Dark Matter (16 page)

“And this box does what exactly?”

“As far as I can tell, it's a gateway to the multiverse.”

He looks at me like I'm crazy. “How is that possible?”

“I just need you to listen. The night after I escaped from this place, I went to a hospital. They ran a tox screen that returned traces of a mysterious psychoactive compound. When I saw you at Daniela's art reception, you asked me if the ‘compound' had worked out. What exactly were you working on for me?”

“You asked me to build a drug that would temporarily alter the functioning of brain chemistry in three Brodmann areas of the prefrontal cortex. It took me four years. At least you paid me well.”

“Alter how?”

“Put them to sleep for a little while. I had no idea what the application was.”

“You understand the concept behind Schrödinger's cat?”

“Sure.”

“And how observation determines reality?”

“Yes.”

“This other version of me was trying to put a human being into superposition. Theoretically impossible, considering our consciousness and force of observation would never allow it. But if there was a mechanism in the brain that was responsible for the observer effect…”

“You wanted to turn it off.”

“Exactly.”

“So my drug stops us from decohering?”

“I think so.”

“But it doesn't stop others from decohering us. It doesn't stop their observer effect from determining our reality.”

“That's where the box comes in.”

“Holy shit. So you figured out a way to turn a human being into a living and dead cat? That's…terrifying.”

The cell door unlocks and opens.

We both look up, see Leighton standing in the threshold, flanked by his guards—two middle-aged men with too-tight polo shirts tucked into their jeans and slightly past-prime physiques.

They strike me as men for whom violence is just work.

Leighton says, “Ryan, would you come with us, please?”

Ryan hesitates.

“Drag him out of there.”

“I'm coming.”

Ryan rises and limps to the door.

The guards each take an arm and haul him away, but Leighton stays behind.

He looks at me.

“This is not who I am, Jason. I hate this. I hate that you're forcing me to be this monster. What's about to happen? It's not my choice. It's yours.”

I lunge off the bed and charge Leighton, but he slams the door in my face.

They kill the lights to my cell.

All I can see is the glowing green dot from the surveillance camera that watches me over the door.

I sit in the corner in the dark, thinking how I've been on a collision course with this moment since I first heard those footsteps rushing up behind me in my neighborhood, in my world, five impossible days ago.

Since I saw a geisha mask and a gun, and fear and confusion became the only stars in my sky.

In this moment, there is no logic.

No problem-solving.

No scientific method.

I am simply devastated, broken, terrified, and on the brink of just wanting it all to end.

I watched as the love of my life was murdered right in front of me.

My old friend is likely being tortured as I sit here.

And these people will undoubtedly make me suffer before my end comes.

I am so afraid.

I miss Charlie.

I miss Daniela.

I miss my run-down brownstone that I never had the money to properly remodel.

I miss our rusty Suburban.

I miss my office on campus.

My students.

I miss the life that's mine.

And there in the darkness, like the filaments of a lightbulb warming to life, the truth finds me.

I hear the voice of my abductor, somehow familiar, asking questions about my life.

My job.

My wife.

If I ever called her “Dani.”

He knew who Ryan Holder was.

Jesus.

He took me to an abandoned power plant.

Drugged me.

Asked me questions about my life.

Took my phone, my clothes.

Holy fuck.

It's staring me in the face now.

My heart shuddering with rage.

He did these things so he could step into my shoes.

So he could have the life that's mine.

The woman I love.

My son.

My job.

My house.

Because that man was me.

This other Jason, the one who built the box—
he did this to me
.

As the green light of the surveillance camera goes dark, I realize that on some level, I've known since I first laid eyes on the box.

Just haven't been willing to look it in the eye.

And why would I?

It's one thing to be lost in a world that's not your own.

Another thing entirely to know you've been replaced in yours.

That a better version of you has stepped into your life.

He's smarter than I am, no question.

Is he also a better father to Charlie?

A better husband to Daniela?

A better lover?

He did this to me.

No.

It's way more fucked up than that.

I
did this to me.

When I hear the locks in the door retract, I instinctively scoot back against the wall.

This is it.

They've come for me.

The door opens slowly, revealing a single person standing in the threshold, profiled against the light beyond.

They step inside, close the door after them.

I can't see a thing.

But I can smell her—trace of perfume, body wash.

“Amanda?”

She whispers, “Keep your voice down.”

“Where's Ryan?”

“He's gone.”

“What do you mean, ‘gone'?”

She sounds on the verge of tears, of breaking down. “They killed him. I'm so sorry, Jason. I thought they were just going to scare him, but…”

“He's dead?”

“They're coming for you any minute now.”

“Why are you—?”

“Because I didn't sign up for this shit. What they did to Daniela. To Holder. What they're about to do to you. They crossed lines that shouldn't be crossed. Not for science. Not for anything.”

“Can you get me out of this lab?”

“No, and it wouldn't do you any good with your face all over the news.”

“What are you talking about? Why am I on the news?”

“The police are looking for you. They think you killed Daniela.”

“You people framed me?”

“I am so sorry. Look, I can't get you out of this lab, but I can get you into the hangar.”

“Do you know how the box works?” I ask.

I feel her stare, even though I can't see it.

“No idea. But it's your one way out.”

“From everything I've heard, stepping inside that thing is like jumping out of an airplane and not knowing if your chute is going to open.”

“If the plane's going down anyway, does it really matter?”

“What about the camera?”

“The one in here? I turned it off.”

I hear Amanda move toward the door.

A vertical line of light appears and widens.

