The Prometheus Project: Stranded Part 3

"Thanks," broadcast Regan to the Teacher with as much power as she could.

There was no reply, which didn't really surprise them.

The existence of the Qwervy's observation post was supposed to remain a secret, off limits to humans and aliens alike. When the Qwervy discovered that humans had managed to find and enter their city, they considered expelling them and erasing their memories. While the Qwervy thought humanity was very promising, they knew the species had a dark and dangerous side it needed to master. They finally decided to let the team remain, but would not allow the Teacher to have any further contact with Ryan or Regan or help the team in any way. The human race would be on its own. The Qwervy wanted to see if humans could learn from the city's technology rather than destroy themselves with it. Humanity had thrown itself into deep water, and now it was time to see if the species would sink or swim. Only Ryan and Regan knew the exact nature of the Qwervy's decision and that they were keeping tabs on the team.

Ryan scratched his head. "This had to have been the Teacher's doing, all right, but I still don't get it. It's under orders not to help us. Call me crazy, but doesn't saving our lives count as helping us?"

Regan thought about this for a moment. "Maybe not. I mean, it did help us, but I think the idea was it wasn't supposed to help us if we got into trouble while messing around with Qwervy technology. We're supposed to be on our own with that. If we decide to play with fire and burn ourselves, that's our problem. But being hit by a runaway Hauler? Come on-that has nothing to do with how we use their technology. I bet that's why it saved us."

"Whatever the reason," said Ryan, "I'm not complaining." He paused. "At least we've figured out who saved us. How the Teacher did it is another story. We'll probably never know that."

"Dad might know what happened," said Regan hopefully. "You know, come up with some kind of weird physics theory."

"You think we should tell him?"

"Yes!" said Regan emphatically. "Why wouldn't we?"

Ryan considered. At first, harboring important secrets like the Prometheus Project and their telepathy had been fun, but this had quickly become a burden they were very tired of carrying. "I can think of a reason," he said finally, not looking at all happy about it. "If we told him what happened, we'd also have to tell him about the Teacher-about the Qwervy monitoring the team. We promised the Teacher we wouldn't do that." Ryan didn't know what would happen if they broke this promise, but he didn't want to risk finding out. He wouldn't be surprised if the Qwervy changed their mind and refused to allow them to explore the abandoned city any further.

"We wouldn't have to tell him about the Teacher and the Qwervy," said Regan.

"Yes we would. In the end we would. Dad's not stupid. He would know the timing couldn't be a coincidence. What are the odds of us turning into ghosts the exact instant the truck was about to hit us? Dad would figure out we're being monitored pretty fast-it's the only conclusion that makes any sense."

"We could lie and tell him it just happened out of the blue."

Ryan thought about this. He wondered if his father would even believe them. Solid objects just didn't become non-solid. That was even more impossible than the other impossible stuff they had seen. Heck, he almost didn't believe it, and it had happened to him. But this wasn't even the issue. "I don't think we should risk it, Regan," he replied at last. "Whatever the Teacher did to save our lives, it probably shouldn't have. It may have used an ability the Qwervy don't want humans to know about. I think we should keep this to ourselves."

Regan's eyes glistened as if she was holding back tears and severe disappointment was written all over her face. After having looked certain death in the eye her emotions were running high. Ryan knew exactly how she felt.

"I'm really sorry, Regan," he said softly, putting his hand on her shoulder. "I hate the idea of keeping this secret as much as you do."

They sat in silence for several minutes, each reflecting on their traumatic experience and trying to get their nerves back under control.

Mrs. Resnick emerged from the building and walked over to them, wondering why they had decided to plop themselves on the ground at this particular spot. Her eyebrows came together quizzically. "Having a picnic?" she said. She looked more closely at them. "Are you two okay? You look pale."

After staring death in the face, Regan didn't doubt it. "We're fine, Mom," she said, barely managing to fake a smile. "Must just be the lighting."

Ryan rose unsteadily from the ground and gestured toward the cart. "What are we waiting for?" he said, although with more weariness than enthusiasm. "Let's go see the Enigma Cube."

