Displaced

Chapter 127

Blake Myers had problems—not that this was anything new. It was just that these problems felt so much more unsolvable than their predecessors. The entire concept was patently ludicrous. Build a machine to send them back? Sure, the ancient machine already existed to handle part of the job, but having half an impossible task pre-done didn't make the rest any less impossible. Mentally, he ran down the list of insurmountable challenges still on his plate.

First, he had to build some sort of ethereal energy pump that would shove them back up to Earth against the push of energy which, if he was correct about how things worked, would be flowing powerfully against them. To make that work, he would first have to figure out how to move this mystical energy. To do that, he had to find a way to even detect said energy, something he had absolutely no idea how to accomplish. The ancient texts implied that at least one such sensor had been made, while Baz seemed to have some sort of measurement doodad of his own. Maybe he could use that, somehow?

Even were he able to detect and measure the energy from Earth, the same energy theorized to be inside them all, that didn't mean there was a way to manipulate it. Everything they believed true about the physics of their two worlds and the way the worlds interacted suggested no artificial manipulation was needed to pull him and his fellow Earth people here. That meant there was nothing in the ruins for him to steal from.

Then, there was the need for power to fuel this wonder-pump. Here, at least, he thought he had a solution, but the only way to know for sure was to solve the rest of this unsolvable puzzle first.

And, hypothetically, what if he did it? What if he got it all built? In that case, how was he to know that it actually worked? He could send as many test objects out as he wanted, but it wasn't like he'd be able to get any data on success rates. The object would just disappear, most likely, and all he'd know for sure is that the first part functioned. If he sent a fruit through, for example, would it appear whole on the other side, or would come out the other side as little more than pulp? For that matter, would the other side even be Earth? How did you aim something like this?

The fact that the machine had connected twice to Earth was a good sign, but he could not assume that it would work that way once modified. After all, if there were two worlds, why not three, four, or countless more? Should he miraculously create a way off this world, how could he guarantee that they'd end up home instead of someplace where the air was chlorine gas? How could he say for sure that they wouldn't appear in another world with even lower energy density, whereupon they might just immediately explode? He just couldn't.

Blake felt like he was trying to grab a hologram in his hand. Try as he might, there just wasn't any substance there. And yet... he didn't have anything else to grab hold of, either. He'd let himself get talked into accepting an impossible task in part because any other options seemed even more impossible.

The chamber he sat in served as his main development workshop, but it wasn't really much of a workshop. Thanks to his super powers, which did all the work one usually needed a suite of heavy machinery for, it was really more of a large room with a bunch of raw materials and a workstation to help with the design stage. For the nth time, he brought the schematics of the Otharian bunker up onto the design workstation and studied them, hoping for some sort of breakthrough or inspiration.

As always, none came.

He needed to clear his head—a walk, or something, perhaps. Where to, he didn't quite know, nor care. Most everybody was busy at the moment, anyway.

Mizuko and Sofie were locked away translating the ancient documents into yet another language so that the old woman could finally understand the gravity of their situation. Meanwhile, the Japanese woman's servant was loose on the grounds, probably staring balefully at anybody who got too close. Sam had been playing with the cat the last time he checked, though he'd have to round her up for a lesson soon. Gabby was doing Gabby stuff—he wasn't quite sure what, other than she was out of the fortress at the moment. Arlette was standing in the elevator as the door opened in front of him, her face a wrathful storm as she glared at the floor.