dropped into a crouch next to the apparatus. She held her eyes level with the laser and peered down the length of its path, across the field of crisscrossing lines as they blinked on and off.
I, for my part, lifted my camera and popped off the lens cap. The laser was lit for only brief periods—a quarter of a second, maybe—and it took me about twenty shots before I managed to get a picture of the bright green pattern spread between those mirrors. I would have loved to have gotten a picture halting the light in motion—with the path half lit, a visible head or tail—but there was no shutter speed that fast, no way to halt the world and capture that shot. I stayed near the “head” of the apparatus, grabbing top-down views between the two mirrors.
“Can I get a hit off that, Floyd?”
At first, I didn’t notice anything strange about the voice—just words floating in the space behind me—and I kept taking pictures. Then it registered. It was Devon.
By the time I turned, Taylor, Floyd, and Charlie were already facing the doorway. Devon was standing there with his arms crossed against his chest. He had an uncomfortable grin on his lips, expectant and wary.
“It bounces over seven hundred times,” he said. “Over two miles in length. That’s what they said, Charlie. That’s what your parents told me.”
Charlie and Floyd advanced at the same time. Only a couple of steps—Floyd angry, Charlie shocked, his hands out, imploring—before they both pulled to a stop. It was synchronized almost, and they both stood there for a prolonged beat, unsure of their next choreographed step.
“Wait, wait!” Devon said, holding up his hands to ward them off. His attention mostly remained fixed on Floyd. Floyd was the angry one. Charlie was just confused and desperate.
“You were spying on us!” Floyd barked. His voice was an angry growl at first; then it trailed off into weak confusion: “Pretending to be our friend, then watching us through binoculars. Staring at us through our windows! And then … the tunnels?”
“I can explain. Just … just stay calm. All of you.” His eyes flickered from Floyd to Taylor, as if he were looking to her for help, an assurance that she’d keep us all in line.
But Taylor just stared. I didn’t know what she was thinking. She hadn’t seen the radio, or the binoculars, or the wires beneath the house. It hadn’t been her father’s voice that had echoed out of Devon’s radio, reporting in and taking orders. But Devon
“Okay,” I said. “Everyone, let’s just be cool.”
I took a step forward and made soothing motions with my hands, trying to keep Floyd and Charlie back. I wanted to keep the situation under control. I crossed to Floyd’s side and put a hand on his shoulder. “We can let him talk. Okay?”
Floyd grunted, reluctantly acquiescing.
Devon thanked me with an appreciative nod, but I just shook my head. I was not his friend. I wasn’t doing this for him.
“I didn’t mean to cause you any harm—none of you, really—and I don’t think I did. I was just watching, making sure nothing bad happened.” He took a deep breath, bracing himself, then continued. “You see, I work for a group—” He paused for a moment, then came up with a new term. “—a consortium, I guess you could call it, with national and international business interests … and grand political schemes. Or maybe just grand political delusions—I’m not too sure about the reality on that one. My father got me the job; he’s pretty high up in the organization—sold his soul for that portfolio, right? Anyway, they placed me in the city. At first, I was an administrator in the investigative unit—” He gestured up toward the building above our heads. “—but I stayed on after it started falling apart, after the military took control. I wasn’t the only one. There were other moles, but most of them fled during the transition. And of the ones who stayed, I think I might be the last one left. At least, that’s the impression I get whenever they contact me. They’re getting desperate, you see. They lost their bead on the situation, and they’re not used to that. They’re not used to losing control.”
“What did they have you do?” I asked.
“Like I said, I was an administrator. It was my job to facilitate things, get the experts the gear and supplies they needed in order to do their research. I got them copy paper, I made sure their computers worked, I helped them organize their expeditions. I did anything and everything they asked me to do. That was my job. I’d get in tight, you see, and they’d tell me all of their theories, all of their hypotheses, and I’d relay it back out of the city.” He nodded toward Charlie. “That’s how I met your parents. That’s how I learned about this.” He gestured toward the laser apparatus in the middle of the room.
“What is it?” I asked.
I addressed the question to Devon, but Charlie was the one who answered. “It’s measuring the speed of light,” he said quietly.
Devon nodded. He looked impressed. “It’s counting the length of time it takes for the laser beam to travel from one end of its path to the other.”
“But why?” Taylor asked. “That’s a known constant.”
“Not anymore,” Charlie answered. “At least, not here.” There was a terrified expression on his face as he turned and gestured toward one of the computer monitors. After a moment’s hesitation, Taylor, Floyd, and I approached. The screen was filled with lines of text, and each time the apparatus flashed, a new line appeared at the top of the screen. It was a time stamp, followed by a long string of digits.
As we watched, the digits changed: 299,792,457.99999908 became 299,792,457.99999907.
“Those are meters per second,” Charlie explained. “It’s getting slower. The speed of light … it’s changing.”
“Your parents had a hypothesis,” Devon said. “They believed that the universe was slowing down. Maybe it’s just stopped expanding, or maybe it’s actively shrinking, but either way, physics has changed—time has changed— and it’s still changing.”
“We wouldn’t be able to survive that,” Charlie said. “Even the slightest shift. The movement of atoms, neurons in the brain—it would all fail. If something like that happened, it’d be the end of everything! No life, no substance.”
“Yeah,” Devon replied, smiling grimly. “That’s what they tell me.”
“What are they doing now? My parents—are they here, are they trying to explain this?”
“No,” Devon said. “They aren’t here. Not anymore.”
“Then where? Where did they go?”
Devon paused for a long moment, casting careful glances at each of us in turn. “They’re dead, Charlie,” he finally replied. “They’re dead, and you know it.”
“No,” Charlie said, his brow furrowing in confusion. “They aren’t dead. They sent me emails. I have pictures of them, in the city. I heard you talking to my father!”
“No, Charlie. They’re dead,” Devon repeated. After a handful of seconds, he continued reluctantly: “Hell, you were there, at the funeral. September 15, just outside of Portland. I saw the pictures.”
“No,” Charlie said, shaking his head in disbelief. Then his face crinkled up in a sudden moment of doubt
“Your parents ran tests. They confirmed—” He gestured toward the apparatus. “—they checked interference patterns or something. And then they took a car … I don’t think they could handle it anymore, watching the world fall apart—this was just after the mayor disappeared, when everyone in the building was starting to see things, starting to freak out. Your mother told me it was going to spread, it was going to infect the entire world. It was just a matter of time.” Devon paused. His voice turned soft, sympathetic. “The official reports—the police told you it was an accident, they told you that your father lost control of the car, but I think your parents just didn’t want to see what was coming. I don’t think they could handle it.”
“No. It’s a lie. It’s impossible. I don’t remember … why wouldn’t I remember?” Charlie turned abruptly and kicked out at the laser apparatus, slamming his foot into the nearest mirror. The laser tipped off its axis, and the
