It begs the question and poses an argument regarding the human mind in all its inherent complexity. Those of good character, an honest nature will make decisions based on positive outcomes, contributions made of the results, or will at least claim the premise as true. How does one really know, though? Most folks go on the basis of hope that when someone trusts another, that trust has been earned and is returned in kind, repaid in good will, always the best of intentions.
To the dismay of history, one common theme has been the selfish intent of man. In a group setting, men will talk, debate and argue for the betterment of all society. However, the singular individual, one man or woman, will seek the personal interest at heart first. It is human nature, for good or evil. Mother Theresa, Gandhi, Mandela and those few others in history who’ve stepped beyond a pattern of selfishness and made the world a better place for it, leading by example, have been too few and far between, leaving the world otherwise “off balance” and clearly leaning toward the diabolical. Throughout the course of human history many world leaders, pharaohs, kings, queens, soldiers who have appointed themselves as “president” have had the proclivity for meeting their needs through the exercise of power, governing for one instead of the masses in the most self-serving way. These were the concerns of the Ethics Council.
Having been subjected to numerous psychiatric evaluations over six years, per the Flicker Project Oversight Committee, his acceptance was a stamp of approval, having determined that Ethan, being of sound mind and body, was ready to take the deep plunge into the past. The Ethics Council was an integral, compulsory element of The Consortium, mainly comprised of psychiatrists, psychologists, physicians, theologians and even military intelligence. Their primary concern was to establish what kind of individual every candidate was at the core. All tolled it was a grueling process, nearly dehumanizing. Methods used to derive information were, at times, downright brutal. According to the powers that be, it was necessary to preserve the integrity of the program as a whole and if someone wanted to gain entrance to the Flicker, they’d have to be willing to endure some humiliations with the intention of protecting this sensitive project. Interrogations often involved a loss of control, so to observe and verify how a candidate reacted under pressure, in adverse conditions. When subjected to prolonged periods of sleep deprivation, malnutrition, coercion, enticement, seduction and myriad other stress scenarios, the circumstances imposed upon them enabled the gauging of candidate durability. It was imperative they knew every risk to define any potential hazards posed by the project selectees. Possessing profound implications, including its potential military applications, it was much too significant a discovery to place in jeopardy with one faulty decision. Flicker was much more important than the sum of its souls on either side of assessment tables. It could only prove to be a gift to humanity if the discovery was handled with care.
Colin was correct. The Ethics Council had been the first of these high-powered committees to sign off on Ethan’s project submission, a real peacock feather in his cap. It was recognized as quite an accomplishment by all involved in the project. A normally headstrong section of the committee, it was considered the largest hurdle by all petitioners and had denied many proposals in the past. With his usual stoic resolve, Ethan had committed to remain true to his principles during the grueling process, come what may. It paid off in the end, which was only the beginning. His was one of only three project submissions to survive such intense scrutiny, that is, since the Van Ruden incident which occurred when it all began.
Back in the year 2008, September 10th to be precise, a consortium of scientists, physicists, mathematicians, theorists and a support staff gathered from universities and laboratories. Through the miracle known as the internet more than ten thousand people from over one hundred countries witnessed history in the making: the first tests of the Large Hadron Collider (or LHC). Built by the European Organization of Nuclear Research (or CERN), this massive new machine built along the border of Switzerland and France was the world’s largest, most powerful particle collider. It took a decade to construct and it was built primarily to test the endless theories and predictions regarding particle physics and high-energy physics while connected on the worldwide web to thirty-five countries. All the initial trials went very well, moving particles within milliseconds of the speed of light, smashing them together.
Everything changed on September 19, 2008 when the quench incident occurred. There was a bending of one hundred giant magnets. Six tons of liquid helium leaked out with the impact of a massive explosion. Were they tinkering with elements too unstable and unpredictable? Were they playing God? The LHC took its first hit, its first hiccup, or was it their first warning? For the next fourteen months the program was halted.
The LHC went back online and testing resumed in November of 2009 but prior to that, back in December of ’08, CERN released a complete analysis report of the quench incident. It was incomplete. What was released to the public was press-safe, an explanation regarding the mechanical issues leading up to that event. What they neglected to include in the public report was the “anomaly” that occurred during it, lasting only .0009 seconds. This was ascertained during damage assessment review. Only then did they discover the anomaly when its monitoring cameras were slowed down and scrutinized frame-by-frame. Something strange occurred, something that was momentarily visible. Like the flash bulb from an old-fashioned camera, it was there and then it was gone. Thermal imaging cameras in position, there to read heat variations, fluctuations during particle testing, detected a doorway, not a manmade construction but more of an opening, a vortex.
