The Empty Door Page 8

“Mr. Markman, just what in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”

  Markman paused at the top of the ramp and looked down to find Cassiopia staring back in anger. With a dazed look, he realized she had not ventured through the mirror-door at all. Quickly he collected himself and tried to appear unruffled. “Looking for you!”

  “You must be absolutely crazy. I was upstairs in the study.”

  “When I returned, you were gone.”

  “You were told to wait here. If it had not been for the robot, I wouldn’t have known where you were.”

  “I thought you took off after your father...through there,” he answered, cocking a thumb at the mirror as he came down the ramp.

  “Well, you came very close to remaining in there!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The SCIP transformer has a time limit. It can only be operated for a limited period. Some of the emitters in it get hot and can burn out. The robot was programmed to turn it off. If I hadn’t been here, he would have. Another fifteen minutes and I would have had to let him.”

  “But I was only gone for half an hour!”

  “You were gone for more than three hours, you...you...JERK!”

  Markman stared in disbelief at his watch. Only thirty minutes had passed. He looked at the big digital timer on the Drack computer station. It showed three hours and forty-five minutes had elapsed. He stared at Cassiopia blankly. She scowled, turned and tapped at the keyboard on the Drack console. Power to the transformer doorway slowly ebbed behind him. The chalky white surface gradually faded in to replace the mirror. The invasive hum that had filled the room quieted.

  Cassiopia turned back to her vexatious guest. Stacks of computer printouts surrounded her. She took a deep breath and tried to regain her composure. “Mr. Markman, that was a very foolish, impulsive thing to do.”

  Ignoring the reprimand completely, Markman stared blankly into the distance and began thinking out loud, as though she were not even there. “Damn, I was in a city where it was noon when it should have been night. A maniac tried to run me down twice, and nobody cared. My watch says I was there for only thirty minutes, but the clock here says almost four hours. What the hell is going on?”

  “Mr. Markman!”

  He looked up with a sudden sobriety. “What is this, some kind of brainwash experiment for the military or something? There’d better be some really good explanations about this. What just happened to me? It had to have been a dream. How the hell did you do that?”

  Cassiopia threw up her arms in frustration. She sighed and tried to sound sympathetic. “Would you please just sit down. I will try to explain --as much as I can, anyway.”

  Markman stood looking disheveled and uncertain. He came down the ramp, pulled a chair over near her, and sat. “You have my full attention, Ms. Cassell.”

  Folding her arms in front of her, she cast a scolding stare. “While you went dashing around madly rescuing me, without having the faintest idea of what you were doing, I used the time to review some of my father’s files. I’m very happy that you somehow managed to find your way back, apparently unharmed. From what I’ve read so far that in itself must have been quite a feat, especially for you! Now if you will kindly tell me what you saw and did inside the SCIP transformer, I will explain it as best I can.”

  Markman shook his head and raised one finger in protest but abruptly thought better of it. He looked at her with distrust, shook his head, and decided not to argue. He sat back and carefully recounted all that had happened beyond the mirror-door. Cassiopia was captivated. His depiction of events was even less believable to a scientific mind than it had been to him. As he finished telling his strange tale, she rose pensively from the desk and walked up to the transformer door. She touched it lightly as if to reassure herself that it was real. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it! He’s really done it!”

  “Done what exactly? --If you don’t mind my asking now?”

  She returned and sat near him. “It’s a long story and a bit difficult to describe in layman’s terms, Mr. Markman.”

  “Well, by all means, give it your best shot. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing.” He slumped back in his seat and folded his arms.

  She studied him somberly for a moment. Her tone of voice became almost wistful. “For many years my father has had this pet theory. We called it the ‘nothing is something’ theory. It was kind of a joke. My father has always insisted that there is no such thing as nothing. He thought that if you could, say, produce a perfect vacuum in a container, you would still have something in the container.”

  “Like what?”

