Days 27-28 (Coincidence)

14 Coincidence

``The Machine's not perfect.''

``You don't say.'' Grant said, annoyed.

He looked over the bed (his bed - the cot had been suitable for
only a very short time, after which they'd gone to his house) at
where Rosetta was still sleeping. If he hadn't woken up early and
been unable to get back to sleep, it'd probably have been her
talking on the phone to VonCannon. That was a conversation he
could do without hearing.

The professor was, as usual, completely oblivious to the
situation. ``I mean, think about it. It was made by me and while
I am indeed a gifted inventor, I am by no means perfect. There
must be flaws in the machine.''

``Good to know.'' Grant yawned, trying to muffle it from the
phone.

``It can figure out a great many things, you see. It can predict
some of the outcomes of its actions, but not all of them. How
would you get around something like that?''

``I don't know.'' Damn the man for not taking a hint!

``Iteration!'' VonCannon said the word triumphantly, as though it
held any meaning to the reporter. ``You don't change everything
at once; instead, you pick a key pivotal event and change it.
Then you see if this gets you built any sooner. Finally, you send
your next change through the time machine and repeat the process.''

Grant suppressed the urge to say his next thought, which was that
Malachai was a madman. Instead, he asked with as much politeness
as he could muster: ``Where are you going with this?''

The professor seemed annoyed with Grant's impatience. ``It was
only a theory until this morning. Then I discovered evidence. My
entire laboratory is infected with the Vervicom virus.''

``Isn't that to be expected, though?'' Wynn tried to keep up his
end of the conversation. ``You had the thing all over your lab.''

``Yes and no.'' was the cryptic answer. ``I am unsurprised that
the machine I made for the specific purpose of analyzing the
virus is itself infected. However, I built a scanner from what I
have learned, one which itself does not carry part of the virus
but is capable of detecting it. Running it on any machine in my
lab results in infection. You'll be glad to know that machines at
the local computer store are not. I had to have a control group,
even if it means I am not allowed back in that particular store.''

Grant found himself wondering if there was, at this moment,
another group of people forming a petition to have VonCannon
re-committed. ``You're isolated from the internet, though, right?''
he asked. If Malachai had infected the world at large with the
virus, it wouldn't matter if it was from the future or not; they
were all pretty much screwed.

``Of course I do!'' he sounded offended. ``I've operated the
entire building away from outside networks ever since I started
operating in it at all! Of course, this was at first to prevent
designs of mine from being spirited away by unethical hackers,
but it in this case was effective the other way.''

``So what's the problem?''

``Were you not listening to me? Every machine in my warehouse
capable of being infected is. Every single one. Including, I am
sad to say, the Time Machine.''

Grant resisted the urge to sigh. Since his conversation with
Rose, he'd become a great deal more skeptical toward the
Professor's Machines. At least, those that weren't Immobile or
Disappointing. ``So the virus can spread through time?''

``It already has!'' he announced. ``What are the symptoms of the
virus? Power surges, electronics going haywire - exactly the sort
of thing that happened when I first plugged the Time Machine in!
The virus originated from there, and when the Machine is done
with this run, it will retransmit itself for the next.''

``So it's already too late.'' Grant said.

``Oh, no. I haven't transmitted anything through the machine - I
didn't want to disturb my readings of it. For over a decade now,
I have had a computer attempting to interpret the data coming
through the device. The irony being that I was expecting such a
message to be for humans to read and had adjusted the programming
thusly. It never occurred to me that I should look for a message
a machine could understand!''

``If it's not too late,'' Wynn asked slowly, ``Why can't you just
shut it down now?''

``Ha!'' was the derisive reply. ``When the late Doctor Caster was
about to fire me for the havoc my creation was wreaking, he asked
me that same question. Do you know what I said?''

``Something dire, no doubt.''

``You're damn right, dire! It's a hole in time, if I stop it
before I send back the data that I myself received, you know what
happens?''

``No.'' Grant admitted.

``Neither do I.'' VonCannon replied, completely seriously. ``
Neither does anyone. One idea is that events would unfold as they
had originally, meaning that the machine would still be built -
albeit perhaps later - and the cycle would start over again
until, at this point, we stop it, meaning it starts again. Being
forever trapped in a never-ending time loop is the most
optimistic of outcomes, I might add. It's equally as possible
that our universe would simply cease to exist altogether.''

``Fine, you can't shut it off.'' Grant said. ``What can we do?''

``Continue the analysis, as I have been. I suspect that, now that
you've inspired me to begin my work in earnest, the virus will
cease interfering. Regardless, I know it is important to you that
your life be yours. That,'' he concluded, ``is why I am keeping
you informed.''