CERN immediately found itself compartmentalized, their new Top Secret label stamped above this occurrence. Until they could discern what this was, or was not, the nature of it had to be studied. Until they could determine if this was a perpetual threat or some uncontrollable benevolent occurrence, by necessity it would remain cloaked in secrecy, available only to key members at the facility. Of ten thousand people involved in the original project, only about two hundred and twenty-five had knowledge of or any access to it as it morphed into something else entirely. Those privileged to be involved were instructed to comply with a newly drafted, enforced protocol. Though there was no designation for it at the time, it eventually came to be known as The Flicker Project...or Flicker.
Almost immediately after the anomalous event occurred, new project directions and a subsequent cover story emerged on December 15, 2009. It was an experiment in ion collision to determine the nature and qualities of phenomena known as quark-gluon plasma. Theorized to have been in existence since the “early” Universe, still in existence in some compact form in current times, it was presumed to be more of a rediscovery of “The God Particle”. The method utilized for particle collision was designated ALICE and the “looking glass” it created appeared to be an example of the theoretical Einstein-Rosen Bridge. What was once merely a hypothesis would transform into reality before the eyes of a select few who could barely believe what they were witnessing.
Many attempts were made to recreate the doorway, yet, it was not until May of 2011 when they’d actually succeeded. The general research access was open to all but the results of that primary research were, in fact, secondary to this discovery. Flicker remained clandestine, flying under the radar. The area where this anomaly consistently reappeared was restricted, guarded, claiming it to be hazardous during testing. Nobody outside the scope of the initial team was allowed to observe, those who had been there since the inception of the covert project. There were only a few “necessary” people to inform from both operations logistics and security protocol. They were aware of what was happening but were not technically involved, not for the first two years, anyway. During that time, there were countless offline off the grid experiments to attempt to sustain the vortex, to keep the door open. Successes were slow but consistent. A minimal military presence was required and they wore civilian clothing, always on the scene should something enter through the doorway. Nothing ever did. Instead, once they could control the opening, their research team began breaches with robotic probes, cameras attached. All they saw was the facility but there was a slight time delay. It was calculated that eight seconds had elapsed, or, in other words, what they were observing was eight seconds in the past.
For the next year they tried all variants of testing to effect a change so to control and perfect the length of time the door could remain open. Measuring the collision speeds of particles, by increasing the intensity of additional magnets placed around the anomaly, they were finally able to intensify, specify and regulate the depth back in time and the duration of the opening as well as the geographical destination. That took a little more time to perfect. Time exploration of space would, no doubt require more power than imaginable. The initial trials made the quantum leap from probes to people in a relatively short period of time. Like a child playing with his father’s gun, it wasn’t long before the first shot was fired. Only then did scientists, all giddy with success, wake up to its stark reality. The Van Ruden incident was that gunshot.
Anson Van Ruden was candidate number four during their early trials. The first brave men were involved in a “step in step out” scenario which they did at various points and locations in time. Every opening of Flicker was designated for arrival in late night hours, so to lessen the potential for human contact with the one jumping through. The return trip was surprisingly simple. As long as the doorway remained open and the traveler knew its location then he needed merely to walk back into it. The portal was, on either side, undetectable to the naked eye. Only through thermal imaging could it be seen. So, it could be in Times Square or located in the center of a soccer field and no one would know it. The traveler need only remember where he’d entered to exit.
The third had taken the longest trip, two hours away halfway around the world on an uninhabited Pacific island. The fourth trial involved the candidate Anson Van Ruden, a physicist. He was scheduled to take a six hour trip. The doorway in time took a massive amount of energy to open but sustaining the opening required both proper and precise magnetic positioning and amplitude. Like thrusters on booster rockets of the Space Shuttle, Flicker used an immense amount of energy to escape the gravitational pull exerted from present time before it could freely float in the zero gravity of the past. This was a two-fold stress test of Flicker’s capabilities for depth of time and geographical distance. A plethora of run-throughs had to be made to see how long the door would stay open and how far back in time it would reach before the portal would “flame out” requiring days or even weeks to reformat the collider for yet another gauging of its potential limits. Thus far the farthest back the vortex seemed to remain stable, not in flux, was assessed through a series of probes and stellar computations to be the year 1947. Any attempts to probe deeper into the past was akin to a breaker box on steroids tripping off. CLEAR and RESET! These tests and experiments helped the think tank begin calculations on the engineering adjustments necessary to breach the current limit.
Dr. Van Ruden had a stocky, six-foot-three build. If not for his brilliant mind, he could’ve easily passed for a fifty-six year old lumberjack with his ruddy cheeks, flaming red hair, a beard and handlebar moustache. He was a trusted and respected member of The Consortium. His destination was also scaled and recorded for the farthest geographical point the quantum leap would reach. As a previously visited location during the last venture, a remote deserted island in the Pacific was a likely choice. It was widely theorized that when the amount of energy expended for depth of time was minimized the geographical opportunities would increase substantially, but repeated trials proved when the timeline was stretched to its maximum capacity their window of physical or global distance and duration actually narrowed. Anson Van Ruden’s trial was expected to go just as uneventfully as the others had, were it not for the fact that three hours into his excursion, he came upon a scared Japanese soldier who thought World War II was still an ongoing conflict. What ensued was a wild chase through the jungle, a foreign soldier repeatedly shooting at him despite Anson’s attempts to explain his presence as harmless in the six languages he knew, none of them Japanese, trying to convince the man the war was over.