Five minutes later they parked the cart near a cylinder-shaped building with a surface as reflective as the finest mirrors on Earth. They watched themselves approach. The curved wall of the building distorted their reflections like a funhouse mirror. As they neared an opening appeared in the seamless structure and then disappeared once they were inside.

The floor was made from a smooth, polished material, pure white in color, that was one of several dozen building materials the Qwervy seemed to favor. It was similar in many ways to marble, only much harder. There were concentric rings etched into the floor spreading out from the center of the building, which had about as much s.p.a.ce inside as a large gymnasium. The far wall was totally transparent, providing a ma.s.sive window onto the sprawling city. Three foot by three foot cubes were sprinkled throughout the room and holographic projections, often used by the aliens as controls, appeared at different locations. The cubes were alien chairs, and would instantly reform themselves around any body type to provide unmatched comfort.

"Dad says this room is as perfect a circle as anyone has ever measured," said their mom as they walked toward its center.

The small alien artifact sat on the floor at the precise center of the room. The trio approached it carefully and crouched down to get a better view.

It was every bit as astounding as the kids had been told.

It had an outer sh.e.l.l of edges linked together to form an open, cubical cage, about the size of a Rubik's cube. Small indentations appeared at even intervals along this outer cage, possibly controls of some kind. It didn't have a color, but it shined with such unearthly brightness it seemed almost to be made of pure light. Within this outer cage was cradled a smaller, solid cube-but this was anything but normal. It was a cube yet not a cube. It was motionless but at the same time spinning furiously-their minds couldn't decide which of these distinct visual impressions to believe. It pulsated with a strange energy, as if it had a heart beat. Energy that seemed limitless. It changed back and forth continuously between a cube and other geometric shapes. Now it was a cube. Now a diamond. Now an impossible shape that was indescribable and unsettling to look at. The pulsating cube was almost hypnotic, drawing them in with its unearthly power. Yet they were unable to look at the object for more than a few seconds at a time without looking away.

Mrs. Resnick held out an arm in front of her kids as they began leaning forward for a closer look. "Not too close," she warned.

Their dad's team had learned that the cube was made of an unknown material and pulsed with an unknown energy-an energy they sensed was vast but that they had been unable to measure.

It also weighed 200,000 pounds! Slightly more than your average Rubik's cube.

When the cube had been found, Ben Resnick insisted on proceeding with extreme caution. Before it was touched or anything that might be a control was tried, he intended to contain it within the strongest force-shield Earth technology could manage. Human equipment that was to be used to accomplish this feat had been gathered and stored against one wall.

They would soon be ready to begin experiments, but Mr. Resnick had recently changed his mind about the cube. He was now arguing that it shouldn't be studied any further, no matter how great the precautions. The team had long talked about the danger of playing with advanced technology they didn't understand. How even an innocent electrical outlet could be lethal to a caveman who decided to stick a finger inside to investigate. But in the case of the Enigma Cube, Mr. Resnick believed they were more like cavemen who had stumbled upon a nuclear warhead, and that it was best to leave it completely alone.

Ben Resnick worried they might accidentally trigger the Enigma Cube to unleash some horror upon the world. He was a scientist who had dedicated his life to the pursuit of knowledge, but he was also absolutely terrified of this alien artifact.

After seeing the cube for themselves, Ryan and Regan couldn't blame him. The power throbbing away inside this unearthly object would scare any sane person.

CHAPTER 6.

Entering Other Dimensions

Mrs. Resnick drove the electric cart to the silver, octagonal building that housed both her and her husband's labs. Both kids were unusually quiet during the two-mile journey.

"We're on a bit of a tight schedule," said Mrs. Resnick as they arrived. "So why don't you two grab an early lunch while I finish packing for the trip."

"What kind of food are we bringing to Isis?" asked Ryan, trying to hide his concern but failing.

"Don't worry, Ryan, since it's only a weekend trip everyone is bringing their own food. I'll make sure you don't starve. I'm bringing enough peanut b.u.t.ter to last a week."

"What about pizza?" said Ryan.

"Sorry. Unless you can figure out how to keep it cold or cook it over an open fire, frozen pizza is out. I'm pretty sure you can survive two days without it. I guess we're going to find out," she said in amus.e.m.e.nt.

