Vanessa Riley, physicist, shrewd negotiator, clean-room specialist, and troubleshooter for Idiro, Incorporated. Idiro, “one of the leading systems integrators in science, technology, and engineering, the solutions that transform and enable the visions of our customers into reality,” that is if you bought into the propaganda crafted into their mission and vision statement.
We both built the interface and developed the technology for Idiro. She and I created the ripples in reality to bring about the possibilities that the Higgs Singlets brought to a burgeoning population hungry for potentiality. We crafted the pathway for humanity to move into an unbelievable future — or an incredible past, as was the case.
The board of directors were awash in the glaze that came over earnings calls and quarterly reports. Idiro was poised for movement in government sectors and the ability to discover what went on in history. The project was to remove the mysteries that were involved in the current documentation of the long-past.
At first, I was pretty excited about what Vanessa and I had discovered. We were high from the accomplishment. The long years of working through the mathematics of it all. The theoretical tests and heated debates. We grew closer to the inevitable eventuality of falling into a rough-and-tumble relationship where we were wrecking the beds of our individual dorm rooms on the Corporate Campus.
Vanessa was all-in with the project. She was awestruck with the absolute knowledge that could be collected. She believed in the guidelines that were put into place by the project leads and the oversight committees.
Me, being who I was, didn’t have complete buy-in on the project brief. The project was never for just the cataloging and recording of lost history. It never was.
Contractors from outside agencies were brought on soon after the project received official funding from DARPA. The project management changed over the next few months. Idiro was now taking on more of a subcontractor role. The DARPA folks were exercising more control and conducting meetings and experiments that I was not invited to attend.
They kept Vanessa on. She tried to tell me that it was all about plausible deniablity and security protections. Vanessa spun a story about limitations for outside personnel accessing the intelligence data. It was all about licenses and protocols.
It was all bullshit. I knew I was being pushed out. Everything was being compartmentalized. It wasn’t long after the DARPA invasion, I was asked to step down from the project, sign the iron-clad NDA, and terminate my employment from Idiro.
I complied. What choice did I have? I shifted focus and stuffed the science down into tiny little boxes. I shoved the emotions into bags. I chewed on the betrayal and loss and digested the bile that came from it. It took the better part of two decades in order to begin to move on. There was always a slow-burning simmer deep within me.
There was never any mention of the project. Never any mention of new information of historical revelation. No new technological advancements were being released. None that I could tell, anyway.
Idiro came back into my life after I had retired to Nebraska. I had a small plot of land far and well away from the hard science of my early years. In the winter, I shoveled snow and skied cross-country. In the summer, I sat outside and felt the warm breeze on my skin. I began to feel comfortable in my skin. I grew crops and worked on living in the moment.
There was no pressure of being forced out of your own project. There was no board meetings and proofs. There was no Idiro or DARPA. There was no ethical issues with letting genies out of bottles. There were no expectations of bridging portals to the future or the past through manipulation of the Higgs Singlet.
I don’t know why I didn’t expect the black SUVs pushing up dust trails on the road heading to my home. I don’t know why I hadn’t anticipated them or set up shells to hide myself from Idiro and DARPA. I don’t know why I let the various agents draped in the Vanderbilt Men’s Collection and flashing credentials onto my land and confront me as I sat under the cloud cover on a warm afternoon.
The four of them were a cover poster for equal opportunity. There was a tall black man with a slim build. Wirey and strong. Two average white men, nondescript in every way. The leader of the group was slightly shorter with a broad chest and thick arms.
“Doctor Bromleigh Pollia?” The leader asked. He had a smart haircut and a five-o-clock shadow. He took off his sunglasses. His eyes were showing a practiced concern. I could only assume he was either Japanese or Korean. He had that look.
“You’ve found me.” I didn’t bother denying it. They clearly knew who and where I was. I am too old to play games with folks anymore. I just want to do the job and get back to living.
“We with,” he began.
“Doesn’t matter who you’re with,” I interrupted him. “You’re needing me to clean something up that Idiro messed up.” The four men in front of me stiffened. “Technically DARPA messed it up.”
Haircut sort of smiled, letting his mask slip for a moment. Clearly, he wasn’t as much a flesh-bot as I had expected. The other three were stoic shadows in their black sunglasses and suits. The only real difference between them were the color of their ties.
Honestly, I don’t know exactly why I walked back into that life. I suppose I was caught in the nostalgia of it all. Perhaps I missed the friendships and the challenges. In looking back, I knew I did it for her. In truth, it was always for her.
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