As Anson reached the doorway he had pre-marked for his exit, he was attacked by the younger, though much weaker combatant. His rifle ammunition depleted, he went after the larger Anson with his bayonet, thrashing and screaming incoherently. As they wrestled Anson finally got the upper hand as the warrior was malnourished. Grabbing the handle of the blade, Anson twisted it inward, penetrating the soldier’s abdomen. As the pitiful soldier looked up at Anson in shock, his woeful life fading away, he tumbled backward, taking Dr. Van Ruden with him. The direction of that fateful fall carried both of them right through the doorway of the Flicker.
Both men came through the portal, crashing to the floor in a pool of blood. For a moment everyone froze, dazed and confused by the sight. Several members of the team ran over to them to find the combatant dead. Anson was physically unharmed, though obviously in shock. Four of the senior staff immediately decided to assist in helping him carry the body back through the doorway, making sure before and after that they did what was necessary. No physical evidence remained in the past of the altercation with someone from the future. The major issue: what other harm might have occurred? For several minutes everybody stood around staring at one another as if they had just broken their mother’s favorite vase in the cosmic parlor.
The timeline being disturbed, fears surfaced, beyond knowing whether (or not), one by one, each of them would begin to vanish like those in the photo Marty McFly carried with him of his siblings and himself in the classic film “Back to the Future”. They were in uncharted territory. Who was this young Japanese man who just died sixty-five years ago? Was he supposed to be rescued, perhaps become a war hero? Go into politics? Was his destiny to become president of Mitsubishi Corporation or was he just an average “nobody” whose offspring was now a part of their coalition? Like Scopes, everyone watched everyone else.
Fortunately, not. Their next few days were spent feverishly researching his dog tag identification, a scouring of war records for him or his lineage to determine if his body was ever recovered and if any potential descendants were in existence. It was an exhaustive effort made through every conceivable resource at their disposal. Relieved that the lost, deceased soldier named Michio Tamakusuku had been listed as “missing in action” at the end of the war, it appeared Dr. Van Ruden had only hastened his inevitable demise, his quick death, a mercy.
A false sense of security was instilled in some while other members among The Consortium still theorized, wondering if their actions might have disrupted history. Could it be the reason why that soldier was never found? The conundrum was itself a vicious cycle. Nervously waiting to see if what occurred had altered them, if there was a “change” back in 1947 (due to their interference), there would be no possible way for them to recognize this change had occurred if it did. Most suffered a brain freeze over the incident, something akin to sucking down a Slurpee too fast. Many of them were burdened by it, over-processing a paradox, the intrinsic consequences of time travel as they reckoned and reconciled it against the advancement of science for the betterment of humanity. Some of them quit while others requested (and were granted) reassignment off-site, away from Flicker.
There would be no turning back, no stopping these opportunities for discoveries concerning the mortal mistakes made in the past. To determine what was accurately documented in history and what was not: it was too crucial and far too precious an opportunity to abandon because of one glitch. As the saying goes, history is written by the victors. It was the first time this technology was available for scientists and other scholars to peek through the looking glass of ALICE, to witness actual history as it occurred. Flicker was an altruistic endeavor. To dismiss a great gift, this virtual “microscope” capable of peering into the living history of humankind would be an abomination regardless of the inherent risks imposed by the discovery. For them to forsake their effort would be plain irresponsible, an act of wanton disregard for the human race. Events in history which may not have played out precisely as recorded in the annals of time could be exacted, clarified; rectified for future generations. An ability to leap through time was not a reckless endeavor. On the contrary, from the moment the ability to do so existed it became an imperative act of conscience. Poets know the truth. “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” (George Santayana)
Anson Van Ruden resigned from the candidate program and immediately began forming the Flicker Trial Consortium Oversight Committee (FTCOC) to ensure the establishment of strict protocols, standards, inquiry, as stringent training regimens, so every candidate was prepared, made fully aware of the responsibilities and risks involved with time travel. It was imperative that each candidate be trusted implicitly with such a sensitive and truly provocative discovery. For over a century scientists, theorists, university scholars, writers and, of course, film producers have posed the concept of the potential consequences of traveling back in time. The notion that the linear event of time could simply be redirected or changed by the slightest act of a time traveler became a concern of frightening proportions. The FTCOC made this the top priority on a long list of alterations built into this institutionalized think tank and subsequent program, rapidly expanding into the collective of councils and sub-councils, each committee created to serve a specific purpose.
