Ultraviolet Catastrophe - Page 37/71

He sighed and opened the official project simulation on his computer. “Okay, enough of my self-pity. Let’s run some numbers,” he said, cracking his knuckles.

Our fingers flew over the keys as we inputted the numbers and formula. Asher started with Avery’s original while I entered my changed calculations. The sound of keyboards tapping filled the warehouse as we worked to verify my results.

Beside me, Asher’s long fingers flew over the keys, his eyebrows furrowed. Even though I was still slightly annoyed, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Even when I had a non-existent relationship with my own dad, I had never doubted he loved me. I could only imagine how much worse it would be to not even have him care.

“Done,” Asher said, dropping his hands into his lap.

I finished typing the last string of the formula into my simulation and nodded. “Me too.” I paused and turned to him. “What happens if I’m right?”

He leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “You get a big fat award for stopping the experiment from killing us all. And my eternal gratitude of course.”

“Of course.”

“Okay, let’s do mine first. This is Avery’s original equation.” He hit the submit button. Together we watched as the simulation ran perfectly — the machine generated the wormhole and worked as we’d expected it to.

I frowned at the monitor. “But it was supposed to fail like it did in your office. How could it pass? Is our simulation wrong?”

Asher shook his head, looking as confused as I felt. “I don’t think so. I reviewed all their work, and it seemed sound to me.” He slipped a USB drive into the computer and copied off a couple of files. “We’ll take this upstairs to compare it when we’re done here. Let’s run your numbers now.”

I clicked the submit button and ran the simulation again, this time on my machine.

The program ran perfectly.

I stared at Asher. “Um…what does that mean? There should be some difference in the results, right?”

Asher’s jaw clenched. “There should be. Yes. Try it again.”

I reset the numbers and started the simulation again. We both watched as the machine built the wormhole successfully.

“How is that possible? It can’t have the same results with different numbers.”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck “I just don’t understand it.”

Behind us, a metallic voice announced, “Welcome, Dr. Danvers.”

“Shit.” Asher hit several buttons on my computer, and the screen went black just as she walked into the warehouse.

Dr. Danvers paused, her eyebrows coming together as she spotted us at the computers. “Asher? Lexie? What are you two doing here?”

Asher straightened, shoulders relaxed and a smile on his lips. He was back to playing his part as project lead without missing a beat. “Just running some calculations through the simulation. I figured we’d do it today while we wouldn’t be in the way. I think Dr. Avery and his team are down in Division Ten if you were looking for them.”

Her gaze flicked between us and then to the computers behind us. “That’s right,” she said, moving toward Asher’s computer. “I remember now. He sent me an email earlier in the week.” She nodded at the monitor. “How is it going? Are the tests running as expected?”

“Of course. Let me show you what we have so far.” Asher ran Avery’s numbers, and once again, everything worked perfectly. I just didn’t understand how.

“You guys are making great progress. And Lexie, I was glad to see you were part of the verification team. How are you feeling about the work?” Danvers asked.

I opened my mouth to tell her what we’d discovered, but behind her, Asher shook his head ever so slightly and I changed my tactics. “It’s been such an amazing experience working on this project. I can’t thank you and Asher enough for giving me this opportunity.” I sounded like a kiss-ass, but she just nodded.

“I’m glad you’re finally feeling like part of the team. Good work here, you two. Now, I need to do some of my own research.” She looked pointedly at the door.

“Oh. Of course.” I slid from my stool, and Asher slipped the USB drive into his pocket. “See you later, Dr. Danvers.”

Back in the hallway, I frowned at Asher. “What was that all about?”

“Not here,” he said. “Let’s get back to the lab.”

Unease settled onto my shoulders. Asher was a QT guy through and through. Not sharing his findings with Danvers was too weird for me to ignore.

Paranoid now, I kept silent as we made our way back to the lab. I couldn’t stop myself from glancing up and down the hallway or trying to tiptoe. QT felt different all of a sudden.

Asher let me enter the lab first and then locked the door behind him.

I pressed my back against one of the computer tables and gripped the edge. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.” Asher started pacing. “Danvers didn’t want us in there. Did you see the look she gave me?”

I nodded. “And what was she doing there herself? She said she already knew Avery and the team would be somewhere else today.” I slid onto a stool and studied the blank computer screen. “Do you think she knows the calculations are wrong?”

Asher stared at me. “Why would you think that?”

“I’m not sure. She just seemed relieved when the simulation ran as expected.”

“I just don’t get it. Danvers has been head of QT for three years. She’s won us some amazing projects and advanced the research here. She’d never jeopardize this project.” Asher shook his head and continued pacing. “But what if it’s Avery? What if he’s trying to pull something?” He stared past me, eyes unfocused. It was kind of creepy. “If he debunked the Einstein-Rosen bridge calculations with his own, he could pretty much write his ticket for Danvers’ job. He’d be famous. Though I’m sure my mom would be here in a heartbeat to fight it.”

“Why would your mom care?”

“Because she’s a Rosen. She’d see someone else taking the lead as a blemish on our name. And, of course, she’d be annoyed someone else moved ahead in the physics world.” His voice dropped, sounded strangled. “Oh my god, was that what her email was about?”

“Do you think we need to tell someone? I bet my dad could help.”