From: Jason Eric Dzembo Date: Sun, 12 Sep 1993 12:08:54 -0400 Message-Id: <9309121608.AA22363@localhost> Even as he blinked, adjusting to the sudden bright lights, the murmur of awed and curious voices reached his ears. He shaded his eyes and glanced around. A large room, packed with people, mostly reporters from the looks of the audio and visual equipment they carried. A man in a dark suit stood in a narrow aisle directly in front of the table at which Sam was sitting. He was holding a microphone in front of the reporter beside him. Everyone was looking at Sam curiously, much the way vultures watch desert wanderers who've used up their supply of water. "Uh...I'm sorry." Sam spoke into his own microphone uncertainly. "Could you please repeat the question?" The hum of voices rose slightly in annoyance. Apparently they felt he was dodging the issue, whatever the issue was. The reporter grinned toothily and replied, "Certainly, Mr. VanOrder. I was wondering, like many of us here, why you've suddenly decided to donate your entire fortune...." He checked his notes and continued, "...an amount totalling nearly two point four billion dollars, to a heretofore unheard of government project. If you could, please tell us, just how would the general public benefit from this Project Quantum Leap?" Sam's jaw dropped and he rubbed his forehead wearily. "Oh, boy." The Last Minute December 31, 2000 By: Jason E. Dzembo "Mr. VanOrder?" the reporter insisted, "Are you going to answer the question?" "Uh, yes, well. While it's true the general public has little or no knowledge of Project Quantum Leap, the benefits it will have will be incredible, and are just too numerous to mention." "That may be, sir," the reporter said, "but, I must question the validity of these so-called benefits. How can the changes be proven if no one remembers what originally happened?" He paused dramatically and announced, "Sir, I say that Project Quantum Leap is the biggest hoax this country has seen this decade, and I think we all have to wonder just why you're so eager to become a part of it." There was a faint beeping sound, like a watch alarm going off. Someone stood up from the back of the room and slipped unnoticed out the far door. Sam was irked by the man's doubt and by his tone. He said firmly, "I believe in Project Quantum Leap. I believe that changes can be made to history the way the Project suggests." He held up a finger to forestall the reporter's protest. "No, you're right. It will be difficult to prove the changes have occurred. Once I - that is, once Dr. Beckett has altered history, the original timeline will be forgotten except, perhaps, by Dr. Beckett himself and by the Project Observer. Some things just need to be taken on faith. And this is one of them." "Faith, Mr. VanOrder?" the reporter repeated with a sneer. "Sir, I find it difficult to believe that you're willing to stake your entire fortune on faith. I think-" "I'm afraid that's all the time Mr. VanOrder has at the moment." the man in the dark suit interrupted, taking the microphone away from the reporter. "We thank you all for coming." Ignoring the calls and questions from the crowd, he walked purposely towards the podium where Sam was standing, and, taking Sam by the elbow, he guided him towards an exit separated from the reporters' area by a red velvet rope. "I apologize for cutting the conference short, sir," the man whispered to Sam as they left the room, "Wilson at the front gate has informed me that Admiral Calavicci has been called back to Project Headquarters. Dr. Beckett has leaped again." Sam noticed belatedly that the man had a microscopic headphone plugged into one ear, a wire trailing to a radio attached to his belt. Evidently a security man. "I understand." Sam replied, gravely. "I'm pleased to see the Project behaving so responsibly. It makes me feel my money is going to a secure investment." "Yes, sir." the man agreed, noncommittally. He evidently held the same opinions as many of the people in the conference room, but was too well-trained, or well-mannered, to say so. Once in the hall, the security man released Sam's arm and made a cursory search of the area, apparently satisfying himself that no reporters had tried to sneak in to harass his employer. "I'll be in the monitor room if you need anything, sir." He turned and walked purposely back through the door they had just exited. Sam stood for a moment and marveled at his surroundings. The hall was huge, done up in marble and crystal, silver and onyx. A very wealthy and modern design. A regal stairway dominated the majority of the hall and doorways exited in too many directions to count in a glance. A gilt-edged mirror hung on a nearby wall. The image that looked back at Sam was that of an elderly man, thin without being frail, with a shock of white hair and piercing ice-blue eyes. He looked entirely the elderly businessman, and evidently a successful one if he had billions of dollars to donate to the Project. The Project. Sam couldn't believe it. He couldn't remember anyone by the name of VanOrder being involved with the Project during its inception, but it was possible that was due to his Swiss cheesed memory. "Oh! There you are, Father." The voice startled Sam out of his revelry and he turned to see an attractive woman in her mid-forties approaching him. "I was just coming to look for you. Why aren't you lying down? Dr. Ulrich gave you specific orders to relax as much as you could today. That press conference was worse than you anticipated. Those damned reporters were determined to make a mockery of you." Her face clouded over and she added, "Not that I can blame them. I still think you're making a big mistake. A minor donation, I could understand, but to donate your entire fortune..." She trailed off, shaking her head. Evidently they'd had this conversation too many times already. "I can understand why you'd feel