When the cell door is open all the way, I see that she's shouldering a backpack. Stepping out into the corridor, she adjusts her red pencil skirt and looks back at me.

“You coming?”

I use the bed frame to drag myself onto my feet.

Must have been hours in the dark, because the light in the corridor is almost too much to bear. My eyes burn against the sudden brilliance.

For the moment, we have it all to ourselves.

Amanda is already moving away from me toward the vault doors at the far end.

She glances back, whispers, “Let's go!”

I quietly follow, the panels of fluorescent lighting streaming past overhead.

Aside from the echoes of our footfalls, the corridor is soundless.

By the time I reach the touchscreen, Amanda is holding her keycard under the scanner.

“Won't there be someone in mission control?” I ask. “I thought there was always someone monitoring—”

“I'm on duty tonight. I got you covered.”

“They'll know you helped me.”

“By the time they realize, I'll be out of here.”

The computerized female voice says,
Name, please.

“Amanda Lucas.”

Passcode.

“Two-two-three-seven.”

Access denied.

“Oh shit.”

“What's happening?” I ask.

“Someone must have seen us on the corridor cams and frozen my clearance. Leighton will know in a matter of seconds.”

“Give it another shot.”

She scans her card again.

Name, please.

“Amanda Lucas.”

Passcode.

She speaks slowly this time, overenunciating her words: “Two-two-three-seven.”

Access denied.

“Goddammit.”

A door at the opposite end of the corridor opens.

When Leighton's men step out, Amanda's face pales with fear, and a sharp, metallic taste coats the roof of my mouth.

I ask, “Do the employees create their own passcodes or are they assigned?”

“We create them.”

“Give me your card.”

“Why?”

“Because maybe no one thought to freeze my clearance.”

As she hands it over, Leighton emerges from the same door.

He shouts my name.

I look back down the corridor as Leighton and his men start toward us.

I scan the card.

Name, please.

“Jason Dessen.”

Passcode.

Of course. This guy is me.

Month and year of my birthday backwards.

“Three-seven-two-one.”

Voice recognition confirmed. Welcome, Dr. Dessen.

The buzzer rakes my nerves.

As the doors begin to inch apart, I watch helplessly as the men rush toward us—red-faced, arms pumping.

Four or five seconds away.

The moment there's enough space between the vault doors, Amanda squeezes through.

I follow her into the hangar, racing across the smooth concrete toward the box.

Mission control is empty, the lights beating down from high above, and it's dawning on me that there is no possible scenario where we make it out of this.

We're closing in on the box, Amanda yelling, “We just have to get inside!”

I glance back as the first man explodes through the wide-open vault doors, a gun or Taser in his right hand, a smear of what I assume is Ryan's blood across his face.

He clocks me, raises his weapon, but I round the corner of the box before he can fire.

Amanda is pushing open the door, and as an alarm blares through the hangar, she disappears inside.

I'm right on her heels, launching myself over the threshold, into the box.

She shoves me out of the way and digs her shoulder back into the door.

I hear voices and approaching footsteps.

Amanda is struggling, so I throw my weight into the door alongside her.

It must weigh a ton.

At last, it begins to move, swinging back.

Fingers appear across the door frame, but we've got inertia working in our favor.

The door thunders home, and a massive bolt fires into its housing.

It's quiet.

And pitch-black—the darkness so instantly pure and unbroken it creates the sensation of spinning.

I stagger toward the nearest wall and put my hands on the metal, just needing to tether myself to something solid as I try to wrap my mind around the idea that I'm actually inside this thing.

“Can they get through the door?” I ask.

“I'm not sure. It's supposed to stay locked for ten minutes. Kind of like a built-in safeguard.”

“Safeguard against what?”

“I don't know. People chasing you? Getting out of dangerous situations? You designed it. Seems to be working.”

I hear a rustling in the dark.

A battery-powered Coleman lantern glows to life, illuminating the interior of the box with a bluish light.

It's strange, frightening, but also undeniably exhilarating to finally be in here, enclosed by these thick, nearly indestructible walls.

The first thing I notice in the new light are four fingers at the foot of the door, severed at the second knuckle.

Amanda is kneeling over an open backpack, her arm thrust in to her shoulder, and considering how everything just exploded in her face, she seems remarkably composed, calmly triaging the situation.

She pulls out a small leather bag.

It's filled with syringes, needles, and tiny ampoules of a clear liquid that I'm guessing contains Ryan's compound.

I say, “So you're doing this with me?”

“As opposed to what? Walking back out there and explaining to Leighton how I betrayed him and everything we've been working toward?”

“I have no idea how the box works.”

“Well, that makes two of us, so I guess we can look forward to some fun times ahead.” She checks her watch. “I set a timer when the door locked. They come through in eight minutes, fifty-six seconds. If there were no time pressure, we could just drink one of these ampoules or do an intramuscular injection, but now we have to find a vein. Ever inject yourself?”

“No.”

“Pull up your sleeve.”

She ties a rubber band above my elbow, grabs my arm, and holds it in the light of the lantern.

“See this vein that's anterior to your elbow? That's your antecubital. That's the one you want to hit.”

“Shouldn't you be doing this?”

“You'll be fine.”

She hands me a packet containing an alcohol wipe.

I rip it open, wipe down a large swath of skin.

Next, she gives me a 3ml syringe, two needles, and a single ampoule.

“This is a filtered needle,” she says, touching one of them. “Use that one to draw up the liquid so you don't catch a glass shard. Then switch to the other needle to inject yourself. Got it?”