Ryan and Regan were almost complete opposites when it came to food. Regan ate very little but made healthy choices and actively sought out new and unusual dishes to try. Ryan consumed more fuel than a blast furnace but was probably the pickiest kid on the planet. Aside from junk food, he lived almost entirely on pepperoni pizza, peanut b.u.t.ter, and hotdogs. If it weren't for peanut b.u.t.ter, one of the world's most nutritious foods, his parents were convinced he would now be only three feet tall.

A small kitchenette had been built in the corner of Mr. Resnick's lab. While their mother packed, the kids entered the lab to find their father seated in front of his computer eating a submarine sandwich. He was short and what Regan termed cuddly-looking, with a few strands of white hair now at his temples where a uniform lawn of brown used to be. Unable to keep his hair from pointing in a dozen directions or his shirts tucked in and unwrinkled, he had finally given up. Now he kept his hair short and wore nothing but wrinkle-free polo shirts and black jeans.

"So what did you think of the Enigma Cube?" asked Mr. Resnick after greeting them.

"It's the coolest thing I've ever seen," replied Ryan.

"I'm glad you got to see it before we put a vault over it and locked it away forever."

Ryan raised his eyebrows. "When are you going to do that?"

"Hopefully on Monday. That's when the Managing Committee will take a vote. I think I've convinced a majority of members that it's too risky to study any further." He sighed. "At least I hope I have."

"What about Dr. Harris?" asked Regan.

"Even though he's the head of the project, he only gets one vote. That's not to say his opinion doesn't carry a lot of weight. The good news is that I think he's leaning toward my point of view. He told me he was going to visit the Enigma building one last time today and make his final decision."

Mr. Resnick held up his nearly finished sandwich. "Is Mom going to make you lunch?"

"No," said Regan. "She said she needed to finish packing for the trip. We're just gonna find something for ourselves."

She and her brother headed off toward the kitchenette, but they were blocked from their destination by five large whiteboards that had been pulled together like train cars. The boards were covered with equations, strange symbols of every type, and indescribably strange geometric shapes. And four words-"stadium in a barrel".

"Sorry about that," said Mr. Resnick, rolling two of the boards apart so they could get through.

Regan pointed to the upper left corner of the board nearest her. "Stadium in a barrel, Dad? What does that mean?"

Mr. Resnick laughed. "It's the result of a quick side calculation I did for fun. You know how Prometheus is far bigger than the hole it's in. Well I calculated that when we enter this city, it's the equivalent of stepping inside a barrel and finding a full-sized football stadium inside. A pretty neat trick."

"Yeah, but we've known about that forever," said Ryan.

"True. And I've always been pretty sure the key to pulling this off involves other dimensions. Well, I'm finally getting around to trying to understand this better mathematically."

"Wait a minute, Dad," said Ryan excitedly. "Back up for a second. Are you saying this city exists in another dimension?"

"Well, yes and no."

"What does that mean?" said Ryan. He ran a hand through his hair. "And for that matter, what does another dimension even mean? You hear about traveling to other dimensions in science fiction all the time. But where exactly is that?"

Mr. Resnick looked at his watch. "Well, I suppose we have enough time before we need to head out. If you want, I'll explain it to you. What do you say?"

"Are you kidding?" said Ryan. "I would love to hear this."

Regan nodded in agreement.

"Okay," said their father. "Why don't you get something to eat while I erase a few of these white boards."

"We'll be right back," said Ryan eagerly.

Once inside the kitchenette, Regan removed a bottle of water and a small container of low-fat yogurt from the refrigerator. She opened the yogurt, thrust a white plastic spoon inside, mixed in the strawberries on the bottom, and walked back to her father. Ryan eyed a frozen pepperoni pizza hungrily but knew he didn't have the time to cook it. Instead he grabbed a bottle of water, an entire jar of peanut b.u.t.ter, and a plastic spoon before rushing to join his sister.

"Ready?" asked their father.

"Ready," said Ryan for both of them, plunging his spoon into the jar and removing a brown, heaping mound of super-chunky peanut b.u.t.ter.

