The Infamous Man from New Mexico

Welcome to New Mexico

  He walked through the front doors of the building, sounding the small bells that once notified the owners of a customer entering. On the outside of the building, it appeared to be a perfectly normal laundromat in a crowded city, standing at about two stories tall, and sharing the street with other businesses. However, the laundromat ceased to operate over one hundred years ago. For  those with simply a quarter and a sharp eye for secrets, there was quite a surprise. If you happen to put the quarter into the correct dryer, the wall behind the machine would make a slight click noise, and you could pull it forward, revealing a staircase leading to one of the best-kept secrets of the 22nd century. The New Mexico heat had been doing its best to ignite him, and the dark coat he was forced to wear only worsened his situation. He turned his head to look behind him for one final time, paranoid he was being followed. He hadn't been followed yet, but today would not be a great starting point. He picked up the newspaper that had been set down flat on the entryway counter.

August 4th, 1945.

It was probably the last surviving piece of newspaper in existence, signifying the last day before America had surrendered in the war. The title seemed to be jumping off the page, as if the news was still fresh.
 "Germany Defeats Russia, Annexes Japan!" the newspaper exclaimed. It was only one day later that the bombs were dropped on Oak Ridge, New York, San Jose, Los Alamos, and other major nuclear sites. He shuddered with fear in the thought that it could happen again, even though the current regime had known peace for years. Walking over to the back of the room, he pulled a quarter from his pocket. Much of the American currency had managed to survive the war. Shortly after the coin dropped into the slot, the switch was released. A clicking noise was heard, and the heavy "Out of Order" dryer was pulled away from its place.

As he descended into the lower floors, the rooms began to smell more and more of stale cheese snacks and flat sodas. Many lab workers had been slaving away at the project for years, and it was only in an experimental state at best. A flash went off, leaving everyone nearby blinded momentarily. If lightning had struck, right in the center of the room, it may have been less bright. A disgruntled worker hobbled towards him, sweating, and rubbing his eyes. The employee's mouth moved, but no words come out. It occurred to him that he wasn't quite deaf, so he reached into his ears and pulled out the earbuds that had kept out the excessive propaganda being blown over the government-mandated loudspeakers. The employee mumbled something about a field test, and suddenly, the loud room full of yapping workers went silent. Nobody mentioned a test of the machine, not this early into the development. Another employee stood from his cubicle-like desk. Suddenly, each office chair in the room grew empty, with the tired, dead eyes of each worker looking directly into his own. "No," he grunted. "We'll give the machine a test, but not this soon. I don't want to waste any time. We have to make sure it works before we give it a real test." His room full of workers suddenly began to grin. This is what they had been hoping for, a chance to stop thinking about what could be of the past and future, and do something about it.

His mouth opened, and he softly spoke. "I want to see the Historic Team in five minutes, by the briefing room."