The Ethics Council was the penultimate panel, the spearhead committee of The Consortium. Anson took the lead role, ensuring those chosen as candidates were of good stock, strong stable mind. Those selected completed a plethora of compulsory questionnaires and review forms from test trials to remove any doubts. Anyone void of moral fiber could conceivably, for purely selfish reasons, contaminate a process, jeopardizing the program. Whether due to a political persuasion, a religious agenda or otherwise, whatever the impetus, deliberately tampering with the timeline of the past to change the known present or the unknown future would be a disastrous, epic failure. If The Consortium let even one bad seed slip through the crack in its barrel the results of such an oversight could be catastrophic for humanity. Knowing these inherent risks, candidates selected would have to be approved by the entire group. The vote was anonymous and had to be unanimous for acceptance into the program, no exceptions made. It was the prerequisite of paramount importance. Essentially, the Ethics Council called all the shots. Their responsibilities were the most difficult, tasked with peering into the heart, mind and soul of another human being.
Until their discovery of the portal, the scientific community almost uniformly theorized that any devised method of time travel would require some machine that would likely have an adverse effect on any and all electronic devices utilized in its function. Just as the electromagnetic pulse in a nuclear detonation overloads every device impacted by it, a time machine would shut down the electrical impulses of the brain and body. A perfect indication of what mankind does not yet know about the Universe, the Flicker had no such drawbacks. It was simply a doorway. Anyone carrying anything could merely walk through it, experiencing no ill effects but there was concern for the return.
The Medical Review Board, staffed by several top minds in modern medicine, included specialists in world medical history. They, along with their support team, would be responsible for examining and approving all the candidates. History itself was one critical component, another valuable resource for the committee, providing documentation of plague and pestilence, epidemics, pandemics afflicting the world, pinpointing a specific virus down to the week of the outbreak then exactly where it occurred yet, viruses mutate. Diseases presenting during various stages across ages of human existence have evolved along with mankind. Of course not every calamity was chronicled, so it was a bit of a crap shoot, after all, the deathly serious guessing game of Russian roulette. To insure these landmines were avoided precautions were taken, yet there was no immunity anybody could build (like muscle mass) to guard against past plagues which ravaged Europe hundreds of years before these travelers were born. Ironically, having been born into a world currently riddled with disease had its benefits. If one survived the exposures of childhood into adulthood, chances were their immune system has sufficiently developed enough to provide a modicum of protection for candidates who proved worthy of taking the leap.
It was imperative that time travelers not deliver or receive any infectious illness. It was likewise essential these candidates comply with its rigorous medical training, expecting each to become proficient in triage techniques for “in the field” treatment. Should they succumb to any physical injuries they needed to have specialized skills, patching themselves up enough to allow for mobility to return to the portal location. “Medical” had to approve everything returning to the present, to make quite certain there were no pathogens or parasites hitchhiking a ride. Maintaining sterility within the project environment, going and coming, was the major focus of this department. The only cross-committee professional was one psychologist who was copied in on reports to the Ethics division. The mental stability of all project selectees was tested then retested for stressors, memory issues, phobias and a multitude of other criteria as the training occurred and progressed. Unlike the jump, it wasn’t a one-shot deal.
Then there was the Military and Security Committee. Their multitasking unit, this council comprised of civilian and uniformed representatives from twenty-two countries was a force to be reckoned with and a necessary evil. Dr. Van Ruden was extremely cautious around them, quite clever in his design for the use and limits of this division of their coalition. The LHC project designated its home near Geneva, Switzerland. Although the bulk of underground operations of the particle collider was actually located beneath French soil, in fact it was always a neutrally controlled operation. This being inarguable, the committee could and did control the military’s involvement at every step without having to concern itself with the historical record of them muscling in on projects of science, soon thereafter weaponized. Anson and his constituents understood the necessity for occupancy and the scope of their reach. From background checks to surveillance capability, the on-site security specialists were there to protect key members and candidates. Anson believed there wasn’t a single member in the military department of the organization that could ever pass the ethics requirements they so stringently enforced.
The Debriefing Council was the most difficult committee to staff. This was the post-event group, those charged with sifting through a candidate’s documentation, given full access to the individual for all subsequent interviews and examinations. Anson wore a secondary hat, holding a high position in this office, his own Flicker experience leading him to request all debriefing materials be copied to him. Yes, even the military got their crack at the returning travelers. This was the only sector of the process which integrated representatives from various religious institutions. Considering history’s sordid recording of religious involvement in political affairs, senior members of the committee felt pressure to glean all information, impressions from the time travelers; a faith-based assessment of events from their own unique perspectives. Discussions were encouraged but only after travelers had been fully debriefed, cleared for discharge. It was presumed that atheists would make the best candidates, logic at the core of a belief that there is no God. Instead, having faith in the “scientific method”, they relied on it to tell the truth. Those travelers with a foundation in a belief system involving a specific religious affiliation could expect some fascinating, spiritually significant conversations with the theologians after the fact, sharing their moments of epiphany about the project as personal revelations.
