The Planck Variable by Benjamin Ache

Author:Benjamin Ache [Ache, Benjamin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781095175897
Publisher: Benjamin Ache
Published: 2019-07-16T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 34

Director Blithe Woodhem strode through the entrance of Building 101 of the abandoned National Institute of Standards and Technology (NIST). The lobby was no more than an empty space, with a cold marble floor and bare walls where the Visitor Center to the Museum once stood. The only item left was the Hassler memorial plaque to the right. Woodhem stopped in front of it as he did ritually every time he entered the building.

Ferdinand Rudolph Hassler was the first superintendent of both the US Coast Survey and the Office of Weights and Measures, the original agency of NIST and several prior generations. “So much has changed since your time.” He traced his index finger across the raised letters. He looked down at his synchronized watch. The time was precisely 13:03:54 Standard Solar Time according to the Atomic Clock. “Yet we still live our lives by the standards you created.”

Woodhem continued on his way through what had been the Hall of Standards. Bleached rectangles adored the wall where once a row of windows on the opposite side had let in the sunlight. The windows had been sealed during the Financial Fallout days, after the drastic government reforms had shut down the institution. The historical artifacts—the Shortt Clock, Rabinow’s optical character reading machine, and all the historical weights and measures—had all been sold at auction a long time ago.

The director halted in front of an old elevator shaft at the far end of the hall. The control panel had been removed and a cautionary sign labeled “Out Of Order” stuck to the door. The elevator appeared innocuous, a forgotten piece of broken equipment tucked away in a neglected facility. Woodhem placed his hand in the center of the door. A screen flashed to life right in the middle of the panel. With a few swipes of his finger, he punched in a password and the door opened from an invisible drive shaft, revealing the fakeness of the façade.

Woodhem stepped into the elevator. No buttons or controls were visible, nor was it possible to identify where the faint illumination lighting up the walls was originating from. It was just a solid black unmarked box. The doors shut behind him.

“Good morning.” He spoke to some invisible person in some far-off location. As if that was enough of a command, the elevator started to move. The smooth action and lack of designations made it hard to distinguish if the unit was truly descending or it was just an illusion.

The doors popped open and Woodhem walked out.

“Good morning, sir,” greeted Brody Rand from behind the security desk. A chipper, rotund man, he was quite content with his sedentary career. “Hope the heat hasn’t made you too flushed today.”

“Nonsense. The reflective surface where my hair used to be does a good job bouncing off the sunshine.”

The director walked through the Analyst Pit of the Counter Intelligence for Technology and Energy Defense (CITED) on his way to his private office. Two hundred and six glass cubicles lined the floor.

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