Page 118 of The Paradox Club

“You two shut up,” he said. “Pilgrim 3 doesn’t give a good goddamn what’s playing on that radio and neither do I.”

But at that moment—when Pilgrim 3 was still turned away from Tess and the circle and when Anderson Tait still stood in front of his camera adjusting the lens—the argument about which Mozart piano concerto emanated from the radio became moot. The music turned to static—a static unlike anything any of them had ever heard, except Vivian. She knew exactly what that static meant and saw that Tess had been right in her assumption. Once again, Harry was running the show.

The radio crackled with all the subtlety of a thunderstorm, emitting a roar that caused Tait to cover his ears and Montag 5 to release his grip on Vivian and Richard. Pilgrim 3 whirled around to see the entire circle glowing in a greenish light so bright she could hardly make out Tess standing at its center. This couldn’t be it, she thought. They still had eight minutes to go. And as that thought formed in her head, Tess disappeared.

Pilgrim 3 shrieked and dashed toward the circle and its unearthly glow as the three UFOs she had so carefully arranged followed Tess into apparent nothingness, along with the radio. The circle was only a few feet away and the portal would be open for thirty-seven seconds, according to Tess. But now, Pilgrim 3 doubted everything Tess had told her. Obviously, she could be inside the circle when the alignment arrived. Tess hadn’t caught fire like Harry Maxwell had; she had simply slipped into the other universe. So, she had lied about that. But how did she know the alignment would come eight minutes early?

Vivian would explain it to Richard afterward. “Harry kept precise time here on Maxwell’s Island,” she said. “But the phrase precise time didn’t mean the same thing to Harry as it did to most people. The longitude of Maxwell’s Island is eighty-seven degrees and fifty-nine minutes. Harry reasoned that when it was noon at ninety degrees longitude, where Central Time was calculated, it was twelve oh eight and four seconds on Maxwell’s Island.”

“And since he assumed he’d always experience the alignments on Maxwell’s Island,” said Richard, “his calculations were all in Maxwell’s Island time, just over eight minutes ahead of Central Time.”

Her right hand was the first part of Pilgrim 3 to enter the circle. She felt a sharp pain radiating up her arm, but she had neither the time nor the inclination to consider its implications. What was a little pain compared to scientific immortality? As she hurled her body past the burnt tree stumps, the circle still glowed as brightly as ever, and to those watching she took on the green hue of that otherworldly light. She had made it, she thought. Any second now she’d be looking into another universe. Her entire body stung with pain, but she didn’t care. She dove toward the spot where Tess, the radio, and the Maxwell’s Island UFOs had stood seconds earlier, but it felt as if her body hit a brick wall. She hadn’t landed on the ground but merely bounced back upright. She tried again with the same result. Barely able to stand, she stepped more gingerly toward the spot for her third attempt. As she reached with her foot toward the place where she could see the indentation in the dirt made by the vanished radio, an unseen force threw her to the ground, where she lay burning with pain and firmly in the universe she had occupied for her entire life.

The green light exploded in a flash of brightness and the pillars of pine tree stumps flared like candles for a few seconds before the circle was plunged back into darkness.

“That was nowhere near thirty-seven seconds,” said Montag 5.

“I guess Tess wasn’t as good at math as she thought,” said Richard, doing his best to hide his smile.

“But Pilgrim 3 got there in time,” said Montag 5. “She made it to the circle before the portal closed. Why didn’t she cross over?”

Pilgrim 3 still lay, moaning, in the center of the circle. Wisps of smoke curled up from the charred remains of Harry Maxwell’s circle of trees, but this time the fire had lasted only a second and had been confined to the circle.

“Maybe that universe doesn’t want her any more than this one does,” said Vivian.

“You’re a member of the Paradox Club, aren’t you, Montag 5?” said Richard.

“You know I am,” said Montag 5.

“Then as your president, I’m ordering you to help the ex–keeper of the vault, Pilgrim 3, into the boat. I’ll take the first group over and be back to get you two in a bit.”

Montag 5 sighed deeply and obeyed his president.

In the canoe on the way to the boat landing, Richard turned to Anderson Tait.

“Listen, Mr. Tait,” said Richard. “How would you like to become a member of a secret scientific society based right in the middle of New York City? You wouldn’t be allowed to write about the society’s work or disclose its existence or raison d’être, but you’d have access to some of the top scientific minds on the planet in your fellow members.”

“Why do I sense that there is a quid pro quo involved in this offer?”

“Because there is.”

“And what do you want me to do in return for my membership in your secret society?”

“Bury this story.”

“Listen, Mr. Pollard, I’m not even sure what this story is. A woman I’ve met maybe twice in my life phones me up to say she’s on the brink of the greatest scientific breakthrough in history. Then, instead of taking me to CERN or some other likely spot for a leap forward in human knowledge, she drags me to this remote island in the wilds of Wisconsin. I see—I don’t know what I saw—a green light, a lightning strike, a fire, all of the above. I do think I saw a rainbow above that circle of tree stumps, but that was probably your green light refracting in the mist. Anyhow, when it was over and my eyes readjusted to the moonlight, all that’s happened as far as I can tell is she’s incinerated a couple of old books and an antique radio, and a girl has disappeared with a piece of jewelry. All the patter about parallel universes and portals and math—that was entertaining. But as far as the actual trick is concerned—I’ve seen more impressive shows on the Vegas Strip. This is hardly a story for the National Enquirer, much less Scientific American.”

“Then we understand each other,” said Richard.

“I suppose we do.”

AT THE PARADOX CLUB (IN UNIVERSE B)

As the story made its way in whispered conversations around the halls of the Paradox Club, many members expressed to the president, who had returned from his self-imposed exile in Florida, the opinion that Pilgrim 3 should be ejected from the club, but the president defended her right to remain a member. Her removal as keeper of the vault, however, was approved by unanimous vote at the next general meeting, and Calvin 4 appointed a young member named Valentine 6 to succeed her. Physically, Pilgrim 3 had recovered quickly from her ordeal; psychologically, Calvin 4 wasn’t sure she’d ever recover. She rarely entered the halls of the Paradox Club and eventually moved to Spain, where, rumor has it, she is writing a novel about her experiences. The Paradox Club has enough sway within the publishing industry that it will never see the light of day.

Montag 5 had no qualms about shifting his loyalty to those who held the most power, and following the demotion of Pilgrim 3, that clearly meant President Calvin 4. He served the president loyally as did Lidenbrock 2, though neither ever achieved positions of significant responsibility within the club. As for Ardan 1, after a decade of absence, she began to frequent the club again.

Though delayed, the retirement of Calvin 4 did eventually come to pass, and the candidate the outgoing president endorsed received the overwhelming support of the membership. Nemo 7 would serve as president of the Paradox Club for the next twenty-two years.