Fragmentation Read online

  FRAGMENTATION

  Gregg Cameron

  AuthorHouse™

  1663 Liberty Drive

  Bloomington, IN 47403

  www.authorhouse.com

  Phone: 1-800-839-8640

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  © 2012 by Gregg Cameron

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

  Published by AuthorHouse 1/4/2012

  ISBN: 978-1-4685-1032-4 (sc)

  ISBN: 978-1-4685-1031-7 (hc)

  ISBN: 978-1-4685-1030-0 (e)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2011962226

  Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

  and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

  Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

  Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank my wife, Mary Beth and my two children, Tracey and Jonathan, for allowing me to pilfer time from them to write this book.

  I would also like to thank my long time friend Cathy Balkunow for her efforts in the editing process. She held my feet to the grammatical fire and made this work infinitely more readable.

  Finally, to Mary Beth and Deborah Luedtke for reading early drafts of this work, providing me with their insight and finding many of those niggling little mistakes that creep into books, I am forever grateful.

  Prologue

  Philadelphia Navel Yard, December 10, 1944. Under the direction of Captain William Casey Jr., the Navy is performing a top-secret stealth project using Einstein’s Unified Field Theory, its code name is: Project Bright Star.

  “Captain Casey, I see you are not joining your crew aboard the Aratusa?”

  “Dr. Mellon, I prefer to observe Project Bright Star from the dock area. I have 47 men on board under the command of Ensign Mathews, my first Mate. My job has been convincing the Navy this experiment will work and now I am ready to see it for myself. When will we be ready to proceed?”

  “As soon as all the generators are running and we have full field strength. We should be ready in about 15 minutes.”

  As the generators begin to whine, the magnetic coils start to pulse, slowly at first, then with an increasing frequency. The Aratusa seems to vibrate and the water around the hull looks as if it is boiling. The field strength begins to build. Suddenly, without a warning, there is a blinding flash of blue light and an explosion. Momentarily there is a hole in the water where the Aratusa sat berthed, it quickly closes with a splash and the Aratusa is gone.

  There are cheers among the scientists. The generators slowly wind down as Captain Casey turns to Dr. Mellon and says, “I knew Project Bright Star would work. We have developed something that will change the course of humanity and the war.”

  “Not so fast Captain Casey, we still have to find the Aratusa and safely bring it back and that may prove to be the more difficult part of your experiment. I hope it is in the Norfolk, VA, Navel yard in berth 4-B. Once they confirm its arrival, we can begin the Dimensional Pulse Rephrasing of Frequencies and return the Aratusa and her crew safely to Philadelphia.”

  “Mr. Able, have you confirmed the arrival of the Aratusa yet?”

  “The Aratusa is not in Norfolk Dr. Mellon.”

  “Where is it Mr. Able?”

  “No one knows, sir, but it is not in Norfolk.”

  Chapter 1

  Philadelphia, PA, Farrell Laboratories:

  Friday, June 1, 6:10 PM Present day.

  Metallurgist David Albright sat glued to the screen of his electron microscope on a hot Friday night in June. Much of what he viewed at Farrell Labs was mundane. However, this was different.

  As a droplet of sweat traced its way down his forehead and lodged in his left eyebrow, he mumbled to himself then suddenly blurted out, “George.”

  “What?” George Quinn, senior metallurgist and the only other person still in the lab answered.

  “Where did this sample come from?”

  “Jesus, David, it came from the DeCosta Scrap Yard; an old ship being scrapped by the Navy. “Why?”

  “I think I have a situation here. Take a look at this.”

  “David, you always have a situation. Do you have any idea what time it is? It’s after six David, time to go home.”

  “I know, I know, but there are some peculiar molecules in this sample; things that just don’t belong in metal. It’s as though they are locked in some sort of bond with the iron and nickel molecules. No, no wait; they are more like stuck in between them, kind of jammed into the lattice. That can’t be, can it?”

  “Let me have a look. George walked over to David’s desk and studied the screen. “Okay. Organic molecules and – possibly a DNA helix.” He looked up at David. “I’m no expert when it comes to organic chemistry. Maybe a rat fell into the crucible when they were making the alloy. Anyway, it’s Friday night, it’s late and I’m going home.”

