Meridian - A Novel In Time

They had argued Time Theory many times before, but now that the project was at the very edge of their first real attempt at opening the continuum, the debate had begun to heat up again. Nordhausen, ever the devil's advocate, was constantly jabbing at Dorland's theory, in spite of his enormous commitment of time and resources to the effort that had brought them all this far. It was, however, the last thing Dorland needed just now. Healthy skepticism was one thing, but lately Nordhausen had begun to show real signs of backing out of the project altogether.

"Well it's obvious that he hasn't given it much thought," said Dorland over his shoulder at Maeve. "I mean there are any number of ways I could answer his argument."

"Indulge me." Nordhausen folded his arms with a smug look on his face. "And will you please stop drumming your fingers on the table!"

Dorland looked at his hand, and then ran it through his full brown hair. Unlike Nordhausen the ravages of time lay gently on him. They were the same age, but Paul still looked ten years younger, and some even thought he was still in his thirties. "Alright," he began, "let's put your pessimism aside for a moment and suppose we're successful tomorrow. If that's the case then we will have accomplished something that will have the most profound effect I can imagine on the future course of history."

"Yes, yes," said Nordhausen, conceding the point. "All future time lines would be vulnerable to alteration if we're successful."

"All time lines," said Dorland, "both future and past. That makes the experiment tomorrow a Deep Nexus, which would make this whole milieu a Point of Origin-closed to any temporal contamination according to my theory-unless it's done by one of us here on the inside. So that's why we don't have visitors in the back of the room slurping coffee, Professor. It's really simple, if you think on it." He mocked his adversary to make his point, but the grin on his face betrayed the long friendship between the two men, in spite of their obvious intellectual differences. It was this bond, forged over some thirty years, that had kept Nordhausen involved in the project, though at times he was a reluctant warrior.

"Well there wouldn't be enough to go around anyway," Maeve chimed in as she slid another volume from the bookcase, frowning at the dust on the binding. "Make another pot, Paul. It looks like we're going to be here for a while. Did you bring Peets?"

"Guatemala," said Dorland absent mindedly as he flipped through the pages of a notebook, still hot on the trail of his argument with Nordhausen.

"I thought you were going to bring Major Dickason's blend tonight. Guatemala is a good breakfast coffee but we'll need something a little stronger if Robert starts digging his heels in again."

"Oh come now, Maeve," Nordhausen protested mildly. "I'm just trying to make him think about his own theory here. He dreamt up all this stuff, remember? The idea of a time 'penumbra' is convenient, but nothing more than pure speculation. I think my argument still holds up quite well. If they could visit a pivotal event like this, they would visit it. And since we can't even seem to get Kelly to join us in a timely manner, I'm not expecting anyone else to show up either."

Maeve was frowning at the spine of a volume of The Norton Anthology of Literature.