Chapter 3 - Time Stent

Chapter 3 - Time Stent



Two and One Half Years Earlier



In the cooler shade provided by the towering palm trees rimming the Four Corners World Resort, Spa, and Conference Center’s mammoth pool, General Thomas McMaster, Chairman of the Generals, relaxed in a chase-lounge chair. He yawned and stretched lazily on a hot July morning wearing a swimming suit and a regulation utility light blue-colored tee shirt.

The previous winter and spring months had been exceptionally busy and stressful with the new Administration taking huge amounts of his professional and personal time. His wife, Ellie, had finally insisted he take some of his accumulated personal time to unwind and to spend time with his family. She planned and arranged the trip to this popular southern tourist destination as a combined family reunion and vacation. This was the first extended time-off McMaster had taken since his youngest daughter had married three years earlier. Ellie, their three grown children and their spouses, and their three grandchildren were enjoying the day at one of the nearby resort theme parks while he relaxed peacefully by the pool.

McMaster felt nearly stress-free for the first time in months. He had slept-in late until almost 6 AM. He even managed to squeeze in a short two-kilometer morning jog with his always present security detachment.

McMaster’s staff was trying to accommodate his vacation by keeping his usual steady stream of calls to a minimum. McMaster had only been called by the President’s Office twice this morning.

Nearby, at a table covered with a huge umbrella his personal aide, Major Hu, in casual summer clothes and sun glasses, watched over a variety of electronic gear that always traveled with McMaster. There were always serious threat risks to Federal security and urgent situations could arise needing McMaster’s attention 24-hours a day, seven days a week. Those threats never took vacations. McMaster lived on a short-electronic leash.

McMaster contemplated reading something pleasurable for a change not related to work. He had already read the daily briefing documents prepared by various Federal agencies.

While reaching for his black duffle bag crammed with books, folders, and papers, his private cell phone both vibrated and rang loudly within the bag. McMaster fished it out and glanced at the caller ID on the display. “Good morning, Mr. Willis,” McMaster answered politely.

“Good morning General. I hear you’re finally taking a vacation,” the Senior legislator said warmly.

“It’s more of a working vacation, sir. It is impossible to truly get away.”

“Yes, I do understand. General, I’ll get right to the point, as I don’t want to take up too much of your personal family time. You remember our little briefing back last winter regarding your special project?”

“Of course,” McMaster answered, suddenly alert.

“Well, there may be a development that I thought you’d like to know about. Since our meeting, I’ve had someone on my staff reviewing doctorial dissertations published in the last few years at universities around the country that could prove to be pertinent. I figured that someone with a really terrific idea might be enrolled in one of our many fine engineering programs.

“Well, we didn’t find anything really pertinent until yesterday when most of the spring doctorial dissertations were published on-line. A bright young man graduated from our largest engineering aerospace program in May. I find his doctoral dissertation to be fascinating reading and I think you’ll enjoy reading it, too. Would you like me to transmit you a copy?” Willis asked.

“Yes, please. I’ll take an immediate look at it.”

“Good. You won’t be sorry General. Have a good vacation and remember to use sun-screen!” Willis laughed.

“Yes sir. I will. Thanks for the call. I’m sure we‘ll be talking again very soon.”

“I have no doubts. Bye for now,” Willis said, ending the call.

* * *

         Dr. Flynn Davidson nervously paced in a waiting rooms inside the main administration building at the southern peninsula’s largest coastal military base. Sitting nearby, his former advisor Dr. Kevin Bates, fidgeted with his fingers tapping an uneven cadence on his chair’s arm. Neither of them had a clue why they had been urgently summoned at the government’s request the previous day.

They had been flown here on a small military executive-sized jet early this morning for a planned midday meeting with someone yet named.

Dr. Bates looked at his watch again. They had been waiting for over an hour. He was becoming irritated. He hated to wait. He was about to standup when an opaque glass security door behind the reception desk opened. Dr. Bates immediately recognized Tom McMaster from news reports shaking hands and bidding a guest goodbye. Bates did a double-take when he recognized McMaster’s guest as the Defense Secretary. The Secretary smiled politely and nodded at them as he left the building with his security escort.

Seeing Bates and Davidson, McMaster walked over extending his hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting gentlemen. It’s been a busy morning and I’m officially down here on vacation. I’m Tom McMaster.”

Dr. Bates took McMaster’s hand first. “I’m Kevin Bates,” he said.

“Flynn Davidson,” Flynn added as he shook hands in turn.

“Thank you for coming on short notice. I have a lot to discuss with you,” he said motioning them through the glass doors and down a short hallway. They entered into a attractively appointed conference room with wood paneling. McMaster directed them to a very large round table where three thick folders waited.

