Jack Morgan stepped out of the sleek limousine that pulled in front of the spacious lot of the Powers Corp International complex. For the first time in this history he felt at home.

A serried stretch of stainless steel and glass surrounded him, stabbing at the sky like fine knives. Conveyor walkways and monorails wove in and out of the various domes and spires. Everything, from the manicured hedges to the snowless lawn to the actual buildings, looked new.

"Morning, Mr. Morgan," an attractive lady in her thirties said with a smile. "I'm Sylvia Mornington, one of Mr. Powers' liasons. Come, he's looking forward to meeting you."

Jack followed his escort into the main Powers Corp facility. The interior seemed plush and just as futuristic as the exterior. Executives and technicians bustled about, making their way to their various destinations. They all carried themselves with an alarming degree of pride and pleasure.

Sylvia acknowledged Jack's curiosity. "Powers Corp International is equipped with an extraordinary range of next-generation facilities and staffed by teams of committed personnel, each the best their fields have to offer."

Jack laughed inwardly. They're all brainwashed, I bet.

"He's this way."

Sylvia and Jack entered what appeared to be an empty area, a restricted area. They followed the shiny tile floor to an elevator bay. Sylvia placed her right hand upon a red panel beside the elevator doors and stared into a lens of some sort.

"Palm and retinal scans," a synthesized voice spoke out. "Positive identification confirmed: Mornington, S."

And like that, the elevator doors hissed open and the two stepped inside.

The sixty-story flight to Mr. Powers' offices was smooth, and nearly instantaneous. Sylvia guided Jack down a carpeted corridor to a set of double oak doors. It was as if their very presence was detected before even knocking on the massive doors; they simply broke open to reveal the inner sanctum of Maximillian Powers.

Powers stood behind his marble desk, his back to his new guests. He looked out his tall picture window at the breathtaking view of New York.

"I'd like to cancel the rest of my appointments today, Syliva," he said. "Please offer the President my sincerest apologies."

"Yes, Mr. Powers," Sylvia said. Then she left the office, and the double doors instantly closed behind her.

Jack smiled inwardly. Whatever else he had, Powers had style.

Maximillian Powers finally turned to face Jack. "Mr. Morgan. Good to see you. Please, make yourself comfortable."

The head of Powers Corp International was dapper, a composite of the world's finest and richest bachelors. His wore a tailored suit, most likely an Armani, Versace or Brooks Brothers. The faintest scent of expensive cologne hung in the room. His black hair sported a short, stylish look; his pencil-thin goatee framed his smile.

Powers pressed a secret button on the underside of his desk and the double doors to his office locked with an audible click. "There," he said. "That should insure no disturbances."

Jack paused for a moment, taking in the office and the man. How to start? He couldn't be sure that Powers had already started on time travel research, and the man was unlikely to simply tell him. How to gain the confidence of one of the most powerful men in the world?

"Thanks for taking the time to see me, Mr. Powers," Jack said. "From what I have been able to discover, we have some interests in common, one of them being time travel research." Jack could just imagine his instructors at the academy turning over in their graves. They'd always said he wouldn't win awards for subtlety.

Powers just stared at Jack, but a hint of appreciation twinkled in his eyes. He then nodded.

"Isaac Asimov wrote an interesting introduction in the 1968 reprint of H.G. Wells' The Time Machine. In it he said: 'Even though Wells' explanation of the theory of time travel is faulty, even though he does not give us any explanation of how the machine actually works or the manner in which the Time Traveller managed to build it with only the science of 1895 to help him, the explanation is plausible. It sounds good.' What do you think of this claim, Mr. Morgan?"

"Wells was working with a brand new concept," Jack said, "and with an audience that didn't grow up on the idea of time travel. Faced with presenting an advanced concept to those with more primitive beliefs, he had no choice but to have it 'sound good.' I imagine anyone in a similar situation would do well to emulate Wells."

"Wells was inspirational," added Powers. "However, most writers of science fiction aren't trying to predict the future. Their tales are possible tomorrows, potential futures, they're kaleidoscopic views of what the coming days might bring. I think Einstein best summed up the correlation between science and science fiction when he said, 'The ultimate mystery of the universe is its understandability.'"

With a pause, Powers returned once again to his lofty view of the world outside. His suite offered him the omniscience of a sky-god from this height.

"I know all about you, Mr. Morgan."

From the reflection in the expansive window, Jack could see that Powers was smiling.

"Do tell?" Jack smiled wryly. "Whoever knows all about anyone, even themselves? I am curious, though. What do you know about me?" Inwardly, Jack tensed, wondering what exactly Powers did know.

"I know you're a man of charades," Powers replied. "It's not particularly a game I fancy, and neither is roulette. Guessing and taking chances are for people without answers. And I know you're here to find out answers, Mr. Morgan."

"That I am." He returned Powers' gaze steadily, wondering when the man would actually start providing answers. "Why don't we start with time travel research? You have a project or two along those lines?"

Powers brought his attention back to Jack. "I received my first PhD when I was sixteen years old, about the same time I earned my first billion. Now, thirty-four years later, I hold four Doctorates, three Masters, and enough money to make everyone on this planet a billionaire. I'm a scientist, Mr. Morgan -- a scientist with an insurmountable income. What I want, I buy; what doesn't exist, I create."

Jack nodded, not in approval but in acknowledgement.

"So what does the man who has everything want with time travel?"

Powers laughed quietly to himself. "I suppose you could say peace of mind. What does a relative unknown such as yourself know of time travel, Mr. Morgan? I'm sorry, but I don't have you pegged as a physicist."