The remaining committee members were support staff, more involved with the ongoing time trials in The Valley. So many project requests being submitted from all over the world, The Consortium could afford to be selective, downright picky. It took years to get to the go ahead point in the process and the importance of trial runs at The Valley factored heavily into the equation, essential to it once a research submission was approved. The fact that it was in England on the grounds of Oxford University mattered little to influences of the opposition against the project overall, as it was only preliminary “plays” and not the real thing, located in neutral Switzerland. However, to The Consortium and its candidates, the play was the thing. The critical element of recreating specific moments in time allowed them to witness the event but also acclimate to the conditions surrounding it. Likewise, it allowed for further contemplation and questions to arise that may not have been considered prior to the trials, asking all the “what ifs” remaining before the actual event became a reality.
On July 4, 2012 the LHC posted the detection of a new elemental particle called Higgs boson so it became their new cover story. This critically important discovery provided the justification for expansion of the Flicker project, buying enough time to obtain considerably more magnets intended to enhance a depth, length and reach through time. If The Consortium’s acquisition of additional materials for the still clandestine Flicker project was the easy part, attaining the doorway’s cooperation required two full years of calculations, coaxing and coercing to open the portal at a specific point in time. Then, to convince it to remain open as long as necessary was the objective, no small feat. The electromagnets actively pressuring a doorway to obey a human command, the huge magnets increased the functioning of the particle accelerator, reinforcing both the structural integrity and stability of the portal. As was theorized and anticipated, developing the ability to manipulate the doorway, to control the collider to such an extent was a significant breakthrough, a catalyst for all future Flicker endeavors. From that moment on, a new element of “control” was established. Submissions were being accepted from various fields of expertise and The Valley test trials at Oxford began.
On February 14, 2014 the LHC announced an extended “shut down” to prepare the collider for a higher energy and luminosity. It was the second public cover story released as The Consortium’s covert program became fully integrated with the LHC published project directive. Then, on March 20, 2014, the time trials went public. A release of information was simply a matter of going through the motions for The Consortium that had all of its security measures and primary protocols routinely in place. Well-prepared, public relations representatives were there to handle any and all concerns regarding various implications of disrupting the time continuum. Any biased reporting was contested, scrutinized long before reaching the court of public opinion. They had an answer for everything when questions arose.
Then it became about money and power. What a surprise. People of wealth and influence wanted access to the publicly-funded project, some, all but demanding to be granted permission to submit their proposals. Permission granted! (All that was granted.) These forthcoming submissions soon revealed secret agendas, banking on Flicker to be used for personal gain. Once their hefty contributions were transferred, secure in The Consortium accounts, “The Donors” (affectionately known in-house) were bombarded with reams of paperwork, overwhelmed by stipulations, rules and regulations as requirements of the program. From the Legal and Ethics departments to the prerequisite military clearance necessary to go forward, it was made clear to the fortune seekers, those pursuing access to Flicker, this was a commitment unlike any other. Those accustomed to maintaining their privacy at all cost were suddenly thrust into a new reality, their personal lives scrutinized with good reason, read like an open book. In spite of their investment, any attempts made in earnest to buy their way into the program, it was shocking how fast they would abandon ship once they realized the depths of its intrusion and duration of the process, a seemingly endless ordeal. No refunds were allowed. There was nothing altruistic about their proposals. Self-gratifying submissions were never destined to see the light of Flicker. Since humble taxpayers had been footing the bill for the research all along, it seemed only fair for the rich and famous to start kicking something into the coffers, an excellent way to subsidize the project without jeopardizing it and at the expense of those who could most afford it.
As they held back going public, The Consortium had daily conferences off-site to discuss every nuance of intent, scrutinizing those who would utilize this portal, revisiting the reasons why they’d be going and for what duration. The team created nomenclatures for every department of review then broke down various duties and responsibilities of each oversight committee during the specific trip taken. Overall, the primary ideology was to function as an “Objective Observer”, a.k.a. Scope when referencing the candidate who’d met all the criteria for approval to go back in time. Above all else, the understanding was consistent: no matter who was chosen, they were not to do anything that might affect the timeline as recorded in history. In fact, it was so driven into the psyche of every selectee, it became almost religious fervor. It became their belief system, their creed and code of honor.
Ethan LaPierre had as much faith in his trial submission as he did in the Flicker. He was one of the few original selectees handpicked by Anson Van Ruden who had met and exceeded the criteria. They’d been introduced at Oxford back in 2008 after Ethan’s graduation, with honors. His curiosity piqued by the chronic over-achiever, Anson was interested in knowing more about this man, specifically why his course of study appeared so eclectic, having earned several degrees in Theoretical Physics, History and Philosophy. Anson attempted to recruit him into their research program at that time, to no avail. Ethan had other plans which included teaching, continuing to walk the hallowed halls as a professor at the same institution where he had spent his entire adulthood attending class. Turning down his initial offer, he instead chose to accept the adjunct professor position available in the History Department. Ethan LaPierre was satisfied, prepared to wait his turn to rise in the ranks of academia, no higher aspirations haunting him. Nothing was lurking in the back of his agile mind. Anson would not take “no” for an answer, approaching him persistently, reminding his acquaintance and new colleague of the real opportunity awaiting him.