“Please, have a seat. Can I offer you coffee or something else to drink?” McMaster asked.

Both requested coffee and McMaster asked someone on the staff to accommodate their request.

Once the door closed, McMaster started. “Gentlemen, I’ll get to the point. Your senior legislator, Mr. Willis forwarded me a copy of your doctoral dissertation Dr. Davidson. I’ve read it and I’ve had several on my staff read it, too. We’re impressed with your observations and your ingenuity. We’re most curious about your views on practical applications for your research.”

Flynn reacted in amazement. First, he was surprised that his home district’s senior legislator even knew about his dissertation, and then he was very shocked to learn that his senior legislator had thought enough of his research to forward a copy to the Chairman of the Generals. The look on Dr. Bates face showed he was equally stunned.

“Well, General, I’m flattered my research has been read by you and your staff. However, I’m not immediately aware of any practical applications. I suppose one primary application I might envision is that one can gain a better perspective and understanding of our past history and learn lessons from it by observing events from afar.”

“Yes, I read that in your dissertation. If I understand your concept, your radical idea is totally opposite of what others in your field are attempting to do. Instead of releasing negative energy by bombarding atoms with expensive particle accelerators and then artificially creating a time wormhole, your novel new idea is centered on the notion that negative energy naturally exists in balance with positive energy. And, negative energy might be controlled simply by manipulating the electrical properties of the space between atoms meaning there is no need to split an atom. If the surrounding space between atoms can be energized properly, then a time wormhole will naturally occur at a fraction of the effort and expense other techniques are attempting.

“One can then insert a small probe – a video camera, for example, into the wormhole. When the probe emerges through the far end of the wormhole, it will have essentially passed through a tunnel, through bended space to a different moment in time.”

“Well, yes, that is an extremely simplified summary,” Davidson replied.

McMaster passed out the sets of thick folders and opened his. Flynn’s dissertation was the first document. He turned to a dog-eared marked page with a hexed–shaped pattern in the half-page illustration. “This image caught my eye. Why did you settle on a hexagon pattern shape in your design?”

“I drew on nature for that. My parents raise honey bees on their farm and I grew up watching them. A hex is structurally very efficient and strong. I also know this shape can naturally focus energy inwards towards its center and that suits my design very nicely,” Flynn replied.

Dr. Bates had become becoming increasingly weary with the direction of the conversation. “General, I’m sorry to interrupt. I’ll be blunt. I’m really curious why the military is interested in Dr. Davidson’s dissertation. I’m sure you don’t urgently fly every doctoral candidate and their university advisors here on short notice just to chat about their dissertation. What are we missing here?” Dr Bates said.

McMaster smiled. He liked direct and to the point questions. “Actually, you might be surprised at the variety of what we read Dr. Bates. We read many things including new dissertations. We find very interesting ideas everywhere that may be worth exploring. Your visit is to help us gather facts about what Dr. Davidson’s dissertation could do for society.”

“That’s pretty vague, General. No disrespect, sir, but why does the military or our Federal Government for that matter, care about that? Level with us. What’s your real motivation for this?”

General McMaster pondered how to answer the question best without revealing too much confidential information too soon. “It is premature to even speculate. We have no specifics in mind yet. Let me ask you a practical question Dr. Davidson. Assuming you could control a time wormhole, how far back in time might one go?”

Bates realized his challenge had been deflected. He cross his arms and fumed in silent anger.

Flynn shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He had been surprised at the hostile overtones from his former advisor. “Well, that is unknown without further studies. My calculations indicate that there are scalable correlations and constraints between power and the size of a wormhole. Generally, the deeper the vortex wormhole tunnel that is formed, the further you go back in time. However, the deeper it is, the weaker it structurally becomes. Decreasing the diameter of the gravity tunnel helps to compensate to some degree; but, there are practical issues to contend with. If the diameter becomes too constricted while making it deeper or longer – think of a twisting tornado-like straw, it may become so tiny at the far end that the vortex is impossible to utilize. So, why bother?”

“Yes, I understand your analogy very well. Part of my military studies included mechanical engineering. To strengthen a structure of any significant size, braces and supports need to be employed. The practical scaling and construction of your hex structure becomes a key design factor, correct?”

“Exactly. In my dissertation, I proposed that ultimately space may be the only practical place to build a full-sized wormhole structure because of the power and system cooling required. One also has to remember this design requires a 3-D constructive framework element. Plus, creating too large an artificial gravity wormhole on earth could be dangerous for many technical and practical reasons.”

“Yes, I’d like to discuss your thoughts on those issues in-depth later. But, before we discuss putting your project in space, your dissertation suggested building a prototype hex-shaped test pad several meters wide. Why did you choose that size?” McMaster asked.