``Thank you.'' the reporter replied, not entirely feeling it. In
the light of Rosetta's revelations, VonCannon's ramblings
continued to look less and less plausible.

VonCannon hung up.

Grant put the phone down and looked over at Rosetta, who'd
managed to stay asleep during the whole exchange. He was glad
he'd picked it up earlier when he'd heard it go off, else it
almost certainly would have-

The phone rang.

Rosetta woke up.

``Sorry,'' he said, mentally cursing the imaginary mind-reading
meddling device from the future which dished out coincidences at
inopportune times. He looked at the caller ID and frowned.
Patrick Brooks? He checked the time to find that his instinct was
correct - at 10:15, Patrick was almost certainly calling from
work. He answered.

``Grant, that you?'' the question came before Grant could even
say 'hello'.

``Yes Pat, are you safe to talk?''

``Yeah, yeah, I don't think that matters. Listen, you have to get
down here right now.''

Grant shook his head to clear it of sleep and the confusion
talking to VonCannon had engendered. ``To Vervicom? Assuming they
don't want me dead, I don't think I'd be doing you any favors by
associating with you in pub-''

``That doesn't matter!'' Patrick's voice had become agitated. ``
The shit is going down here, very soon, and I need you here to
make sure you see what's happening.''

``What's going to-'' Grant asked, but the line had gone dead. Had
Patrick hung up on him? He'd seemed tense but not angry. Grant
took a chance and dialed back.

``Work?'' Rosetta asked. Her face was half-smiling, half-worried,
and Grant knew that he must seemed unnerved indeed if it had
affected Rose. He nodded a reply.

``Vervicom regrets to inform you that all circuits are currently
busy.'' a friendly pre-recorded voice informed him. It was all he
needed to hear.

``I need to go.'' he said. ``Now.''

Rose was out of bed. ``Three straight days of lounging around in
bed, and now they expect you to jump at a moment's notice, huh?''
she said. She was, despite her words, getting dressed.

``Pretty much.'' Grant said noncommittally. He was following suit
- trying to find something presentable to wear while at the same
time figuring out the logistics of dropping Rosetta off and
getting to Vervicom. He couldn't take her there, he'd already
decided. For one, it'd compromise the anonymity of his source.
For another, Pat had indicated it was going to get dangerous. The
reporter reflected on his inability to contact his source -
perhaps it had already become dangerous.

They drove back into town in silence, though at least it was a
comfortable silence. For her part, Rosetta kept poking him
affectionately. At one point, she spoke up. ``I'm not saying much
because I'm happy, just so you know.'' she leaned back and
smiled. ``Don't feel the need to talk right now. Besides,''
another poke came along, ``you look pretty stressed out about
this work thing.''

He laughed. ``Yeah, that phone call was just weird is all, but
it's a reliable source, so I've got to get down there.''

``You'll call me later, right?'' she said as they neared the
recycling plant some time later.

This got through his tension somewhat. ``Count on it.''

She smiled, and left. He tried not to peel out of the parking lot
immediately, but it was what he wanted to do. Something horrible
was happening at Vervicom, he could feel it. He tried to raise
Patrick again on his cellphone to no avail.

By the time he arrived at the building, he knew something
horrible was happening. The building was on fire.

He parked his car in the first spot he could find, mentally
hoping his press pass would be enough to deflect people
attempting to ticket it. A crowd had already formed, mostly of
evacuated Vervicom employees.

``Patrick Brooks!'' he shouted. So much for keeping the identity
of his source a secret, but Pat himself had said that it didn't
matter anymore and by the looks of it he was right.

``Hey, you're the Gazette guy, aren't you?'' a voice asked.

Grant cringed. He had been hoping not to be recognized - working
in paper journalism had the side benefit that not as people knew
you on sight. He turned to see David, one of the original
interviewees he'd spoken to about Dr. Caster.

``Oh, Hi David.'' he said, trying not to look as relieved as he
felt. ``Have you seen Patrick around here?''

David shook his head. ``I saw him inside, but I don't think he
made it out.'' he looked around as though to see if anyone was
listening, but their attention was solely for the fire. ``Between
you and me, he was acting really strange before the fire broke
out.''

``Strange how?'' Grant asked, thinking back to their phone
conversation. He'd seemed strange then, too.

``It's like he knew it was coming.'' Dave kept talking in low
tones, requiring Grant to strain his hearing in order to catch
everything. ``He was doing something with the you-know-what,'' at
the reporter's honestly blank look, he added in even quieter
tones, ``The virus! The one that doesn't officially exist.''

