The Escapement Mechanism, Prologue 2
Gerty surveyed the client. Military haircut and uniform. A smug smile even though he was just reviewing the waiver he was required to sign. High ranking; her superior on paper, though she had never seen him before. Obviously used to getting what he wanted---formalities and legalities small nuisances that he tolerated.
It made him the perfect subject. The type of human most likely to take full advantage of what the service offered. Everyone had desires they would only fulfill when they were sure no one was watching, but a smaller segment of the population reserved some acts for when they knew they wouldn't get caught, or in this case when no one would remember the deeds.
Major General Stan Matthers. Gerty was just glad he didn't frequent Shooters, the one bar behind the razor wire and guards. If Stan insisted, she doubted he was used to taking "no" for an answer, and she didn't want the downstream career repercussions that came with that.
He checked his watch, the one item on his body not standard issue. "Is this show goin', or what?"
"Yes, sir. Just awaiting your signature here." Gerty pointed to a blank spot on the freshly typed page, "and your initial here."
Consent from all participants was required, despite there technically being no security level that applied to the program. Lieutenant General Dunk briefed the President directly. Those who signed on to the project were not permitted to leave, though they had all been assured that this Christmas would see them visit their families. They had said the same thing about Thanksgiving. And the weeks of summer holidays.
Stan eagerly spilled his ink over the document, and reached across the desk to grab the device that Gerty had prepared. It sat centered on a white towel in the middle of a serving platter.
Gerty swatted his hand out of the way. The rage loaded quickly, turning his face a deep crimson, about to fire off a verbal invective that subordinates around the base were used to enduring.
But he caught Gerty's eyes, and her "shut the fuck up" vibes were enough to stay his tongue. Maybe it was the possibility of losing access to the device in its trial stages. It had happened a few times already. Some people simply did not have the mental fortitude to experience independent, temporally concurrent time. Others looked good on paper but ended up in the medical tent for indeterminate monitoring, their brains not able to reconcile their experiences with the reality that everyone else continued to exist in.
Stan lowered his hand, like a dog chastised for reaching for a treat. "I guess a kid never gets over Christmas morning," he said. It was the only time Gerty had viewed him as a person who could have possibly come from a family.
But she still waited a few pauses longer than needed before handing the Escapement Mechanism over. It was completely black. Not the black that shimmered blue in the sun or faded in the wash, but the darkness of complete absence. On more than one occasion Gerty had wondered about a hole in the desk, only to see the red pinprick slowly pulse into view, and then disappear just as serenely from the center of the device. As if it were the steady breath of some alien, which was closer to the truth than anyone on base was willing to publicly admit.
Gerty only worked with the device through the interface and commercialization group. She wasn't directly involved with the R&D of any new technology, but rumours had it that this time no one had been. Found technology. A sentiment that briefly escaped containment.
But the standard play of discrediting a few witnesses, and alternate explanations for what had been reported in two separate local newspapers eventually had the desired effect. Only one person at the most vociferous paper had lost their job.
"At the back of your neck," said Gerty, miming how to place it. She walked behind Stan to observe and saw the device sink into his neck and the flesh enfold it until there were no physical seams. To run your hand over it would only notice the strikingly cold temperature. No matter the environment they had placed it in---a liquid nitrogen bath, or a blast furnace---it had maintained its structural integrity and constant temperature of 1.7°C.
"You've signed the waiver, but I need final verbal consent. Do you acknowledge the potential psychological risks, some permanent, from the temporal dissonance that you are about to experience? Including but not limited to memory loss, trouble sleeping, and in rare cases severe cognitive decline. Do you also acknowledge that you will be the sole maintainer of the memories acquired during the test, and there are no circumstances under which any of us can help you to confirm or deny the events that are about to transpire?" Gerty's immediate supervisor had insisted on the inclusion of the final clause, to prime the mind for lawlessness if it had not already been anticipatorily soaked in it.
"I do."
All that was left to do was have Stan instigate a temporal thread that would branch off from the timeline that everyone else experienced together. For as long as the device was active, the experiences within the branch would remain only memories, and ones that only Stan retained.
For the rest of the test team, including the video recording the proceedings in the office, it would be as if nothing had transpired between the activation of the device and its deactivation. On more than one video playback, Gerty had cringed at herself. "Is it over," she would ask, knowing full well that it was. Even having used the device once herself, it was hard to fathom the person in front of you, seemingly unchanged, had experienced two hours of the world that simply didn't exist for you.
Major General Stan Matthers would behave as Gerty assumed all subjects under the device did. As she had, from the single-use she had been permitted. Everyone on the team was required to have first-hand experience.
Even so, there were hiccups. "How dare you ruin the best moment of my life?" one had asked.
"Worse than being woken up from the most amazing dream," was a refrain they had heard more than once.
All subjects were required to give an overview of everything that had transpired while using the device. Everyone lied. As Gerty had. It made Gerty uneasy about the whole program. In theory the device could be used for massive gains of intelligence. Espionage. The production of an inhuman amount of work. But even on a first use, the tendency was towards the basest of human desires. These were encouraged with the higher-ups who needed to approve future funding releases when they demoed the device. They needed to be on-board from a personal level, not just one of state craft.
"It's activated," said Gerty.
"For sure?" asked Stan.
"Guaranteed." The rapidity of the red pulse left no doubt.
"Then I suppose you won't remember this," Stan said. He slapped Gerty across the cheek, open-handed. It stunned her, even as she was certain it hadn't been his full force.
"No sir," she said through watering eyes. "And I won't remember this either." She kicked him hard between the legs.
He would remember, but there wouldn't be any physical remainder. If he got upset, he would need to admit his own actions. And even with someone like Stan she didn't think that likely. The old creeps liked to keep their veneer of respectability untarnished.
She didn't stick around though. Not remembering physical pain wouldn't diminish it in the present. As Stan sputtered retribution, bent over, Gerty left to go find the other women in the break room. They had all silently agreed to steer clear of these experiments and now spent the time enjoying treats and coffee. Some experiences she didn't mind repeating.
"Bad start to this one," Gerty said, pouring a coffee.
"Jesus, your cheek!" said Cheryl.
"I don't think the net value of this thing is going to end up being positive," said Laeni. She was already on her second donut. "But most things I like aren't." She shrugged.
"Most things here are only a net positive for our side," said Gerty.
Cheryl had come up to give Gerty's cheek a closer look. "I'd like to remain on top, but Jesus!" she let Gerty's hair fall back from her hand.
"I bet Adam hears that a lot," said Laeni.
They all laughed, but it died quickly, creating a silence that they just sat in, washing down the dry cake with lukewarm coffee. It was the only time in her life that she wished she had taken a few philosophy courses at school.