Jack smiled wryly. "You're right, I'm not a physicist." He waved a hand. "Oh, I keep up with the concepts in the field, but only because time travel interests me. You might say I have a vested interest in time itself."

Powers' brow arched. "Go on."

"You see," Jack said, looking casually over the office, "I have to wonder what a person would do with time travel. Would he do good, or evil, or simply use it for his own gains? And what about the rest of us, who aren't so blessed with the ability to move forward and backward in time? Do we become less in some way?"

Jack looked back at Powers and shrugged. "Call me a concerned citizen, who wonders how controlling time brings one peace of mind."

"Ethics isn't a science, Mr. Morgan," Powers retorted. "There's no rigidly defined 'right' and 'wrong' that can be placed in a mathematical equation. Science, on the other hand, is a study that prescribes to ethics -- the ethics of pure practical reason. My actions are considered moral because they're based on the pure motive and desire to do my duty as a scientist."

"Just what," Jack said, curiosity in his eyes, "is your duty as a scientist?"

"Like Leonardo da Vinci, like Christopher Columbus -- I'm a creator, an explorer," Powers stated. "I don't put much stock in divine or supernatural matters. I'm concerned with humanity as a progressive intellectual; my duty as a scientist is to give the very spirit of curiosity, experimentation and objectivity form."

"I certainly won't argue with that," Jack said. "Humanity has a huge potential, both collectively and as individuals. Leaving people alone to fulfill their own potential, without interference from tin pot dictators who think they know how to run the world is a cause I support. In fact, that's one of the reasons I'm here today."

Powers nodded. "Yes, Shinobi said you had delved in rather specialized security operations."

"I know quite a bit about the future," Jack offered. "You might call it precognition, or whatever, but I know what can happen when a technology such as time travel is used to dominate and restrict. I'd like to help you make certain that the world's villains don't co-opt your time travel research for their own ends."

"In short, you want a job." Powers smiled.

Powers led Jack further into the Powers Corp complex, past retinal scanners, live guards with complex pass phrases, computer-controlled monitoring devices, and various other forms of high-tech security. The security was sufficient, Jack thought, to deter your better class of industrial spy. The people Jack worried about, though, had access to technology at least the equal of his recall bracelet.

He fully expected the Architects to infiltrate this project in the future, if they hadn't already done so. The possibility also existed that Powers was working with the Architects already, in which case this might all be an elaborate trap.

Jack smiled. Springing elaborate traps was all part of the job.

"This is our main computing facility for the project," Powers announced. They had stopped on a balcony overlooking a room designed around a white color scheme. White coats on the scientists, white finish on the desks and computer monitors. Entirely too much white for Jack's taste.

Looking around from a security perspective, Jack could see that the scientists worked on secured terminals. An identification card had to be inserted into a slot on the terminal to gain access. Presumably the card inserted also controlled what the person could access on the computer itself.

Adequate, Jack thought, as long as you had faith in your perimeter security.

"This is where the scientists run computer simulations," Powers continued. "I've gathered enough computing power here to run reasonably accurate simulations down to the quantum level. For this project alone we've developed reliable quantum computers to allow the necessary simulations."

In Jack's time, quantum computers were a tool integrated into society. At this point in time, however, the introduction of quantum computers would make conventional data encryption useless.

Powers smiled. "Needless to say, I'm in no hurry to let the government in on that development."

Jack understood these sentiments. "No doubt, you've also developed reliable quantum encryption for the data on the project."

"A well-read man," Powers said with nod. "Yes, we've developed encryption that simply cannot be broken by any technology known today." Jack made a mental note to himself to see what his recall bracelet could do with that encryption.

A young man dressed in the ubiquitous white smock caught Jack's attention. The man was moving from terminal to terminal, carrying a small flexible briefcase. At each terminal, the man would chat a bit with the scientist stationed there, and then withdraw a small disk from his briefcase. The disk went into a slot in the terminal, the scientist would type out a few commands, and then the man would remove the disk to move on to the next terminal.

"Who's that man?" Jack pointed to the young man with the briefcase.

"One of the cleaning crew, no doubt," Powers replied. "Our techs' triple-redundancy security involves a cleaner soft-copying all their programs on a regular basis."

Jack saw a security guard come through the computing facility. The guard started to ask the young man a question, but the young man waved a hand slightly, and the guard smiled and moved on.

"Cleaning crew, my ass!" Jack vaulted the railing of the balcony, coming to rest softly on the floor of the computing facility. He moved past the rows of desks and terminals to intercept the so-called cleaner.

"What do you think you're doing?"

The young man looked a bit surprised at the question, but waved his hand slightly and said in a forceful voice, "I'm just one of the cleaning crew."

Jack smiled. The man was no doubt a low-level telepath, capable of subtly directing other people's minds. Jack's uptime conditioning rendered him capable of resisting stronger telepaths than this.

"Of course, the cleaning crew," Jack replied, turning away slightly. He caught a smug look in the young man's eyes just before he turned back and laid the man out with a right cross to his jaw. The young man flew onto a nearby desk, the smug look replaced by surprise.

Maximilian Powers entered the computing facility a minute after the incident, accompanied by an entourage of security personnel. Jack dropped the body of the spy on the ground next to Powers.

"He's a telepath," Jack said. "Capable of influencing the minds of others at a relatively close range, say fifty yards or so."

Powers waved his hand, and a team of guards carried the unconscious would-be saboteur away. "I'm impressed, Mr. Morgan."

"The first one's free, but you'll have to put me on the payroll for the next one."
 

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