``Ah, that.''

``Yes.'' David continued, ``Patrick had been tracking its
activity ever since the higher-ups demanded it happen. I mean, we
all had, but he seemed to take it personally, didn't like that
systems he considered his had been compromised. I guess he saw
something that tipped him off, because next thing you know he's
pulling the fire alarm and calling someone.''

Grant's phone rang, and he nearly swore. He excused himself from
David's conversation and answered with a strained ``Hello!''

``Grant! Are you somewhere safe?'' It was VonCannon again. Grant
idly wondered when they'd become on a first-name basis.

Nonetheless, he looked around him. There was a crowd of people,
fire crews everywhere, police keeping everyone back and directing
people streaming from the still-evacuated building. He felt the
urge to ask ``From what?'' but, since he probably wouldn't like
the answer, he simply replied ``Yes.''

``Good.'' Malachai seemed unconcerned with the details, instead
going directly to his point, ``I have isolated the part of the
virus responsible for the early fire-suppression failures during
my tenure at the university.'' he seemed excited. ``It is not
specific to my university! So ensure you're outside, other
affected buildings are very unsafe at this moment.''

``You don't say.'' Grant replied flatly, looking at the
still-burning Vervicom building. ``Do you have a TV in that
warehouse of yours?''

``Well, yes, but I don't see how-''

``Turn it on. Find a news station.'' Grant instructed.

There was a moment of blessed silence while Grant relished in
switching roles. Now it was he giving the cryptic instructions
and the ex-professor obeying without question.

An intake of breath could be heard from the other side of the
conversation. ``I seem to be too late with my warning.''

``Found anything else I should know about in that virus?''

VonCannon was still fixated on the burning building. ``This is
bad news for us. Tell me, were you on your way to that building
this morning.''

``Yeah. You think this is on purpose, don't you?'' he tried to
say this without accusation, but could not keep the tone entirely
from his voice.

Malachai actually seemed abashed by this. ``I apologize to you,
Grant. I thought that - with the virus' work done, it would
simply become inactive. I did not forsee this. It is obviously
attempting to clean up after itself.''
[(0x0100) VonCannon is partially correct in this - early runs
resulted in many time-altering machines running in competition,
but resulted only in delayed results. It was decided then that
there would only be one, and all attempts to create others or
spread the knowledge of their creation must be halted. At the
same moment of the fire to destroy the primary storage of the
virus, offsite backups were also wiped.]

``What's this mean for me?'' he said. He still wasn't ready to
resume belief in an all-seeing machine from the future
manipulating his life, but the virus itself was real enough.

``It means,'' Malachai said gravely, ``that you should go with
all haste to my warehouse. That is the only place you will be
safe - the virus cannot harm me, as I am the one who has to build
the device!''

As much as obeying this command would mean going along with the
Professor's insane theories, Grant could think of no better
course of action. Perhaps while he was there they could uncover
more of the virus' purpose and - here he was entering the realm
of wishful thinking - go back to living a normal life.

``Just drive carefully!'' came a final admonishment from the
doctor. ``Remember how Doctor Caster met his end!''

That was a bit of encouragement that Grant didn't need. Hanging
up the phone, he turned to David.

``If you see Patrick, let him know I came by.''

David was looking a little sick. ``I haven't seen him yet.''

Grant felt torn - Patrick had been by far the best source he'd
ever had. He'd even gone so far as to pull the alarm which
evacuated everyone else from the building and then call him. He
wanted to stay, but what was the point of Pat's actions if Grant
himself, the man who'd written the story for him, got killed? It
seemed unlikely that something would happen to him here, but then
again some Vervicom-made satellite guidance system might decide
to reenter the atmosphere early and obliterate him if he stuck
around.

That decided it for him. If he didn't go to VonCannon where it at
least seemed he was safe, he'd spend the entire day waiting for
something heavy to crush him from above.

He drove as quickly as he dared. The city's economy had been
largely dependent on Vervicom ever since the company had
established its headquarters there, which meant that while a
number of businesses were close enough to the building to be
convenient, it also could afford to place itself far enough away
from downtown to be surrounded by trees and park areas. This
meant that the slow drive to the professor's was one of the most
tense that Grant had ever taken. Everywhere he looked, he saw
potential hazards. He didn't dare depend on his car's anti-lock
brakes, for one. For another, he wasn't sure if he could trust
the traffic lights not to malfunction. Hell, a deadly leak of
natural gas could be taking place under the streets right now,
waiting only to be sparked by the passing of his vehicle's
engines.