It was not until The Consortium went public with the program that Ethan took notice, reconnecting with Anson Van Ruden at that time, still firmly entrenched in the project. Anson was delighted to hear from him, his graveled voice exclaiming: “Well! Doctor, I knew you’d come around!” Truthfully, Ethan never discarded the invitation extended nor did he shrug off the concept. He simply never expected this rocket to launch. Now, with their project in orbit, how could Ethan pass up such an incredible opportunity to witness history firsthand then be able to report on it? To rewrite history from a first person perspective seemed sinfully self-indulgent, were it not for the pertinence of his unique proposal, the intrinsic meaning regarding the time and the events addressed in his submission.
They’d had a number of promising trial scenarios submitted to The Consortium but most would never be realized because the selectee ultimately proved to have a rather questionable, perhaps unscrupulous past. Choosing somebody to be a Scope was serious business, indeed. To assign such a position to someone without them enduring the long, painstaking process of intense scrutiny, without knowing every nuance of their psychology and morality would be the height of irresponsibility. It would be as dangerous as someone wielding a loaded gun in a drunken rage. Were it not for some of the most brilliant minds on the planet converging on this project, a collection of characters as diverse as their fields of expertise, Flicker would not have progressed past the point of theoretical inquiry. Anson at the helm, there were many other hands at his disposal to help steady the wheel of history when it turned. Without their learned participation there would be no possible way for this program to be fully embraced by the scientific community, let alone beyond its parameters. Powerful voices provided the credibility required, igniting the spark of curiosity to move Flicker forward.
From March 20, 2014 to present, August 2020, one thousand and sixty-four trial submissions from various individuals or organizations around the globe crossed the desks of those designated to receive them. It was a little too popular a project! Many from the ultra-rich were intending to satisfy a debt, including business and property disputes, ancestral lineage, several financial entitlements and even one who wanted to catch his wife in the act of infidelity. There were governmental submissions, too. No preferential treatment was extended.
There had also been a slew of passionate pleas, heartbreaking submissions from people who were looking for their lost or missing loved ones. These applications to the project were limitless and these issues had to be handled delicately. None of the proposals ever made it to a selectee status, processed out of contention because of the emotional nature of the trial requests. Should any of these scenarios forge some steely resolve for revenge once facts formerly shrouded in secrecy were revealed, should such knowledge result in an act of blind rage, the ripple effects that followed would be devastating. No one was allowed to travel through time subjectively.
The Legal Department handled all the political jargon when a submission was denied, accompanied by a rather large stack of assessment forms, files and reports, all submitted by the Review Board in response to applications, explaining a “cause and effect” regarding the trial rejection. Keeping it all in perspective wasn’t always easy but it was a necessary evil done in the name of doing something good for all of humanity. Judging by the number of appeals and resubmissions or the attempted lawsuits, there was nothing frivolous about it. The Consortium paused to reflect on the process, considering the concept of doing more harm than good. Many members of their team had taken the Hippocratic Oath and intended to uphold it. Reviewing the body of evidence, they finally declared themselves entirely justified, absolved of blame for refusing emotionally charged submissions. One thing could rightfully be said of the members of The Consortium. They always maintained their integrity and always had the best of intentions.
After six years and over a thousand submissions, only seventeen made the cut, having met the criteria to move onto candidate interviews. Of these, only eight went on to time trials in The Valley and from those, only three received final approval to proceed on to Flicker. The first two selectees had thus far passed through the portal, objectively recording their chosen time frame in real time. The first successful run of the project coincided with the public announcement of the second startup of the particle collider in April of the year 2015.
“All the experiments conducted at the LHC so far are part of ‘run one’.
This week, after several years of upgrading the LHC’s magnets (which speed up and control the flow of particles) and data sensors, it’ll begin ‘run two’: a new series of experiments that will involve crashing particles together with nearly twice as much energy as before.”
Vox.com news article: 16 April 2015
Though the public statement was regarding the source energy being doubled for particle discovery, the impact for Flicker was far greater and remained Top Secret. The additional magnets used to coerce the doorway were actually installed late in 2012 and the potential for length of time and location seemed boundless. As if they had invented an endless battery, an exhaustive array of experiments and probes had confirmed that the window into the past was wide open with a virtual reach of two millennia or more. Over the next eighteen months, test trials continued with a focus on perfecting the collaboration of all three aspects of the time jump. Formula after formula written on chalkboards was then fed into their supercomputers to exact the equations so a date, location and duration of Flicker’s projected target was executed flawlessly. Once its precise calibrations and subsequent calculations were presented to The Consortium they could proceed with the true nature of the research, sending an explorer back in time. The first was a brilliant gent from Cambridge by the name of Dr. William Fontaine, a linguistics professor and archeologist. A man of superior moral fiber and impeccable reputation, known personally by a number of top brass in The Consortium, his soaring intellect and adventurous spirit caused the decision makers to label him as “good stock” then passed the word around. He sailed through the approval process.
