's a very impressive set-up you have here,' Troy said around a mouthful of Danish.

'It certainly is. Do you now see how exciting our work is?'

'No,' he admitted. 'But I think your security arrangements are top rate.'

They laughed at that. 'No, I'm being serious,' Troy said. 'McCulloch seems to be involved in some kind of wickedness that we still don't know about. But as a professional security officer he sewed this place up tight as a drum. It may look casual to an outsider, but the entire establishment is divided into guarded blocks with first-class security checks between each one. Records are automatically kept of everyone going in and out of each block. This information is computerized so that the whereabouts of every person in the entire set-up is known every instant of the time. Very efficient.'

'But other than that, Troy…?'

'Very little penetrated. Look, Dr Delcourt…'

'Roxanne.'

'Roxanne, sorry. During our little tour you impressed me in two ways. First off, you know everything that is happening here in every detail. I don't know if you noticed it, but you answered questions when you were asked about a number of different things. Without hesitation. I haven't the slightest idea what you were saying — but the other people did and they seemed to go away satisfied. You're a pretty high-powered lady.'

'Why, thank you, Troy. I don't think anyone has said anything as nice to me in years.' She smiled at him across her coffee cup and, with her business expression banished for a moment, she was quite lovely.

'That's not flattery — but the honest truth.'

'Which is even better. But you said that there were two things about me that impressed you. Make my day — tell me something else!'

Once again they laughed together. 'The second one is easier,' Troy said. 'You're a person who knows what they are talking about. Who operates without any, well—'

'Bullshit?'

'Right. And that's what I mean. You know what you're doing, you're in complete control of the situation here, while at the same time you're a walking ad for femlib. Which depresses me even more.'

'How?'

'It must be me. I still don't know what is going on around here.'

She shook her head. 'No, Troy, it's all my fault and I apologize. Everyone I normally talk to is up to the eyebrows in technology. I'm so used to it that I am afraid that I have forgotten how to communicate in ordinary language. I don't give interviews to the press, or have a husband to talk to about everyday matters, or any important interests outside of my work. Looking at it that way I suddenly realize that I must be a damn boring person.'

'I didn't say that!'

'Well, I did! And here is where I begin to reform. Let us leave this coffee and get back to my office and open the bar.' She frowned at him with sudden concern. 'You do drink?'

'Try me!'

'Good. I'll build a couple of swellegant gibsons and under the ameliorating effects of alcohol I will attempt to rejoin the human race.'

Fifteen minutes later Troy was sitting back in the deep armchair as he sipped gratefully from the reviving glass of frigid gin.

'That is good, really good. I can now confide in you that I am recovering from a very alcoholic week-end, and you have found the cure that I have been looking for.'

'Wonderful.' Roxanne sipped hers, then delicately picked out the tiny white sphere of the onion with her fingertips, popped it into her mouth and crunched it thoughtfully. 'All right, here we go. If I stray from the straight and narrow and you miss as much as one word, why, then shout whoa! All right?'

'Shoot.'