The Physicist's Party (An Erik Midgard Case Files Short Story)

The Physicist's Party

An Erik Midgard Case Files tribute to

Professor Stephen Hawking

(1942 – 2018)

By Kit Downes

First English Language Rights © 30.04.2018

Cover image by RL Sather

Even though it existed as nothing more than energy, I could feel my heart pounding every second as we backstepped.

Normally, I was grateful that I could no longer see anything when I teleported, but there were times when I missed it. Tonight, travelling back nearly a thousand years to a location we only knew as co-ordinates, with no idea what we were going to find when we got there, was at the top of the list.

The rushing white light faded and I glimpsed swirling particles, most of them literally pieces of myself, as they turned from energy back into matter, as we materialised. I relaxed, for the first time since we'd left to present, to see we'd arrived in an empty room. I released my grip on the butt of my Unigun, which I'd been holding in my holster in case we materialised right in front of any locals and needed to stunshoot them. One of the few things we did know about this case was that we were in an era when we had to be very careful not to leave any traces.

We had arrived in the middle of a long dining room. The tray ceiling was decorated with a red and blue leaf pattern and fluted ancient Greek columns with scroll tops divided up the walls. Sculpted reliefs of battling warriors were set into the walls close to the ceiling between them and smooth square columns with portrait busts on them stood in front of the windows. A grandfather clock stood ticking against one wall and the wooden door at the far end of the room was closed.

"Clear," I said.

"And clear," said Mirabi, who was standing behind me. "Finally some good luck. Starting scan."

"AG," I said, keeping one eye on the door as Mirabi typed on her wristcom, getting it to search for and link to any nearby digital information networks – ideally, the hypernet or one of its ancestors – which could tell us where we were. Plunging blind into the past like this was completely against ChronOps procedure except in one set of circumstances; emergencies when we didn't have any other choice.

As I waited, I looked around properly, taking in the details I'd missed when checking if the room was empty. I frowned and clicked my teeth. It was empty, but it did not look like it was not going to stay that way for long. Bunches of white, blue and purple helium balloons were tied in the corners. Unopened champagne bottles and ice buckets stood on the table beside a large triangle of glasses waiting to be filled, along with several round trays of hors d'oeuvres, covered in a clear plastic wrap to keep them fresh. The room was prepared – or was being prepared – for some kind of event. I checked again that the door was closed and that my Helmcom was not detecting any nearby heartbeats apart from our own, but the food, drinks and decorations drew my attention back to them. My eyelids twitched, as if they wanted to blink, but weren't sure why. There was something about the scene that gave me a feeling close to déjà vu. But I had definitely never been here before.

"All right. We're in business," said Mirabi. "Cambridge, England, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Early 21st century. Good weather tonight, apparently... Oh, hax."

"What is it?" I said.

"We're on the Blacklist," said Mirabi. "Level-X."

"Shav." I quickly double-checked that the room was empty. "Any arrival signature?"