How To Destroy The Universe

The plan

Kendara's plan was simple: break into the CERN, make sure nobody catches us, and get into the room where the black holes were being tested. According to bipolar Margaret, that's where Stanley Doyle was supposed to be working now. Which meant, I could sneak in, take a photo, and then leave back to America.

Because of its circular shape, CERN – or the Large Hadron Collider – had posts at every kilometre or so. Stanley Doyle, given his research interests, was most probably in the main building – CERN Building 867, which was located close to the Geneva airport.

The only question was how to pass the guards along the way. So it was a good thing that I brought my press I.D. with me.

'Shall I get a cab?' I asked Kendara.

'Don't bother. Hug me tight.'

'What?'

'I said, hold me tight. From the back. What is it with humans that I always need to repeat myself or state the obvious.'

'I am not doing that,' I said and exchanged glances with the waitress. We were still at the restaurant.

'What's wrong with that?'

'I don't know. Just sort of... gay.'

Kendara laughed. 'Right. I forgot. Humans are still at the stage that they think gender and sex matter. Don't worry, that's temporary. Now, are we going to kill the bastard or not?' asked Kendara.

'You do know that I am doing this for the photos only, right?'

'Whatever,' said Kendara and raised his fist to the sky like a Superman. But without a cape.

I started laughing.

'What's funny?'

'Nothing,' I said, cracking up, feeling tears come out of my eyes. That Italian wine really lifted my mood up. 'It's just that you look so serious, like you're trying really hard. Relax, man.'

Kendara looked at me intensely.

Then he lifted off the ground and slowly started to ascend. I looked up at him and also felt myself slowly being dragged by an invisible force off the ground.

'Hey! What's happening!'

'See you soon,' said Kendara, and flew away in the distance.

Suddenly, I was jerked in the air and flew higher and higher. The waitress was now just a tiny figure below, staring at me with awe, her head high up. Buildings were becoming smaller, the air colder, and soon I was higher than the Geneva fountain. I was increasing speed and soon found myself gliding through the air, watching the city unfold below me, like a giant organism. The roads were blood vessels, and the people in cars where cells, all moving around, as if orchestrated by an unseen director.

***

'Bonjour. This is a restricted area. Personnel and staff members only. Do you have an appointment?' asked the guard at the entrance to CERN Building 867 once we've arrived. He was an older man with a slight beard and suntan. He was wearing a blue uniform and a black cap.

I scratched the bump on my head from hitting a tree upon descend and exchanged glances with Kendara.

'I am a reporter. From the New Observer New York. I am making a piece about Stanley Doyle. My sources told me that he's supposed to be here...'

I handed the guard my I.D. The man looked at it closely, then back at me, then back at the I.D. Then he started writing something down in a big legal pad.

'What sources?'

'Trusted ones, sir.'

The guard looked at me suspiciously. 'And who is that?' he said, pointing to Kendara.

He was standing upright and smiling mockingly. His face radiated confidence and sarcasm.

'Oh, that's my colleague. He'll be recording the interview.'

'New Observer New York, huh? Too many 'new',' said the guard, chuckling, looking away.

'I know, right?' I said. 'So will you let us in?'

'You have one hour,' said the guard, handing me my reporter badge back, jotting down something in his legal pad. 'Mr. Doyle is supposed to be in the central control room. My colleague will show you to it.'

Kendara and I entered the building through electric gates and greeted a young woman, probably my age, dressed in a suit.

'Hello, you must be Jack. We've talked on the phone. Oh, it's a pleasure to meet you.'

I read her badge. It said Margaret Green. This was a shock because we only spoke on the phone and I could swear, I thought she was older.

'Hey Margaret. How are you feeling?'

'Oh, quite fine, thanks. Yesterday was a bit hazy but that's because I missed my pill. But today I am alrighty!' she said, excitedly, almost jumping. 'So, let's proceed.'

We started walking down the long corridor. 'So what are you going to ask him?'

Now she was jumping.

'Oh, it's more a formality, you know. We just need to get the photos done.'

'Oh yeah, right. The photos. You told me about them on the phone. Of course! Yay!'

'Yeah.'

We walked the rest of the way in silence. The only sound was the echo of Margaret's heels from her skipping across the corridor.

Once we've reached the needed door, Margaret stopped, caught her breath, and looked at us both. 'Now, I am not going inside, Stanley doesn't like to be disturbed, you see. You have exactly forty minutes. Use it wisely,' she chuckled.

The door said CENTRAL CONTROL ROOM and had a password lock.

'We'll do our best,' I said politely, desperately wanting to escape Margaret's company before her mood suddenly shifts again.

She entered a code on the lock, a robotic voice said Open and the door clicked. As I pulled on the door knob, I saw a large room with black monitors hanging on the walls. The lights were dim and it seemed that the whole room was illuminated by the screens showing diagrams, numbers, and representing mysterious flow charts. There was almost no wall without some kind of visual computing device. It reeked of sweat. I noticed that all the windows were closed.

So this is what the Large Hadron Collider looks like.

I suddenly remembered that as a kid, I always dreamed of visiting the Collider. And now, as I was here, it proved to be not such a big deal. That's the thing about growing up, probably. Things that used to fascinate you lose their charm. Or that's the thing with growing old.

Either way, in the middle of the room was a long black table. It took up not less than a third of the room. It was filled with papers, notebooks, empty coffee mugs, and two laptops. The far right side of the table was occupied by someone. I squinted and saw a bearded man in a white coat. It was Stanley Doyle. He looked a few years older, for sure, than the last time I saw him in New York.

'It's nice to see you again, sir,' I said, noticing a rectangular glass box attached to the opposite side of the room. Through the glass and the painted words FIRE EMERGENCY, I could see a red-white hatchet with a wooden handle.

Stanley looked up from his papers. He had a pleasant smile of a grandpa who comes to visit you on Thanksgiving. 'Oh, Jack. Long time no see. Come on in. Just give me a second,' he said in a high pitch, collecting papers across the desk, and stacking them in one neat pile.

'Take all the time you need,' said Kendara ominously, putting arms on his hips. 'We're in no hurry.'

Stanley Doyle looked up and blinked twice.