  “But George, a rat w
ould have been incinerated and completely vaporized, if it fell into the molten metal.”

  “Vaporized it is then. Our job is to report on what we find, not to decide how it happened. I’m leaving and you should too.” As George locked up his desk, David returned his attention to the screen.

  “David, you’ve got to get a life,” said George as he headed for the door. “Don’t forget to lock up. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  David continued to study the sample. The strange molecular structure of the sample made no sense. How could organic molecules be intertwined with the steel molecules of an old ship?

  After twenty minutes of rubbing his eyes and looking at the sample, David began to tire. Maybe George was right. Maybe he should get a life.

  Reluctantly, he gathered up his things, closed up the lab and walked out the door. The sultry Philadelphia evening hit him in the face. A layer of still humid air covered the entire town like a blanket. His car stood like a lonely sentinel in an otherwise empty parking lot. He stared at it for a moment, slid inside, started the motor and turned the air conditioning on full blast

  “Get a life.” That’s what George said. The words weighed on him as he put the car in gear. At thirty years of age, work had become David’s mistress. Although not as exciting as the opposite sex, it satisfied him in other ways. Not quite six feet tall, with his sandy brown hair, many women had found David attractive. He remained oblivious to it. A self-described nerd, he graduated in the top ten percent of his class from Georgia Tech. After a brief stint at Ford Motor Company in Atlanta, he moved on to Philadelphia and Farrell Labs.

  As he flowed with the evening traffic, George’s “Get a life” brought his thoughts to Colleen Gilmore. Colleen, who worked in the Biology Department at Farrell, was twenty-eight, single and as Irish as they come with red hair and freckles. David smiled thinking of her. They met over drinks at the office Christmas party six months ago and hit it off well. He thought about calling her, but every time he worked up the courage, something came up. Then, too, he worried she might turn him down.

  Driving along the Delaware River he thought once again of the puzzling sample. Maybe Colleen would know something about it. Just the reason he needed to give her a call.

  Now, after sipping a Coke and staring at the walls in his apartment for another twenty minutes, he finally sweated up the nerve and dialed her number.

  “Hello.”

  “Colleen, this is David, I mean David Albright. I work in the Metals Lab at Farrell.” Pause. “We met at the Christmas party.”

  “Oh yes, David Albright. Hello.”

  “I was wondering if you had some time to look at a very interesting sample of metal I have.”

  “A sample of metal? Is this a joke, David? It’s Friday night.”

  “Well no,” he stammered, “it’s not a joke.”

  “Well David, I’m a biologist. I know nothing about metals.”

  “This sample is very interesting Colleen and it is not just metal.” This is not going very well, thought David.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  Tentatively he replied, “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

  “No I haven’t. David, are you asking me out to dinner?”

  “Well no, not really, I mean - I yes, yes I am. You see, I have this piece of metal.”

  “You already mentioned the metal David.”

  “Yes, but I believe it has some organic molecules in it and they are trapped between the inorganic ones kind of in the lattice and I thought you might be able to help me out on this.” fumbled David.

  Colleen rolled her eyes and said, “Lets back up a bit, did you or did you not just ask me out to dinner?”

  “Yes, yes I did.”

  “Good, that sounds nice. Now, where and what time?”

  “Well, I, that is, if you like Italian food, I thought we might try Florintino’s. Would that be okay?”

  “I love Italian food. What time do you want me to meet you there?”

  “Would eight o’clock be okay?”

  “Yes David, I’ll see you at Florintino’s at eight tonight. It is tonight isn’t it?”

  “Yes, tonight, I’ll see you later, thank you.”

  “Yes!” whooped David when he hung up the phone. For months, he had agonized about asking Colleen out. Now they were going to have dinner and it was all because of a curious piece of metal. Maybe he could “get a life”.

  Chapter 2

  The restaurant was about eight miles from David’s apartment and with a little speeding; he was able to make it there with a few minutes to spare. Florintino’s was a typical Italian restaurant found in the northeast. As you enter, the sweet smell of garlic and soft mandolin music teased your senses. A small bar with a half dozen stools catered to those waiting for tables. Hand painted murals of Italian scenery covered the walls while red linen tablecloths and white napkins complimented the plates and silverware. Lighting was subdued, with a soft orange hue giving the room a Mediterranean ambiance.

