“Five minutes until jump,” announced Dr. Yumi Ogawa. Her research assistant Kenji Sato moved with excited anticipation across the room. He nodded in acknowledgment as he shuffled across with a box in hand. Their lab, a relatively small facility overflowing with computers and test equipment, barely accommodated the both of them.
"Kenji," Dr. Ogawa called out, her gaze fixed on a series of screens displaying complex data, "how are the final firmware updates to the probe coming along?"
"I've completed them," Kenji replied, pointing to a small, spherical device resting on a workbench sitting in the lab’s corner. "It'll be ready to go into the isolation room in just a few seconds."
Along one wall of the rectangular lab was a large glass window. On the other side was the isolation room Kenji mentioned. It was the space dedicated to their experiment for today. Dr. Ogawa’s workstation was facing this window. She was wearing a stereotypical, long-sleeved, white lab coat. The coat was long enough that her gray pants were barely showing below. Her pants were tucked into her sporty steel-toed sneakers.
Dr. Ogawa nodded in approval, her eyes briefly meeting Kenji's. The two were highly focused on their particular tasks but very communicative and in sync. She finished the data entry for this experiment on her computer and closed the window showing her Hokkaido University Xenobiology Department wallpaper.
"Let's make sure we get the probe in there ahead of time," Dr. Ogawa said, her head tilting slightly in concern. "No repeats of last time. No noxious atmospheres returned this time."
“I find this method of sending our probe through a time-only jump more restricting than I expected,” Kenji retorted, frustration evident in his voice.
Dr. Ogawa turned to face him fully, eyebrows raised, but grinning slightly. "Do you have a source of funding I don't know about to pay for the added energy cost of pushing the probe through a space-time adjustment?" she asked sarcastically. "We're already relying on a partnership with the Physics and Astronomy Department for these jumps. Remember, the most cost-effective characteristics of a jump are moving only through time and minimizing the diameter of the jump sphere."
Kenji moved his gaze toward the floor. His eyes rose to look at her. A subtle nod.
Dr. Ogawa's face relaxed. "On that topic, Kenji, how are you coming along with my assignment. Is your algorithm for mapping space-time making progress?"
Kenji took a breath, shame still present in his posture. "It's going slowly. I'm still having a difficult time wrapping my head around how to best model two independently moving objects across time."
Dr. Ogawa got up from her chair and walked over to the whiteboard to grab a marker. Kenji stepped aside. Dr. Ogawa’s status as the founder of the university’s Temporal Xenobiology department was intimidating enough, but she was also taller than him too.
She drew two large circles, one on the left side of the board and one on the right. "The circle on the right represents our galaxy today. The circle on the left is our galaxy in the past." She drew a horizontal arrow starting at the center of the left circle and pointing to the right. "The galaxy in the past is moving through space to where we are today." She then drew another circle at the end of the arrow. “This is where our galaxy is in the universe today. Dr. Ogawa then traced a curving arrow clockwise around the left circle. "Our galaxy today has also rotated from its orientation in the past."
She marked a blue dot on the bottom left of the past galaxy. "Earth’s Sun was here in the past." She added another blue dot to the bottom right of the present galaxy. "And it is here today. The further we go back in time, the more the galaxy has moved. The Sun also moves up and down and toward and away from the center, but I want you to start simpler for now."
Turning to face Kenji, she squinted and smiled. "I need you to practice making your own algorithm to map where our probe ends up if we open a jump point from one point in time to another with just that in mind. You'll see how different your results will be from mine. As you add more complexity, our models will start to give more similar results."
She continued, "Later, we can add Earth's orbital position, rotation, and space-time distortion from gravitational bodies to see how this improves the accuracy of your jump results and I won’t be telling you that you jumped our probe into the host planet's star like I used to. Once you can avoid jumping our probe into another sun, we can work on getting closer to planets." She chuckled.
Kenji's eyes widened. "Seriously? You’ve lost probes in stars before? What did you receive in return?"
Dr. Ogawa responded with a little tilt of the head. "That’s why I gave you such a lecture about flammable material in the isolation chamber during your orientation. I've accidentally brought back all sorts of planetary and stellar matter through the transceiver. You've seen only a few recent jumps, after I’ve gotten better at this. I haven’t always had such precise algorithms.” She began walking back to her control station. “The one-to-one transfer of matter between the two points in space-time can be eventful sometimes. You’ve always seen us bring back the probe in a vacuum fortunately.”
“I kind of want to see us bring back a chunk of sun.” He said.