Dr. Fontaine’s event for Flicker was so intriguing, benevolent in nature, its only obstacle, mastering the language through phonemic awareness of ancient Egypt, so to grasp the intrinsic meaning and true substance of what he might hear and witness during his excursion. Flicker took an intrepid traveler back in time testing the limits of the doorway’s reach to an era during which the Great Pyramid of Giza was being created, circa 2570 BC, a project “currently” under construction. There were a great many test “jumps” made prior to the actual project approval, all of which transpired without incident. Dr. Fontaine’s first words upon his return through the portal:
“Sorry, chaps. No aliens in sight!”
The success of man’s first walk on the metaphorical moon of time left FTCOC members popping the corks of champagne bottles in celebration! The world? It was still intact. Planet Earth did not stop spinning on its axis and explode (or some other fearful manifestation of Hollywood filmmaking at its worst) but continued on. With a collective sigh, they cried and sang songs, a festive occasion. None of them were so naïve as to believe every Flicker episode would go as smoothly but it was a check in the win column for the process that was still very much a mystery. Their ALICE project and subsequent phenomena it created was all accidental, its origin unknown. How could a particle collision not only be coerced but controlled? Deemed “a force of nature” by the team of scientists who could barely comprehend it, they were all well aware that, historically, forces of nature are not something mankind has had much success controlling. Everything hypothesized from cloud-seeding to HAARP turned out to be another fruitless endeavor, wasted attempts to control the elements. Delving into the smallest particles known to science, man should rightfully expect a few surprises along the way but nobody anticipated opening up a vortex as a portal to the past. With one tiny flicker of light, a new world was revealed.
The second mission launched on July 19th in 2017 was, well, yet another hiccup. A situation arose that, in spite of all the time trials and criteria requirements for the candidates, was never considered. A famous billionaire philanthropist had become selectee number two. He had performed exemplary charity work lifelong, donating much of his time to global causes. Canadian born, David James Cox had passed all pre-trial formalities with superlatives. As their time trials in The Valley produced hard facts, formatting all the necessary guidelines for his Flicker project, this man’s pragmatic rationality and level-headed approach made it easy for every committee to approve his submission. Allowed to proceed, on the day he had been scheduled to go back in time, to step through the gateway, he froze in place at the threshold. Like somebody facing the anxiety of their first rollercoaster ride, David Cox could not have been dragged, pushed or pulled through it. Sometime during an exhaustive selection approval process the burden of personal responsibility got to him, fear he associated with any potential altering of the timeline continuum. He told no one of this feeling during his early screenings, even in The Valley trials. Cox truly believed his innate intelligence would gradually override this anxiety so he could rationalize the newly developed phobia and press on. His subconscious mind had other plans.
David managed to disguise his trepidation with their prep team earlier that day. However, from the moment he stepped toward Flicker, Cox was overwhelmed with fear. Although he could not visibly perceive the gateway entrance, it was designated by a series of lines on the floor leading to it. From his unique vantage point he could see all of their monitors, thermal imagery of himself displayed on multiple screens simultaneously as these dramatic events unfolded, being recorded from every angle. Never let them see you sweat? One could hardly miss it! Alarms ringing in his head signaled a sense of urgency. Cox panicked. Suddenly overcome with raw emotion, drenched, nauseated, a veritable tidal wave of terror swept over him.
He stopped. Suspense rising in the lab, David Cox broke his momentum, staring at a computer monitor, an alternate perspective. Everyone could see the heat rising, radiating off his body. Petrified, he began again, focused instead on the line leading up to an open portal unseen by the naked eye. Walking toward this invisible vortex, following the trail, his gaze never deviated from it as he approached the final mark. Nearing the threshold he paused to reflect on his precarious predicament. No. There were too many variables in this equation. No. Operations were immediately halted.
Unprepared after all, fear triumphed. A stoic pragmatist succumbed to a human emotion. Though they wanted to try it again, before he could, Mr. Cox had to revisit the psychiatrist, a physician required to address this underlying issue. If there was any hope of him achieving his desired objectives, they’d first have to successfully rewire his thought process so he could identify then confront his insidious nemesis. It took nearly two months of mental restructuring to reveal the culprit. Defeating it took some effort. When his “fight or flight” mechanism kicked into high gear, Cox flew the coop. It was time to fight the feeling. Fear stopped him dead in his tracks.
During this reprogramming, the Flicker door remained open into the past as a team of scientists took the glass half full approach, using this down time to test the stability of the vortex. It never flamed out. This window of opportunity to test the extended duration the doorway could remain open was a serendipitous contribution to Ethan’s project which required more than two months to complete.
