Written in Time - By Jerry Ahern Page 0,76

decay for the passage of somewhere between ninety-four and ninety-eight years. Several more animals, another, different radioactive isotope—all were sent into the past. The recently euthanized body of a rabbit, secured within a stainless steel box, was transmitted into the past, the box reappearing in the next instant, the stainless-steel showing considerable surface corrosion. When the remains of the rabbit were subsequently examined, the veterinary pathologist declared that the animal appeared to have expired a century ago.

Finally, it was time for a human experiment.

One of Horizon’s scientific advisors had suggested recruiting the services of some terminally ill medical patient with mere days to live, offering a million-dollar financial estate to the person for the service to be rendered and equipping the volunteer with two items. One would be a hypodermic syringe with an especially lethal cocktail that would render him or her almost immediately unconscious, death ensuing within minutes. That was to be used at the volunteer’s election after he or she performed one vital function. A stainless-steel sphere would accompany the volunteer, the sphere fitted with a key to be turned right or left, toward the words yes or no, the key then to be withdrawn and discarded.

When the sphere reappeared, if the position the key had been turned to indicated the selection yes, the volunteer would have signified that there were no perceived ill effects from the time transfer. If the key was not turned, whether removed or not, sound evidence would exist that the timetransfer process had killed the volunteer. The no option was merely to give the terminally ill volunteer peace of mind—if he or she were dead, actuating the key would be impossible—or indicate that what was perceived as fatal injury had been suffered during the time transfer.

Jane had felt proud of both Alan and Clarence when they insisted, almost simultaneously, that such an experiment would be cruel in the extreme, regardless of how much money would inure to the terminally ill volunteer’s estate.

After much consideration and debate, it was determined that, indeed, it was time for a human experiment—and the subjects would be Clarence and Peggy. They would, of course, have with them a stainless steel sphere, to be left behind before they ventured off through their new time. Inside it were to be stored immediate observations, remarks concerning perceived aftereffects or the lack thereof and any other information that they might think useful. The sphere would also contain, of course, a radioactive isotope with a precisely established rate of decay. If the experiment was successful and time-travel were achieved, the sphere would appear in almost the same instant that Clarence and Peggy and all of their gear vanished into the past.

The idea of Peggy and young Clarence—Jane had become nearly as fond of him as had Peggy, but in a different way, of course—allowing themselves to be human guinea pigs at once frightened and repulsed Jane.

An idea, which had been hauntingly formless, suddenly took shape, became perfectly clear.

Jane would not share with Peggy or Clarence the nature of her epiphany but if Clarence was somehow right about Fate being inescapable, then this was why her body had been slowing, beginning to tell her that time was running out at last.

She smiled at the thought. Rather than time running out on her, if Alan would see her logic, be her enabler, she would run out on time.

The principal personnel who remained at the site all or most of the time had motor homes. Alan’s motor home was a palace on wheels.

The vehicle was as large as a cross-country bus, yet had sleeker, more modern lines. There were four of what Jane Rogers had learned were called “bump-outs” adding extra roominess to the vehicle’s interior. Considering that Alan was only on-site for important meetings and actual experimental trials—which averaged about ten days out of every thirty—Jane secretly felt that the motor home was egregiously elaborate and, despite its tasteful decor, in the poorest taste.

There were armed guards with sentry dogs surrounding the work site, standing watch over equipment and personnel, but nothing, presumably, would impede her from knocking on Alan’s front door.

Her watch showed the time to be a little after eleven in the evening, but there were lights on within his motor home. She hoped she was not disturbing him, but her thoughts had to be shared with Alan as quickly as possible.

The door opened. There was a portable phone to Alan’s ear, and he was talking into it. He smiled, gestured her into

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