At that point, he relaxed somewhat. He didn't believe in the
Coincidence Machine, he repeated. It wasn't real. It couldn't
pinpoint a time when he wouldn't be paying attention to the risks
and kill him then. There was just the virus, and that acted
strangely but comparatively rarely.

Besides, if a homicidal destiny-altering machine from the other
edge of time really was bent on killing him, he reasoned, there
really wasn't much he could do about it.

He almost couldn't believe his eyes as he sighted VonCannon's
warehouse. He'd survived!? He pulled into the nearly-empty
parking lot, as usual, and got out. No accidents. No random fires
since the one he'd left. No satellites coming down from above to
crush him. Unwilling to press his luck, he opened the door to the
warehouse.

The place was once again lit by every available source. VonCannon
was standing near the machine Grant had mistaken for a furnace,
the one the professor claimed was a time machine. He was typing
on Caster's old computer.

``Ah! You have safely arrived, good, good!'' VonCannon even
spared him a frantic grin before returning to his work on the
computer. ``This virus is, I am afraid, quite homicidal. We know
it killed Doctor Caster, yes?''

``Yes.'' That Grant could hardly dispute, regardless of how much
he wanted to. When he thought too much about the agenda of the
virus, he inevitably crossed a line somewhere into VonCannon's
insane theories. He would, on the whole, have preferred Patrick's
stock scam.

``What I have just recently discovered was that the accident
which ended his life was not the first attempt! Look at this!''
He gestured at the screen.

Grant looked, but it seemed like gibberish. He could recognize
the fact that it was a circuit diagram of some sort, but that was
the extent of his ability.

VonCannon seemed to pick this up. ``These diagrams would have
produced an inherently flawed machine, as I theorized when I saw
that thing.'' He gestured to where Grant remembered seeing the
Immobile Machine upon entry. ``What I didn't realize at the time
was that the diagrams have it generating a very large surge of
power. I wouldn't be surprised if it was this surge that disabled
Mason Power later, but I think its initial effect was to attempt
to stun or kill Caster at the moment he activated it!''

``Obviously, it didn't work.'' Grant said, looking at the blank
space he would later remember to have been filled by the machine
in question.

``Caster had been attempting to duplicate my work. I know that
much from your reaction to the Disappointment Machine.'' Malachai
said evenly. ``I think he knew enough about what the Immobile
Machine was supposed to do to know to protect himself from such a
surge, but not enough to know that the surge wasn't really even
supposed to be part of the construction at all.''

``So what's all this mean?''

VonCannon frowned. ``I am sorry to have to say this, but I think
the machine is dedicated to killing you. How much longer would it
have had to wait until you were in that building which caught
fire today? It didn't miss you by much, I suspect. I fear for my
life myself, I might add. At least, I would if I didn't know I
was instrumental to the machine's construction. Even then, if
this is the wrong run, I could be just as doomed as you!'' this
was said in joviality, but Grant could hear the fear underneath.

``What are you talking about?'' he said, for the moment humoring
the Professor's insistence that there was in fact a machine
trying to kill them. ``You've got to build it, it can't kill you.''

``I've been thinking,'' Malachai whispered conspiratorially. ``
Remember how I said that it's the culmination of all the previous
machines I've made? I started to wonder, how would it be powered?
What could keep it going? And it occurred to me - the Oroboros!
It could be like my little Recycling Machine, never actually
stopping itself from being torn down and built up again. In which
case, at some point when it's running low on power over all the
runs, it would start everything over. It would ensure it wasn't
built, in order to cause the first run to happen again, and
recreate it with full power for it to continue its work.''

``That's not likely, is it?'' Grant asked. ``I mean, it could
have killed us at any time if that were the case, it wouldn't
have to wait.'' He hated even pretending he believed this,
because it reminded him that part of his mind did, in fact, still
believe it. Something in him didn't want to let go of the idea.

VonCannon shrugged, indicating he'd thought of this but wasn't
particularly relieved. ``I can't pretend to know the mind - if it
could even be called such - of something I haven't constructed
yet. I can only hope we are safe.''

Some indicator somewhere made a sudden buzzing noise, and Grant
nearly jumped in surprise. VonCannon just swore lightly.

``Damn!'' he said. ``I've got that appointment with the recycler.
Entirely forgot. She's supposed to come here and see what useless
things of mine she can make use of.'' He seemed to finally if
belatedly notice Grant's agitated response. ``I have sensors
along the gate to the street, so I am notified of visitors.'' he
explained.