that way." Sam said, wondering if it would be advisable to tell the woman how wrong she was to disbelieve in Project Quantum Leap. "But the Project is not a hoax." With undetected irony, he added, "Believe me, it's anything but. It's a worthy cause." "I can't make your decisions for you, Dad. I wish you'd reconsider, though." She shook herself, and said in a lighter tone, "Now you'd better go lie down." "Okay." Sam agreed, readily. Until Al showed up, he wanted to have as little contact with anyone as he could. Too often before he'd made matters worse, changing history inadvertently because he wasn't well enough informed. The woman kissed him on the cheek and gave him a regretful smile before heading off. After a moment, Sam headed up the stairs assuming the bedrooms would be on the upper floor. Catching a whiff of a cigar smoke tinged with memories, Sam stopped at the landing and looked behind him. Behind him, Al was walking up the steps at a leisurely pace. "Dr. Beckett, I presume?" he asked casually. Sam grinned and asked, "Who else?" Al replied, "Well, to everyone else, you're Marcus S. VanOrder III, a billionaire who made his fortune investing in little known government projects." "Projects like ours." Sam agreed, "Although I can't see why a billionaire would invest his entire fortune in Project Quantum Leap, especially considering the fact that there's little if any room for profit." He shrugged and said, "He must have decided against it anyway, since I don't remember him." He beamed and said, "Hey, maybe I'm here to make sure that he does donate his money to the project...." "Sam." Al said softly. "With the extra funding, I bet we could have the Accelerator running properly when I try to use it so I wouldn't be stuck bouncing around like this!" "Sam." Al repeated. "Maybe I won't even need to test it until it's ready, since we'll have the additional funding to make up for the government cuts." Sam was getting excited. "Sam, slow down." Al said more firmly. Sam glanced at him and frowned and said, "Of course, if that happened, we'd be dabbling in paradox and..." "Sam." Al said sharply. Sam stopped and looked at Al curiously. In a more relaxed tone, Al continued, "it's too late to prevent you from leaping. You started that five years ago." He watched Sam carefully. A moment later, Sam's jaw dropped. Al extended a hand and grinned. "Welcome to the present, pal. December 31, 2000." Hesitantly, Sam extended his hand. Rather than pass through each other, the two hands met in a firm handshake, which abruptly turned into a eager hug of recognition. _______________________________ Sam and Al sat in Marcus VanOrder's bedroom, bouncing theories off of one another. "How about this?" Sam asked, "My lifetime is really a dynamic duration. Since I exchange places with the people I leap into, rather than my string ending prematurely at the point where I leaped, the end of my string continues forward as though I was still there, er, here, thus increasing the range of time I can leap into. I've evidently leaped to the very end of my string." "But how do you explain the fact that you leaped in so close to home?" Al asked, "The Project is only twenty miles west of here." "Very wonderful coincidence." Sam replied. He glanced skyward and added, "Or divine providence. Maybe I'm here to fix the retrieval program so that I can get finally get home once and for all." "If that's the case, why didn't you just leap back into your own life?" Al asked. "The way I see it," Sam said, slowly, thinking it out as he went, "is that when I first leaped, I got separated from my string and ended up traveling along the infinite number of intersections of other people's strings until, now, I'm so far from where I started that I can't get directly back from here. Or maybe it's because of all the tampering and trying we've been doing to retrieve me prematurely over the last four years. Maybe Marcus VanOrder was just as close to the Project as," Sam gestured upwards, "He could bring me. We have to bring me the rest of the way ourselves." He looked at Al hopefully. Al considered and said, doubtfully, "It's possible." He pointed the handlink at Sam like a television remote and said, with a note of warning in his voice, "But you know, Sam, you could be here for something else entirely." "What does Ziggy say?" Sam challenged. "Nothing. Since you've caught right up with us, he can only project what the original history would have been if you hadn't leaped in and, from that, he has to abstract it further to figure out what the most likely problem with the future is which you are in a position to fix. He's estimating hours still before he can make a reasonable guess." Al explained. "I can wait." Sam said. He rested his hands on his knees, leaning forward. "Why don't we go back to the Project and work on the retrieval program in the meantime." Al shook his head slowly and said, "I don't think that's a good idea, Sam. We're dealing with more uncertainty here than usual. You may be here to do something that has no connection whatsoever with the Project." "I could help speed Ziggy up so we can have a projection sooner." Sam suggested. "You'll probably spend most of your time catching up on the last five years with Gooshie and Verbeena and Do-" Al stopped abruptly and a look of something very close to horror crossed his face. "No." he said, firmly. "You can not go to the Project." Noticing Sam's surprise at his sudden decisiveness, Al added, "At least not until Ziggy makes his projection. Then, if it doesn't seem like it'll have a negative impact, we'll see." Sam frowned, dissatisfied, but forced to admit there was logic to Al's approach. He didn't know that Al's true motive was to give himself time to get Donna Eleesi, Sam's forgotten wife, as far out of Sam's reach as he could. He just hoped she wouldn't put up too much of a fight. ___________________________________