There was a knock on the door. Three loud knocks. Jason was still half-asleep at his desk, which was sprawled with papers, journals, notes with unproven theorems. He glanced up at the window. It was dark outside.
Another three knocks. Jason groggily ambled over and started to unlock it.
“Grace, if it’s about the textbook, I’ll return it—”
It wasn’t Grace at the door. A man in a black suit and tie stood there in the hallway of the dorm building.
“Mr. Eisenburg, I presume?” said the man in black.
“Uh, is this about the tuition? I just need more time—”
“No, I’m afraid this is about something much more important,” said the man in black. “I’m from the FBI. Can I come in for a moment of your time?” He flashed a badge that looked legit to Jason, though admittedly, Jason had no idea what those were supposed to look like.
“Sure, sure. Okay,” said Jason, now very awake.
“Thank you,” said the FBI agent as he walked into the dorm room. It was small and crowded with piles of books and things that a grad student would have.
“Uh, can I ask what this is about?” asked Jason as the agent closed the door behind him.
“You may want to be sitting down for this,” said the agent.
Jason took a seat in the chair at his desk; the chair now pointed at the man standing in his room.
“I’ll cut to the chase, Mr. Eisenburg. You should stop your research on the wormhole thing. We’ll pay you handsomely for the rest of your life if you stop.”
“What?!”
“It’s an offer.”
“I um… can I think about this?”
“You can as long as you want. We’ll start crediting to your account every month. As long as you don’t publish about it,” said the agent.
“You’re not from the FBI, are you?” said Jason.
“Don’t pry into things you shouldn’t, Mr. Eisenburg.”
“What if I refuse?” said Jason.
“Unwise,” said the agent. He started moving his hand towards his pocket. There was a knock on the door.
The man in black disappeared.
“Jason! Are you in there? Are you okay?” said a soft, feminine voice from outside the door.
“Grace. I don’t know,” said Jason.
Jason moved towards the door. His hands were shaking. Had that been a hallucination? Was the stress getting to him? He got to the door, took a deep breath, and opened it.
Grace Lynn stood in the hallway, another grad student in physics like Jason. They were just friends. “Are you okay? You look pale,” said Grace.
“I uh, think I may have seen a ghost,” said Jason.
“What?” said Grace.
“Nevermind. What’s uh, what’s up?” said Jason.
She peered at him. Her eyes seemed to peer into his very soul.
“The textbook,” said Grace.
“Oh, right, can I return it after the defence?” said Jason.
“Alright, but not a day later, okay?” said Grace.
“Of course,” said Jason. “Grace, I…”
“Hmm?”
He hesitated. It had felt very, very real. “I think, the stress is getting to me,” he said.
Grace looked worried. “How so?” she said as she sat down on his bed.
“I…” Thoughts ran through his mind. He knew in theory it was possible. Who had he told about his research? His supervisor, Grace, and… that was it.
“Do you know?” said Jason.
“Know what?” said Grace, seemingly confused.
“Do you know if it’ll work?” said Jason.
“You mean your crazy idea?” said Grace. “I honestly think it’s too ambitious, that the committee could reject your defence. Like I said before, timing is everything. It doesn’t have to be part of the thesis, you already have enough.”
“Are you with them?” said Jason
“What?” said Grace.
“I mean, uh.”
“Jason, how long have we known each other?”
“Since, first year.”
She put her hands to together, like she always did when she wanted to console him. “I’m on your side, believe me, I am.”
“I just…”
“Did something weird happen again?”
“A… a man from the… I don’t know for sure what agency—"
“Stop,” said Grace.
“I—”
Grace looked very, very worried. “You know I shouldn’t know about your financials. If the collection agency is back, you shouldn’t tell me anything,” she said.
“That’s…”
The look on Grace was strange. The thought came into his mind. It would be dangerous for her to know… if they were real anyway.
“Uh, yeah, just another collector, no worries, I’ll handle it.”
Grace still looked worried. “How’s the paper going?” she asked.
“I… I think maybe I shouldn’t write it,” said Jason.
“What?! You were hellbent on proving your theorem earlier!” she said, rather loudly at that.
“Uh, I think it doesn’t make sense, it’ll be rejected anyway,” said Jason, surprised.
Grace looked down. “If this is what you want, I can’t stop you. I just think… the world should know about your genius,” she said.
That was the first time she had complimented him like that. It was out of character.
“Don’t let ghosts hold you back,” said Grace. She got up and walked to the door.
“And remember to return my textbook,” she said. “Not a day late, okay?”
Jason turned to his desk. A notification sounded on his phone. Someone had deposited $5000 in his account.
* * *
Professor Andrew Markov sat at his rather large desk in his rather not so large office, his arms folded. There were books on the desk, books lining the floor to ceiling shelves, books in piles on the floor. It felt like the professor had more books than a library. Jason sat across from him in the less comfortable chair.
“I don’t think you can publish this,” said Markov.
“But it makes sense right?” said Jason.
“I doubt it’ll work, and I doubt a review committee would accept it,” replied Markov. “If it worked it would violate the No Communication Theorem.”
“I mean, with quantum entanglement, yes, but wormholes are different right?”