This statement reassured Grant somewhat, not because it explained
why the professor had always seemed unsurprised to see him, but
more because it reinforced in his mind the image of VonCannon as
paranoid. The significance of who was coming to visit only hit
him as the door opened.

``Ms. Sandys, I presume?'' VonCannon asked as Rosetta walked
through the door.

Rosetta gave him a businesslike nod. ``Doctor VonCannon. We spoke
over the phone previously. I'm afraid,'' followed behind him, as
he'd suddenly started walking back towards Grant, ``that after
researching your background, my company thinks it is ill-advised
to-'' she stopped, having at this point seen Grant.

He'd been wondering where the switches to Malachai's lights were,
so that he could turn one off and hide in its shadow. It was too
late now, though. ``Hey Rose!'' he offered weakly.

Much to his relief, she laughed. ``What's he talked you into now?''

``Well-'' Grant began, but he was interrupted by VonCannon, whose
normal rigid posture had become more tense than he'd ever seen
before.

``You...'' he spoke quietly now, ``know each other?''

``Yes.'' Grant admitted quietly, while Rosetta looked amusedly
on. He was glad on the one hand that she wasn't angry at him for
falling in once more with VonCannon, but disturbed at the
latter's suddenly alarmed stance.

He wheeled on Rose then, deciding she would make a poor subject,
turned back to Grant just as quickly. ``It is vitally important
that you answer this question truthfully, and above all,
immediately!'' his tone was rising in agitation, ``Are you
romantically involved?''

Grant heard Rosetta laugh lightly. She seemed to be finding humor
in it, but he could tell that the professor had never been this
serious. He answered. ``Yes, quite a bit actually.''

``Get. Out.'' The professor said suddenly.

``Works for me.'' Rose answered.

``Wait, what?'' Grant wasn't catching on.

``You understand? It's not trying to kill you, it's trying to
kill all of us! We who are important to its construction, you and
I and I don't know why, but Ms. Sandys as well! And we've gone
and gathered in one convenient spot for it! RUN!'' VonCannon was
shouting now. Rose had already started to leave but had stopped
to look back at the man's babbling. Grant himself didn't know
what he was going to do until he was almost literally pushed into
action.

The computer next to him exploded.

The 'sacrificial PC', as VonCannon had dubbed it, the machine
that'd spent the longest time exposed to the virus, was in fiery
fragments, some of which had embedded themselves in the
as-yet-unfeeling reporter's skin. Other parts of the machine were
starting fires of their own across the warehouse.

Crazy or not, Grant thought as his feet moved of their own
accord, you couldn't argue with a man who told you to run right
before the place started exploding.

Rosetta was the first out, and Grant was quickly after her.
Whatever the material VonCannon had used to black out his lights
turned out to be highly flammable, and the flames quickly spread
to the roof. The professor himself stumbled out into the
daylight, looking dazed. He stood there for a moment
uncomprehendingly before a terrorized look crossed his face, and
he turned to go back in.

``Are you insane!?'' Grant shouted, his own voice nearly
inaudible even to him. He grabbed the wiry professor by the arm
and pulled him away from the warehouse.

``The Time Machine!'' VonCannon shouted back, as though this
explained everything.

``Forget about it!'' Grant kept trying to pull the old man, but
the professor seemed to possess a strength fueled by adrenaline. ``
It's not worth dying!''

VonCannon hit him, then, but failed to gain his freedom. ``You
fool! If I don't use the machine to send back the virus, we might
all as well be dead! Have you forgotten? Now let go!''

Grant held on.

VonCannon took another swing which also didn't hurt Grant much. ``
Think! Think of everything I've told you - is this coincidence,
that my warehouse should burn down the same day as Vervicom!?
Caster died because of this thing! You nearly died too! If I
don't do this we're all dead! If you believe nothing else I have
told you, believe that. You know the virus is real. It was on my
time-monitoring computer and could not have gotten there any
other way. Now let - me - GO!''

He did. It was a decision he'd have to live with the rest of his
life.

Rosetta pushed him down roughly, and in his state of disbelief he
attributed this to the fact that he'd just let an old man go back
into a burning building that would likely claim his life. He
discovered the actual reason a fraction of a moment later when
the facade of the building began collapsing. VonCannon was
already back inside, but if Grant hadn't been pushed away from
his original position he'd have been crushed. She was helping him
up, mouthing words he couldn't hear. He could barely stand - all
his strength seemed to have left him suddenly, as though
VonCannon had taken it before sacrificing himself.

He leaned on Rose as she dragged him from the parking lot. They
watched the warehouse burn, looking for any sign of the
professor.

Eventually, the authorities began to arrive.

---

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