ScienceDirect - Technol Rep Tohoku Univ ... - Garryck Osborne

NICK COOK 263
The Effect had snaked the molybdenum rod into an S shape as if it
were a soft metal—lead, tin or copper. There were other successes to
report, too. A length of high-carbon steel had shredded at one end and
transmuted into lead the other. A piece of PVC plastic had literally
disappeared into thin air before the eyes of the evaluators. Bits of wood
had become embedded in the middle of pieces of aluminum.
And, of course, things had taken off—all over the laboratory, items
had been levitated; some deliberately, others in parts of the lab that were
nothing to do with the experiment. The lab at one point had also become
self-running, drawing its electricity from God only knew where—since
the power was down at the time.
Keep everything exactly as it is, Alexander told him. We're on our
way up.
When the INSCOM team got off the plane in Vancouver, everyone
was gibbering with excitement about the looming set of tests—everyone,
that is, except for the more senior of the two Los Alamos scientists, a
dour man who'd been given the unaffectionate nickname "Big Bad Bob"
by the other team members.
Bob remained convinced that somehow it was all just a bunch of
jiggery-pokery.
Someone, he'd told Alexander, was being had here.
A shimmy through the airframe as the A320 thumped down on the
tarmac at Vancouver and here I was, same place as the INSCOM group,
different time.
Like them, I was thinking of the encounter to come; and for a reason I
couldn't entirely put my finger on, I felt anxious.
I set out from the hotel for Hutchison's apartment 12 hours later.
It was a crisp morning, warm air from the Pacific mixing with the cold
air of a blue sky to form a thick layer of cloud in the waterways of the
harbor below. I followed Hutchison's directions, turning left on a wide
run-down street, eventually spotting what I was looking for: a brown
apartment building with an antenna farm on one of the balconies.
I could see Hutchison in silhouette at one of the windows, scanning the
street for my arrival.
He met me at the entrance and we shook hands. He was dressed in
jeans and a denim jacket. A strand of thick black hair fell over one lens of
his glasses. The other had a crack running through it. He was tall and
powerfully built, but his voice was softer than I remembered it on the
phone. Through the handshake I could sense he was as restless as I was.
We exchanged a few pleasantries, then I followed him inside. A minute