Regan shriveled up her nose as if a skunk were in the room. Ryan had eaten his favorite food straight out of the jar like this for years, but she wasn't usually nearby when he did. What he was eating may have tasted great, but Regan thought it looked like something that should be coming out of his body rather than going in. "Ryan, why can't you make a sandwich like everyone else?" she complained. "That is sooo disgusting."

"Well I think yogurt is disgusting," he replied, biting off the top portion of the brown lump loaded with countless bits of chopped up peanuts.

"Do you want to hear this or don't you?" said Mr. Resnick pointedly. He waited for both kids to give him their full attention and then began. "Okay, here we go. But I warn you. You'll be pulling your hair out before I'm through and your brain will hurt. Don't expect to understand everything I'm about to tell you. Believe me, I don't fully understand everything I'm about to tell you." He paused. "So what is a dimension in the first place?" he asked. "How would you even define the word?"

Both kids thought about this for a while. Finally Regan shrugged. "I don't know. Something you can measure?" she said uncertainly.

"Okay," said Mr. Resnick. "Something you can measure. That's a reasonable definition, and as good a place to start as anywhere. So a line represents one dimension. Because you can only measure one thing about it: its length. That's all. It doesn't have any width or height. So then what figure would represent two dimensions?"

"A square," said Ryan.

"Yes. Any flat shape would do, but a square works well. You can measure its length and width. But it still doesn't have any height. So what figure would have three dimensions?"

Regan swallowed a spoonful of yogurt that the strawberries had turned pink. "A cube," she replied. "You can measure three things. Its length, its width and its height."

"Good," said her father. "So these are the three dimensions we can perceive in our universe. And while you can think of a dimension as something you can measure, you can also think of dimensions as directions you can travel in. So let's imagine for a moment that Brewster, Pennsylvania is the entire world."

Ryan and Regan both groaned at the same time. "Are you trying to give us nightmares, Dad?" said Ryan with a grin.

Mr. Resnick laughed. "How about San Diego, California?"

"Now you're talking," said Regan.

"Okay," said their father. "Suppose you were a conductor on a train going due north through San Diego. How many different directions could you go in?"

Regan tilted her head in thought. "Only one," she said, wondering if this was a trick question. "You'd have to stay on the train track. So you could only go north."

"Right. You can think of the train track as a line. A one-dimensional figure. And your options for travel in a one-dimensional world are extremely limited." He paused. "Now let's suppose you're driving an off-road vehicle in the center of San Diego. What directions could you travel in?"

"Any direction you wanted to," said Ryan. "North, south, east or west. Or anything in between."

"That's right. So the flat city of San Diego is like a two-dimensional figure. And you have lots of options for traveling in this two-dimensional world. Just adding a single dimension gives you a lot more freedom to move, doesn't it?" He paused once again to give the kids time to digest this idea. "Now suppose you're piloting a helicopter in the center of the city. What directions could you travel in now?"

"Well, you could travel north, south, east and west," said Regan. "And up and down. And anywhere in between."

"You've got it," said Mr. Resnick. "So obviously, San Diego and the airs.p.a.ce above it represent a 3D figure. And once again, you have far more directions you can travel in."

Mr. Resnick paused. "Okay," he said. "So far this has been fairly simple. But it gets impossibly hard very quickly. Don't worry if you don't understand the rest of this. No one really does. Not completely. But I'm hoping you understand enough of it to at least get a sense of the possibilities." He raised his eyebrows. "So what is the fourth dimension? And while 'time' can be considered a dimension, that's not what I mean. I mean the fourth dimension of s.p.a.ce."

Both kids just stared at him blankly. Ryan even lowered his second mountainous spoonful of peanut b.u.t.ter to his side, and away from his mouth, for this first time.

"Well," said their father. "Maybe we should review. To go from the first-dimension to the second, you have to move in a side to side direction. And to go from the second to the third, you have to move in an up and down direction. So what direction would you have to move in to get to the fourth dimension?"

They thought about this for about thirty seconds before giving up in total frustration.

"I think you've lost your mind, Dad," said Ryan.