  Florintino’s was always busy on Friday nights and they did not take reservations, so David put his name in with the host and found a seat at the bar.

  Within ten minutes, Colleen entered the restaurant and scanned the crowd for David. His skin flushed with excitement when their eyes met and he waved her over to the bar. As she walked toward him in heels and a light blue knee length summer dress her hips gently swayed while her red hair bounced softly off her shoulders. Somehow, she seemed even more attractive than he remembered.

  “David, I’m sorry I’m late, but there was some kind of utility work going on in the middle of Ben Franklin Boulevard and it was closed. With all the one-way streets over there, I think I wound up going around the same block at least three times before finding my way here. Anyway, I’m glad that you asked me.”

  “You are?” sputtered David, “I mean I’m glad you could come. Would you like a drink?”

  “Yes, a glass of Chardonnay would be fine.”

  As David ordered two glasses, she inquired, “Now, what’s all this about an unusual piece of metal?”

  “Well, today I was doing a routine alloy check on some samples of steel from an old ship for the De Costa Scrap Yard, you know, that big place over on the south side of town. Just the sort of normal boring stuff we do every day. What I found was anything but normal, which is one of the reasons I called you. Colleen, these samples of steel normally contain iron, carbon, nickel and a trace of several other compounds in varying amounts. This sample contained all the normal stuff along with what I thought were the molecules of organic compounds. These molecules were not actually a part of the metal itself, but rather, they are somehow locked in between the steel molecules, not a part of them, but just kind of next to and all around them. Actually they are kind of stuck in the steel molecular lattice.”

  “David, I’m not exactly sure that’s possible, because of the heat required to smelt the steel. At those temperatures, the organic molecules would be destroyed or at the least broken down into atoms and not recognizable for what they originally were.”

  “That’s just what’s so confusing about this. They do appear to be whole and I’m sure, recognizable molecules of something organic. It is almost as if they were squeezed in after the metal was made, if that is possible.”

  “That would indeed be difficult to do, more like impossible. Do you want me to look at them?”

  “Yes, could you?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m glad you could come tonight. I know it was on kind of a short notice, but it was late in the day when I discovered this and I immediately thought of you.”

  “You immediately thought of me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that the only reason you asked me?”

  “Well no, not exactly. I’ve wanted to ask you out ever s
ince we met at the Christmas party.”

  “Why didn’t you then?

  “Well, I don’t know, it just took a while and I thought you probably had plenty of dates.”

  “David, I am glad you asked me and I don’t always have plenty of dates. In fact, I haven’t been out on one in a while.”

  The host called David’s name and escorted them to a small table in the corner. They each ordered a second glass of wine.

  “So David, tell me a little about yourself. You’re not from this area are you? I mean, you seem to have a southern accent, but I can’t quite place it.”

  “I’m from Georgia, a suburb of Atlanta called Alpharetta. My parents moved there from Michigan before I was born. I guess I have a cross between a Southern and a mid-western accent. I will say ‘Ya’ll,’ and ‘You bet,’ as well. I went to Milton High School and then to Georgia Tech. I am a dyed in the wool Techie and hate the Bulldogs, the University of Georgia that is, in a good-natured way. I was on the swim team in high school and at Georgia Tech during all four years. After graduation, I worked for the Ford Motor Corporation at their plant in Georgia for almost a year and then took the position I have at Farrell Laboratories here in Philadelphia.

  “I’ve never heard of Alpharetta. What is it like?”

  “Well, when I was growing up it was mostly a rural area, with lots of farms and horses. Now, Alpharetta is very cosmopolitan with plenty of upscale restaurants and expensive homes. It is really a rather posh bedroom community. The biggest changes happened in the last ten years, mostly after I left.”

  Colleen had taken the lead in the conversation and David began to feel more comfortable with her.

  “Are you from Philadelphia?” David asked.

  “No, I’m from a small New Jersey town called Union.”

  “Yes, Union City, I’ve heard of that, it’s up near New York, isn’t it?”

  “Oh no, not Union City, that’s a large old blue collar place in Northern Jersey. Union, is a small town of about thirty thousand people, near Elizabeth and more in central Jersey. The two towns are really like night and day.”