The Eleventh Dimension or, a Series of Events that were NOT MY FAULT

3

As you have probably guessed, I take the bait. Hook, line, sinker, fisherman and the bloke walking his dog nearby. Yummy, yummy. To cut a long story short, I organise the time off with my employer, and two weeks later I find myself in front of a shabby office building in a cheap part of the city with a To Let sign outside and no plates on the door.

'Tris! So glad to see you again!'

He's looking slightly less nutty than I remember. He's wearing dirty blue overalls, he's had a haircut, and he's holding a pair of pliers or something. He doesn't actually look any cleaner than usual, but he at least he looks like he's supposed to be dirty, so the effect is more mechanic than mentalist. I say hello, and in I go.

The place is a big open plan office, no furniture to speak of, most of the strip-lights off, and the windows all taped up. It looks huge and dark and empty. I imagine it was pretty tatty even when it was being used, but it's horrible now. There are dark stains all over the blue floor, and rubbish just lying around, mostly food and drink containers. Over in one corner I can see a tent, of all things. I wonder if that's where he's sleeping. So many tiles are missing that the ceiling is kind of only half there, so you can see all the overhead wiring. He's ripped a lot of the carpet tiles up as well, leaving the bare metal floor shining through, like a dirty mirage.

He seems to be alone. Which must be why it's in this state.

'I like what you've done with this place. Real Ideal Home Exhibition material.'

'I take you to the most exciting experiment in the history of humanity, and you complain about the décor? Fine, fine, we can clean up later. First, we celebrate!'

And with a kind of twitchy flourish, he produces a bottle of bubbly, and cracks it open. Then, he takes a swig of it, and passes it to me.

'You're still a classy date, Mal. Can I sit down here?'

Not far from us is a desk with a computer on it, and a couple of cheapo plastic chairs. On and around the desk and chairs are crazy sculptures or something, made of wires twisted into kind of flower shapes. Well, more like cauliflowers. The wire runs in a straight line, then starts winding around itself before branching into all sorts of loops and twists, sketching a half ball more made of air than metal. Then the wire comes back out more or less where it starts, and finishes, leaving two pointy bits of metal next to each other. That must have been what he was doing with the pliers. They are in various sizes, from tennis ball to basket ball.

'Sure, sure. Let me get these out of the way.'

He moves a couple off the nearest chair, and puts them down very carefully. Same with the other one. I sit down, checking to make sure there are no food horrors awaiting me.

'So, is this it? You and me?'

'For the moment, yes. I need to do a lot of preparation. It's possible that it'll only be us doing the actual work, although our sponsors are interested and might send someone down. Oh, you need to sign, um, this.'

And he pulls a piece of paper and pen from the desk and passes it to me. I give it a scan; it's all non-disclosure. I'm fine with that, so I signs my soul away and pass it back.

'Thanks. I'll need your bank details so I can pay you. The remuneration is sufficient?'

'You mean...', and I chant the bloody number like a Hare Krishna, I've been thinking about it so much.

'Yes.'

'Yeah, it'll do,' trying to sound cool.

I think he smirks, but I don't care; there are little dancing angels singing songs of numerical happiness in my brain and I can't hear much else.

'So what do you actually want me to do?', I say, after a couple more swigs of champagne between us. The angels have calmed down a bit, but every so often one waltzes across the floor, and I kind of shiver.

He shrugs, and passes me the bottle.

'Just be around. Answer the door. Anyone we don't want turns up, bounce them back. We're relying on secrecy rather than force, but you're a kind of last line of defence. I don't think there'll be any problems, though. Oh, for the purposes of the idle inquiry, we're fitting new computer kit into this office, you and me. So wear overalls while you're here, or old clothes, or something. If your mates ask, and you don't think they'll believe that, make up any story you like. But keep the real details totally, totally secret. And while you're here? There's some stuff you can help with, if you fancy. Oh, and I'll need you to help me get some heavy kit in. OK?'

I nod. It all sounds pretty easy.

'So what are these metal things?'

'The first, and I think the most important component of the experiment. Hard work, too. I was hoping you could have a go, to be honest; see if you are any better with your hands than me.'

He wiggles the mouse on the computer, and a picture of one pops into life as the screen saver turns off. Looking at it, and a couple near me, he's not done that good a job, to be quite honest.

'How are you making them?'

He sighs.

'I'm taking short lengths of metal and soldering them together. That actually improves the field effect, according to the calculations, but it's impossible to get the bits in the middle right. I've tried bodging it in, and building it in sections, but it's still really hard. And all the ones I've built are either unfocused or just duds. Got any good ideas?'

'Yeah,' I say, pleased with myself. 'It's a single length of line, right? Well, we could use one of those 3d printer things and build casing sections which we could thread the wire into, and then it would be better made and survive a bit more when we put it together; then we could, I dunno, use acid to dissolve away the plastic or something. What do you think?'

He looks at me.

'How do you know about them?'

'Oh, one of the things we sell are print outs for stuff that is not quite welcomed by the moral majority. You know, bongs, sex toys, stuff like that. And we sell printers. And lots of different inks. You can get all sorts of different types in them these days, and the resolution is astonishing. It's much cheaper to just buy a dildo, but I guess people don't want to have that on their credit cards, or have it delivered by some smirking kid; or heaven forbid, actually ask for one in a shop. So they buy the printer from us, and download the files from somewhere. I've got a printer at home, freebee, I muck about with it sometimes. You know, make whatever silly craze is on the net this week. I'll bring it with me next time, if you like.'

He looks at me, and laughs.

'Tristram, employing you was the smartest thing I ever did!'

Looney. It wasn't exactly brain surgery.