“A wormhole is impossible. It would violate causality.”
“That’s not proven! I mean, here’s the proof that the opposite is the case! That electrogravity is real, that Dirac’s original equations were correct, that antimatter has the negative mass needed to create an actual wormhole! You know what it could enable, professor. Just throw one end through a particle accelerator and have time dilation and voila, instant communication with the past… with the future! An actual, working, Ansible! A time machine!”
“That’s ridiculous, Jason. The experiments show that antimatter has positive mass. If it worked… this would use technology that’s decades old. If it could have been done, it would have been done already.”
“But they didn’t discover the theorem!”
Markov looked at Jason pensively. “My boy, how do you know?”
“It’s never been published,” said Jason. “It’s…”
“Some things are best left alone,” said Markov. “And, I have another meeting in five minutes, you should get going.”
* * *
A girl in the grey peacoat watched from the rooftop as Jason walked towards the bus stop. Beside her, a boy in a navy-blue jacket looked on as well.
“He’s still trying,” she said to him.
“They’ll try to stop him soon,” he replied.
“Should we intervene this time?” she asked.
“Still no authorization from HQ. It seems like someone else is involved,” he said.
“The Captain,” she said.
“The one they call the Dark Angel of Chaos? Ah, well then, let’s just watch,” he replied.
* * *
At the bus stop, Jason waited as usual. Not so usually, a black car rolled up in front of him. The door opened and the man in black stepped out.
“Mr. Eisenburg, let’s go for a ride,” the man in black said.
“Do I have a choice?” said Jason.
“Not really. You can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”
Jason stepped into the car.
* * *
They drove through long, winding streets. Eventually, they reached a tunnel. It seemed to stretch out forever. And then, a… Jason would guess it was a compound. It looked like a military base, but he’d never heard of any so close to the city.
“Follow me, Mr. Eisenburg,” said the man in black as they exited the car.
“Right,” said Jason.
They took an elevator down, far down. It had silvery metal walls that reflected everything. Jason noticed his face was pale. Eventually, they stopped and the doors opened.
It was a lab of some kind. Lots of strange gizmos and things. A tiny particle accelerator in a corner. Lots of people in lab coats going here and there. They walked forward.
“Mr. Eisenburg, I’d like to make you a job offer,” said the man in black.
“Uh, what?” said Jason.
“You have talents Mr. Eisenburg. You can tell who we are by now,” said the man in black. “Work for us, and you’ll never have to worry about anything ever again. You’ll have free reign with your research, potentially enormous power. You’ll serve your country well.”
“What’s the catch?” said Jason.
“You’ll never see the light of day again,” said the man in black. “But, I mean, the alternative is to send you into such a psychosis that you’ll never leave the mental hospital again. They won’t believe a word you say. It’s a traumatizing experience, I assure you.”
“Why not just erase my memories?” said Jason.
“The Accords prohibit nonconsensual direct interference in perceptions both past and present. It’s mutually assured chaos and destruction if we ever break that rule.”
“Oh.”
“There’s lots to learn if you join us.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You’ve seen too much. Psychosis, remember?
“Oh right.”
“That’s mean, Harrington!” said a soft, feminine voice.
The man in black turned back towards the elevator.
“Ah, the Captain is here,” said Harrington. “The Dark Angel of Chaos herself. What an honour.”
“Call me Grace,” said Grace.
“Grace?” said Jason.
Grace lifted her hand high above her head and snapped her fingers.
The world exploded into a million shards of light. The people in lab coats, the equipment, they all stopped moving midstride and turned greyscale, as if frozen in time.
“Do we really want to do this here now?” said Harrington. He turned and looked to the side. “I see,” he said, seemingly to no one.
“You know already how this would end,” said Grace, strange runes of blue light flickering around her, tracing paths of electricity.
“So, he’s your organization's originator,” said Harrington. “Fine, we won’t cross that line today.”
And with that, Jason was back in his dorm room, lying on his bed. Was that… a dream?
* * *
Jason sat at the table in the café across from Grace.
“Congrats on the publication,” said Grace, smiling pleasantly.
“Thanks, I couldn’t have done it without you,” said Jason.
“I’m sorry,” said Grace.
“What?”
“We can’t always protect you,” said Grace.
“…”
“There needs to be plausible deniability,” said Grace. “If we always saved you, you’d become dependent on us. They’d know we existed. You have a choice now.”
“…”
“You can forget we were ever friends or I’ll die in… an accident soon.”
“That’s absurd!” Jason shouted. The café was suddenly empty. “Why?!”
“I need to leave no trace,” Grace said. “I can’t explain exactly.”
“…your next mission,” said Jason.
“Yes,” said Grace. “Believe that if you want.”
“I thought that guy said you can’t erase memories,” said Jason.
“Not without informed consent,” said Grace.
“So, you’re giving me the choice.”
“Yes.”
“Fine, I don’t want you to die,” said Jason.
“Close your eyes,” said Grace.
“Okay?”
He closed his eyes. A moment later he felt her fingertips trace his forehead.
Jason woke up on the bed in his room again. Morning sunlight shined through the window. Who was Grace? A strange dream about a girl he’d never known.