“Please, let’s not.” She replied. “The damage star material does to the lab is dramatic. The clean up is horrendous. Plus, I only have a couple spare portals left before the next funding cycle.”
Kenji nodded, his understanding growing. "Before I mastered positioning the jump near a planet, I often ended up bringing back pieces of the planet itself. Do you know where the probe was then?"
He looked up thoughtfully, then met her gaze with a grin. "Inside the planet?"
"Exactly," Dr. Ogawa affirmed. "I essentially hollowed out a ball of rock from underground and sent the probe inside." She grimaced. "The data from jumps like that weren't very informative for us, but the geology department found it interesting. Saved them some money as well." She grimaced.
She raised her hand toward Kenji. "We can go over your calculations later. For now, go mount the probe in the isolation chamber, then join me in the control room. We have barely two minutes left."
Kenji donned white cotton gloves and gently picked up the small probe. Roughly spherical and about an inch in diameter, its surface was metallic, dotted with many small cavities. These housed tiny sensors, each meticulously designed to scan planets for signs of biological activity. While most were optical, scanning from a distance in space, Dr. Ogawa occasionally attempted atmospheric entries. For those missions, some optical sensors were swapped for molecule detectors to test for gases indicative of metabolic activity—a telltale sign of life.
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"Entering the isolation chamber," Kenji called out to Dr. Ogawa.
She responded with a loud acknowledgment, her focus on the control station for the time portal. In front of her was the viewing window to the isolation chamber, comprising two layers of ballistic glass, a necessary precaution against any potential explosions resulting from the jump. Time portals, after all, could be unpredictable, sometimes bringing back dangerous surprises.
Through the window, Dr. Ogawa watched Kenji walk the probe to the holding apparatus. Mounted from the ceiling, the simple contraption resembled an upside-down tripod, with three metal rods extending downwards and ending in small hooks. The probe, designed with three integrated hoops, fit perfectly into these hooks.
Inside the isolation chamber, the thick walls made verbal communication impossible, so Kenji sent an update to Dr. Ogawa via his coglink. She received a message in her vision, the words floating just off to the side, "The probe has been placed in the insertion rig. Firmware version confirmed, and the probe is powered on, standing by for its first readings."
Dr. Ogawa nodded to Kenji across the window of the isolation chamber. Kenji sent another message through his coglink: "I'll be starting the 30-second fuse now."
She nodded again in understanding. This 'fuse' was a crucial circuit that powered down the probe. Upon activation, three mechanical microscopic springs would cause tiny switches to close, turning on the probe's circuits after 30 seconds. The reason for three fuses was simple: redundancy. Electronic circuits could not survive the journey through the time portal, at least not while energized. Thus, pressing the buttons turned off the probe, allowing it to travel through the portal in an off state, then initializing and booting the microcontrollers after completing the jump. Once on the other side, the probe would start collecting data as intended.
Kenji hurried to the door of the isolation chamber and sealed the heavy metal door behind him. Dr. Ogawa's eyes were fixed on a screen displaying a countdown timer.
"17 seconds until the jump," she announced. "Are you going to sit for this one?"
Kenji braced himself, "No, I'm going to enjoy the pulse."
Dr. Ogawa grinned, admiring Kenji's excitement and enthusiasm for their research. It was a glow she missed, having been weighed down by the challenges of their research for several years now.
"5, 4," Dr. Ogawa counted, "3, 2, 1."
Dr. Ogawa pressed a large green button that was adjacent to a large red button enclosed underneath a plastic shield. This initiated the portal transmission sequence. The lights dimmed in the lab and, in fact, everyone on the university campus was now aware of the experiment. Kenji was in charge of registering their scheduled jump and everyone reliant on non-vital electrical equipment were informed that they would experience forced interruption of their power. Just the nature of being a student at Hokkaido University.
The portal, powered by a dedicated supply from a nearby building filled with advanced supercapacitors, required a massive energy surge to activate its core – the graviton generator. This energy was massively sourced from the campus's renewable energy reserves. Every time they send a probe, they effectively drain the surplus energy storage. This, just to send a probe the size of an oversized golf ball.
Inside the ring of the portal, a sphere of shimmering white particles began to materialize around the probe. The surface formed a distinct, single layer, creating a perfect spherical shell. Kenji could see the particles moving in straight lines along the surface of this invisible boundary, their random directions creating a mesmerizing display. Behind the streaks of white, the probe was just barely visible.