It was true. There were many variables. Stepping through the portal might prove to be a step in the wrong direction, past the point of no return. An exclusive form of human experimentation came with conditions that may not always be duplicative in a controlled setting. This research project still in its infancy, others had gone and come back unscathed but there was no guarantee, no implicit promise of safe return. It was virtually impossible to predict. No scientist at the LHC facility could assure a selectee that the portal would preserve its structural integrity in their absence. As a natural phenomenon, the vortex could close as inexplicably as it had opened with no prior notice. The team had to trust the conditions they so consistently recreated to keep a doorway revolving as travelers had to place their trust in the team to get it right. They had to be willing to go in spite of this awareness, disregarding inherent risks. They had to be willing to take the plunge into the past, into the deep end of the pool. A natural fear swirled around the knowledge they might not come back up for air, not in the 21st Century. Diving in meant overcoming it, perhaps in spite of it.
Like astronauts soaring into space with no guarantee of a safe, soft landing, an uncommon courage is called for in committing an act of insane bravery so extreme, it appears as reckless abandon. All explorers want to know they can go home again but that is not the nature of true exploration. Great discoveries often result in great losses. Archaeologists in pursuit of artifacts, digging up history to find the answers they seek, have been lost to harsh elements or unseen perils at the excavation sites. Anthropologists have been lost to the hazards of the Amazon. Astronauts have been lost in space, sacrificed to the Universe for the sake of knowledge, human progress. Yes, the potential existed for travelers to be lost in time, abandoned to another age. They were risking their lives. No denying it. Yet, the deepest, darkest fears revealed in therapeutic sessions with the candidates involved a concept more frightening; a fate worse than death. Their fear of being left behind, alive and well, lost to history itself on the other side of a disappearing doorway is what scared them the most. It is what kept some of them up at night. Not all fear is irrational. In search of eternal answers, few are capable of answering the call of destiny, requiring an unwavering faith, an uncommon valor in the face of potential adversity.
In order to fulfill his research proposal, David Cox had to conquer his own fears, defeat a doubt or whatever trepidation had abruptly halted his forward momentum. As it turned out, there was nothing “personal” about it. He was not afraid to die or, by some quirk of fate, live on in another time. His concerns were the same with the project as they had been for all mankind, a testament to his character. Devoting his lifetime to the betterment of society, this soft spot for humanity proved detrimental to his effort on their behalf. He was scared to death he’d inadvertently do something imprudent, perhaps out of ignorance, something that would permanently disrupt the timeline. Altering the established course of history was not the way he wanted to change the world. The Van Ruden incident had left an indelible impression on him. If it could happen once...what if...how to subjugate such an insurmountable sense of impending doom. Dread in his heart is what stopped him at the door, overcome in the moment by overpowering worry, an inability to trust his own judgment. If he made a mistake...one mistake... it could result in an incalculable loss.
David was an altruistic human being, a rare individual who harbored only good intentions for his fellow man. There was an innocence about him, an aura of purity, an otherworldly essence easy to detect and hard to dismiss. In his heart, he knew he would not deliberately do anything to disturb the timeline and would do everything in his power to preserve it. Once he had accepted the truth of his circumstances, he reconciled himself to the fact. No guarantees? No problem. By embracing his fear, it dissipated into the ether through which he would travel on his way to elsewhere. Reluctance waned, replaced with his personal conviction, a newfound determination. Finally ready to pass confidently through the portal, he knew he would do the right thing while there so to prevent a tragic, irreversible mistake here. As for the rest of it? He rested it in God’s hands.
From that point, what came to be known as the “Cox Paradox” was systematically integrated into the Flicker program, so to prepare other candidates for any particular internal conflict of this magnitude. Cox ultimately completed his event flawlessly, as predicted. Coming back to the future right on time, as a triumph of the scientific method, probability and statistics saved the day and the man. His research project? Stonehenge, circa 3100 BC. Once again, no aliens reported.
Dr. Ethan LaPierre was the third approval and the next individual from present day to step into the past under the FTCOC guidelines. Who knew exactly how long mankind’s luck was going to last tempting fate? Was it human arrogance to actually believe they could harness this power and control it, in a way, package it and market the concept? After all, that theory worked so well with regards to the atomic bomb. Still, a determined necessity to know the truth of the past persisted. What errors in judgment had been made? Likewise, if mistakes were made recording those events, it seemed the perfect opportunity to clarify these errors then set the record straight, virtually rewriting the history book, removing the dark clouds hanging over a shady human past. Some argued since humans were still here, no one had yet to blow up the world, it was a good reason to leave well enough alone. Flicker was too risky, tampering with what had already transpired. The Consortium rejected this narrow mindset. It was time to explore “time” itself. If the excited scientists were aware of the implications of this discovery, they were so enamored with its assets they never fully considered the liabilities, overlooking the obvious concept attached to it. Just because they could did not necessarily mean that they should. It was not splitting hairs to split atoms nor was it a small matter to deliberately cause matter to collide. This is the true nature of exploration.