“It seemed reasonable to me for funding by a University grant to help me determine the scalable construction costs, power usage, and technical control components. But, I suppose the design is really scalable if you have enough money and resources,” Davidson answered with a grin.

Dr. Bates interjected, “I’m sure that the government has both the budget and money to scale-up Flynn’s design. Again, what benefit does Flynn’s device have for the military? You seem to be avoiding my question.”

McMaster smiled. “Not really Dr. Bates. As I said, we’re not really sure yet. It would be premature to speculate. As Dr. Davidson suggested, being able to actually watch historical events in real-time offers humanity an un-varnished glimpse of the past from which we can gain incredible objective insights, truth, and knowledge. It’s the ultimate rewind device. For example, we could review battle engagements that failed or gain a better understanding of what strategies worked and why. It could be an invaluable aid in helping us prepare for future engagements, for example.”

“It could also be a huge temptation to try and alter history by fixing past failures, like shortening wars by assassinating dictators?” Bates added sarcastically.

McMaster nodded in concurrence with Dr. Bates assessment and placed his hands flat on the table. “I’d be lying if that had not come up in conversations. Fortunately, I don’t set policy – our civilian leaders do that. I only enforce their policy and laws. You should know that I have stated for the record that I believe that attempting to alter the past would be a grave mistake. Time, as I interpreter it, is like a string of domino tiles standing in a row. Once in motion, a tipped domino influences and trips the next adjacent domino and so forth. Disrupt the domino string and one may influence events differently from that moment forward. Both the good and the bad could be changed causing a completely undesired result of actions. Not everyone may like the consequences or changes that would be artificially introduced. Once time is changed, you can’t go back.”

Dr. Davidson interjected brightly, “Or, one might conceivably create a utopia.”

“Yes,” McMaster nodded. “Some have argued that point, too. There are two problems with that concept, as I see it. The first problem is in how one defines utopia. My definition will vary from yours – as the saying goes: one man’s treasure is another man’s junk. The second problem is calculating when and where one could introduce a meaningful change. Knowing exactly when a change should be inserted in the past and then predicting with a high degree of certainty what will happen next is impossible. I wouldn’t want that responsibility.

“And then, there is the ‘infant-syndrome’ school of thought. A strong argument has been proposed that mankind has not yet reached the correct maturity for a utopia to be created. After all, mankind’s presence on this planet is a small, few thousand-year blip on a global timeline that stretches for millions of years. The infant-syndrome scenario is that we are still infants just learning to crawl on our path to a fuller development. The thinking is that we still have much to learn and experience before we become mature and cognizant enough to understand how a utopia might be defined. Maybe the fact that we’re having this time-travel conversation right-here, right-now will become a pivotal historical first-step in creating a future utopia. I personally prefer to believe we chart our own future and we can make it whatever we want.”

Dr. Bates contemplated McMaster’s words and replied in a less gruff voice. “I didn’t know that Generals could be so philosophical,” he said surprised, his stance softening towards McMaster.

“Then you have not seriously studied military leaders, Dr. Bates. But, we digress from our subject at hand.” McMaster said.

“Back to your design Dr. Davidson. You indicated that you believe the design can be scaled. Could one create an opening large enough for a satellite with multiple camera’s to be inserted?” McMaster asked.

Flynn shifted in his seat to lean forward. “Absolutely! A small satellite is perhaps 2 or 3 meters round and a wormhole opening would only need to be slightly larger. That could still fit inside my original prototype design parameters.”

McMaster nodded encouragingly. “Excellent! We had hoped you’d confirm that. One of the guys on my staff proposed what he called a ‘yo-yo’ insertion.”

Dr. Bates leaned back in his chair looking up at the ceiling visualizing a child’s finger controlling a yoyo toy moving up and down on a string. “I like that concept. Like a toy yo-yo the probe goes down the wormhole, reaches a maximum depth, dwells for a few moments, snaps a bunch of photos, and then returns up the wormhole to its original position.”

“That’s slightly different than what I had envisioned; but, I don’t see why that couldn’t work. My original concept was a never-to-return one-way probe that would transmit information via a radio back through the wormhole,” Flynn replied.

“We liked your concept. However, my technical staff believes the electromagnetic fields of the wormhole may produce too much interference and distortion for a high-quality transmission signal,” McMaster noted.

Flynn Davidson nodded sheepishly. “I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not an expert on wireless communications. But, I couldn’t think of a practical alternative!”

McMaster laughed. “Perhaps we can help each other to make your concept a reality. You’d be surprised at how many experts we have on a variety of technical issues that can help make your time project a success and I know you will bring us the vision and imagination we are seeking.”

Dr. Bates rolled his eyes. “Plus, you have deep pockets.”

“Yes, there is that, too,” McMaster replied.