Kenji was always intrigued by the appearance of a small black point at the center of the sphere, a curious shadow that seemed to hover in front, flattening the probe into a two-dimensional silhouette against the swirling particles. He always tried to change his point of view by standing in a different part of the lab. No matter what, it always created the same two-dimensional effect from his perspective. The dark ball rapidly expanded, engulfing the entire space within the sphere. In an instant, the sphere collapsed, leaving only a faint glow on the metal pins inside the portal’s ring. Right at the end of the sequence, he always saw a faint sphere sort of pop. Like seeing a soap bubble burst but you missed the moment when it was intact and peeling away. Just the particles of liquid afterwards. He imagined this was the return sphere sending any material in the same volume at the location of space-time they sent the probe. Once again Dr. Ogawa’s algorithm must have succeeded in sending the probe into the vacuum of space.
Kenji, anticipating the subtle gravitational pull from the jump sequence, had braced himself against a handrail near the window of the chamber. The thrill of the moment lit up his face like a child enjoying being pushed high on a swing.
In contrast, Dr. Ogawa tightened her grip on the arms of her chair, a subtle mix of anticipation and apprehension flickering across her face. She leaned forward, her eyes intently scanning the myriad of readouts on the equipment before her. Energy levels, graviton flux, heat levels. Her eyes never wavered from any point on the screen. To her, the window to the isolation chamber didn’t exist even though that was where the action was. Data meant everything to her. The entire spectacle occurred in less than two seconds.
Dr. Ogawa relaxed as if having held her breath for a minute. She fell back in her chair, relaxed.
She watched the timer count upward: 1…2…3… Her hand hovered over a large yellow button labeled “Temporal Anchor Recall”. Timing was critical. Based on where the algorithm aimed to place the probe, she and Kenji estimated the probe could stay on the other side for around 25 seconds and still be retrievable. The probe would still succumb to the gravity of the planet and begin to fall away from the point in space they had sent it.
“I topped off the probes hovering well this time. The probe should be able to stay put for at least the 25 seconds we estimate even at maximum thrust.” Kenji assured. He could see that Dr. Ogawa was counting every second as if they had seconds inside themselves.
Kenji took a breath to respond, but Dr. Ogawa put up a finger to stop him.
“19…20…21” Dr. Ogawa’s hand moved closer, lightly resting on the recall button.
“22”
Dr. Ogawa and Kenji both jumped. Startled by a loud static in the room. Dr. Ogawa hand prematurely pressed the recall button. The return sequence of the portal began.
Caught off guard by the blaring static, Kenji dropped to a crouch, his mind racing for a solution.
Dr. Ogawa resisted any additional reaction to the sound. The volume was intense. She cringed and tilted her head as if to turn her ear away from the source, but there was no effect. She maintained focus on the final readings of the probe's return. As soon as she confirmed the sequence complete she pushed away from the desk and turned away from her workstation in frustration.
“What the hell is that?” she yelled, pressing her fingers into her ears. Her fingers also brought no relief and she quickly realized that the noise was coming from her coglink. The noise was being sent to her brain. Her auditory cortex to be exact. It was tricking her into thinking she was being bombarded by a cacophony of irritating buzzes, scratching and random tones. It persisted and became unbearable very quickly.
Kenji accessed the audio channels of his coglink. One of the emergency bands used to alert citizens of danger was highlighted as active. He quickly muted the channel and basked in his relief from the auditory onslaught.
“Mute emergency band 3 on your coglink!” Kenji yelled to Dr. Ogawa. A naïve observer would think it rude that Kenji was yelling at her in a room that was actually quiet despite the activity. He knew the coglink would give the emergency channel volume priority in her brain so he accounted for that.
Still having a pained look on her face, Dr. Ogawa quickly nodded. Kenji could see the moment that she successfully silenced the channel as she rolled her eyes in relief.
“Check the probe’s status.” Dr. Ogawa said, pointing at a second workstation next to hers.
Kenji stumbled up off the floor and walked over to the probe data station. He squinted to read the data. "We got the scan,” Kenji announced, a wave of relief washing over him as he stood upright, hands on hips, allowing himself a moment of pride amidst the chaos. “It looks like we got less than we would like but it’s there.”
Dr. Ogawa’s expression relaxed with a slight smile. “I’m glad that noise wasn’t any sooner. That scared the crap out of me. Someone must have messed up at the emergency broadcast center. I’m sure they’re going to be looking for another job tomorrow.”
Just then the hallway door to the lab slammed open. It was Dr. Endo, the department chair for the biology department. “What the hell are you guys doing! The campus is in chaos out there and everyone is assuming it was you!”