“I’m you’re supervisor, Director Chugayev.” My guide turned to look at me as we strode down a tunnel. “I have to say, you’re not what I expected from an expert in philosophy and anthropology.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “You pictured an old guy in a gray suit, with patches on the elbows and maybe a bow tie?”
Chugayev laughed. “Yes, I suppose I was.”
I laughed too. I’d chosen the jeans and hoody outfit on purpose. Though I really did have two top degrees—political science and philosophy, both earned by the time I was 18—it was hard for people to believe that a 24-year-old was some kind of academic expert. Dressing like the old guard would have made me look like a fake. Instead, I’d modeled my cover on youthful entrepreneurs and tech geniuses, the kind of guys who bucked the rules of how important people should dress and behave. That was a cover story I could live up to.
“Have they briefed you on your role here?” Chugayev asked.
“Not at all,” I replied. The less I said myself, the more I could learn from him.
“Argh, those idiots at the ministry!” He shook a skinny fist in the air. “Can’t they ever do their jobs?”
“Bureaucrats, huh? What are you going to do?”
“I’m not going to deliver their stupid induction briefing, that’s for sure.” Chugayev sighed. “It’s all out of date now anyway. Better to just show you the site.”
“The site?”
He grinned. “You’ll see.”
At the end of the corridor, Chugayev entered a numerical code to open a security door. We emerged onto the mountainside, but higher up, close to the temple. I pulled my coat back on, but as we reached the doors of the temple, I realized that I didn’t need it. The place had the gentle warmth of a spring morning, not the icy chill of the world around it.
We walked through the temple’s main gate, across a courtyard, and through a pair of double doors. Inside was a chamber of ancient-looking stone. Symbols were carved into the walls, and ethereal green lights glowed at the heart of some of the carvings. Around the room, men and women were examining the symbols, scanning them with high-tech gadgets and making notes on computer tablets. Two were arguing fiercely about what a certain symbol meant. On a pedestal in the center of the room stood an orb carved with intricate markings similar to those on the walls, the same eerie green light emerging from around the edges.
“What is this?” I asked, staring in amazement.
“You’ll see.” Chugayev grinned even more broadly, then raised his voice. “Everybody out!”
“But, Director—” a woman began.
“Exactly, I’m the director,” he said. “Now, get out.”
Chugayev winked at me as the researchers filed past, grumbling.
“Scientists,” he said. “Got to keep them in line.”
When the room was empty, he strode over to the orb and ran his fingers over it, marking out a pattern.
“I’ve been watching them do this,” he said. “Worked it out for myself.”
I stepped closer to see what was happening.
The world seemed to lurch around me. For a moment, there was nothing beneath my feet. Then, I found myself back in the tunnel in the research complex, striding toward the exit alongside Chugayev.
I stopped, touched the wall to make sure it was real, and stared at him. The director laughed.
“Did you just teleport us?” I asked.
“Even better,” Chugayev said. “Time travel. When we get back there, those scientists will be where we left them, waiting to be kicked out all over again.”
The director led me out of the security door and toward the temple again.
My mind was spinning. I now knew why the Russians were pouring so many resources into an obscure temple hidden up in the Himalayas. If they could travel back in time, what might they do with that technology? Go back to the Cold War and change its end in their favor? Why not go even further back and transform the whole of human history to fit their agenda? Clearly, they hadn’t mastered the tech yet or they would have changed things already.
I had to learn everything I could and get a message out fast.
“Everybody out!” Chugayev shouted as we entered the chamber again.
Once more, the scientists grudgingly obeyed.
The director pulled a hip flask from his pocket and took a swig, then passed it to me. “Here, Mr Leontev,” he said. “Something to help you cope.”
I accepted the flask and tipped it back, making a small sip look like a huge swallow. It was good-quality vodka and I could have done with more, but I needed to stay alert.
“It’s magical, of course.” Chugayev ran a hand over the orb.
“Of course.” I handed back the flask.
However Chugayev had received the post of Director, it clearly wasn’t because of his brains. Though the style of the orb was ancient, and its engravings somewhere between Chinese and Japanese characters, it was also clearly a work of technology. Its body was transparent, and the lines within it were all circuitry rather than veins running through stone. Although the device’s surface was worn and looked as if it’d weathered the passing of centuries, it had to be something modern.
A chirping sound came from Chugayev’s pocket, and he pulled out his phone to answer a call.
“What?” he snapped. “...Fine. I’m on my way.” He turned to me. “We have to go.”
“Perhaps I could stay and look at this some more?”
“Not without supervision.” Chugayev looked distracted. His eyes flitted between me and the door. “Come, we have to go.”
We walked out of the temple, through the security door, and back into the tunnels.
“Wait here,” Chugayev ordered, then strode away.
As soon as he was out of sight, I turned back to the door. It had been easy to note and memorize the director’s security code when we passed through before. In a moment, I was through the door, across the hillside, and