  “The vacuum itself. To actually have nothing, you would need to remove the vacuum. He also believed that if a way could be found to do that, you would still have something in the container, but he often admitted he wasn’t sure what that would be. His best guess was that you would have a piece of another dimension. He’s got theoretical equations on string theory that no one else has even considered yet. He’s expressed his ideas mathematically, but it’s such an esoteric and lengthy group of formulas that some new symbols had to be defined. No one has paid much attention except me, and I’ve lain in bed at night for hours trying to grasp a single page of it.”

  The thought of the Professor’s daughter lying in bed at night caused Markman’s overloaded mind to slip off track. It seemed like such a pleasant thing.

  “Mr. Markman—are you still with me?”

  “Oh—yeah. Please continue.”

  “Upstairs in the other lab, there is a small Plexiglass cube with an emitter matrix attached to it. According to the records in the robot, it’s a miniature version of the SCIP transformer. It was my father’s first successful attempt to displace a vacuum. The files say he was running the experiment when a logic probe accidentally fell into the cube and disappeared completely. That was the last entry in that particular diary. After that, a whole new set of password-protected files were started. It will take me a while to get in. I’m certain he left me a back door.”

  “Backdoor?”

  “A hidden way into the computer files. Something only I would know.”

  “And then you’ll be able to explain what just happened to me?”

  “I can’t promise that yet. But, when I access his other records, I will be able to tell you much more.”

  “And how long will all this take?”

  “Not long. I’ll get in tonight. I’m at least certain of that.”

  Markman looked lost. He sat back and rubbed his face with one hand. “Are you alright, Mr. Markman?”

  “As well as can be expected. I was just wondering what to do with all of this.”

  “Well, were you able to keep your promise to allow me time to look into these matters without interference?”

  “Oh, that. Yeah. It was nothing. We probably couldn’t have gotten any help if we had wanted it. There’s so much going on right now we’re small potatoes. There was an incident this afternoon at the university, by the way. Someone fell or jumped from a third-floor balcony or something. Honestly, those college kids will never learn.”

  “Oh, that’s terrible. Who was it? Was he hurt badly?”

  “I’ve told you all I know. The school is looking into it.”

  Cassiopia leaned back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. Markman’s instincts told him she was about to ask for something.

  “I have a proposition for you, Mr. Markman. Will you keep an open mind?”

  “I’ll listen.”

  “Are you for hire by private individuals?”

  “Sometimes. If the cause is right. Are you trying to hire me, Ms. Cassell?”

  “Yes, Mr. Markman.”

  “You’re getting me for free right now.”

  “No, the university has your contract.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Well,” she paused, “for one thing you’d be getting paid quite a bit more. I can afford it.”

  “
If you get to know me better from all of this, you’ll find money doesn’t mean much to me, Ms. Cassell.”

  Surprised, Cassiopia again paused. “I want to conduct the search for my father my own way. I know him and his work better than anyone. You can help prevent the bureaucrats from interfering. They would almost certainly hurt my chances of finding him. You could report that progress is being made and that would be true. I wouldn’t ask for anything unethical. And I would have you to back me up. I certainly need someone like you. You’re the perfect choice actually, in several ways.”

  “And just what is it you plan to do?”

  “My father is somewhere in Dreamland, whatever that is. You’ve apparently been there and returned. He may be just wandering around doing research and not giving a damn about the outside world because his discovery is so—profound. The robot was ordered to energize the door every day at noon for as long as it could be safely left on. That was probably so my father could return. It’s simple, Mr. Markman. I want to visit Dreamland and try to find him if only to confirm he’s okay.”

  Cassiopia looked hesitantly into Markman’s blue eyes. Only a situation as absurd as this could have required her to depend on anyone this way, especially a member of the opposite sex. He was perfect for her needs, however; athletic, quick thinking, casually bold to the point of being foolish. She could not remember a time when she had needed someone to say yes to her this much, and he had turned out to be someone she decidedly disliked.

  Markman listened with one elbow on the Drack station and his chin firmly planted in the palm of his hand. He sat thoughtfully for a moment and then opened his mouth as if to begin some gallant dialogue on police ethics.

  “Okay,” he replied flippantly, and they stared at one another in veiled distrust.

  Chapter 9