The Dr. Who Solution

Posted on 24 February 2023 by Michael Regan

Prohibited from contacting anyone after the meeting, Jane waited until she was on the plane, then sent a text to Lauren with her flight number. 

***

Lauren was waiting for her when she landed at Heathrow. “How was your trip?”

“Amazing!” Jane laughed. “The only available seat was in Upper Class. I have never travelled first class before. I rather like it.”

They took the express train to Paddington station, then the tube to Kings Cross, stopping for lunch before catching the train back to Cambridge. Lauren listened intently as Jane told her about the experiment and her meeting with Roberts.

“Did you get videos and pictures of the experiment?” Jane asked.

“Yes. You were right, initially there were a lot of posts, then they were gone. — The news reports said two people were dead after a fire at UC Berkeley. No other details. Copies of Dr. Clarke’s books are on your desk. There are also copies of his other papers that I ‘borrowed’ from UC Berkeley.”

Chuffed that her friend had put together all the information she needed, Jane asked, “Does Berkeley know you ‘borrowed’ them?”

Lauren grinned. “I may have forgotten to sign them out. — Come on. We are going to miss the train.”

***

Roberts finished reading the preliminary report on the explosion and Clarke’s death. The university was clambering for a public inquiry, but he got the report labelled Top Secret. Three critical items were in the report.:

1. The cause of the explosion was unknown. The electrical short that his team had placed to sabotage the experiment couldn’t have caused the explosion. 
2. The probe’s disappearance was unexplained.
3. Clarke hadn’t removed Seymour’s shared access to his files. She had downloaded a copy of the video from the high  speed camera.

While the technicians worked on the first two items, Roberts was trying to limit the damage of the third.

***

After a month of rereading everything Clarke had ever written and watching the video from the high-speed camera, the only things she knew for sure were the probe had disappeared two milli-seconds before the implosion and the explosion was outside the time chamber. Probably from inside the cabinets. 

Clarke had been adamant that the probe would travel to the past. Could he have been right? . . . Was that ‘cock and bull’ story I gave Roberts actually correct? … I’m missing something?

Jane’s phone rang. “Lauren, what’s up?”

“Two questions. Do you have copies of the Berkeley files on the college system?” 

“No, they are on my Proton Drive. Why?”

“I didn’t think so. You need to put a copy there right now.”

A minute later, “Done. … Sounds pretty, cloak and dagger. What’s going on?”

“The Americans have requested a Production Order for access to your files on the college system. They want to delete any pictures or videos of the experiment. They say they are Top Secret. … The college solicitors are fighting it. — The college will lose. If they don’t find something, they will keep poking around.”

Jane asked, “How do you know?” Then, answering her own question, John.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” Lauren asked.

“There is a research paper I am supposed to review.”

“Ugh! — You need a break. — A Dr. Who marathon, my place tonight.” 

 Jane and Lauren had been fans of the “Dr. Who” TV series when they were in uni. Lauren had bought the entire series on CD from the BBC. She even kept a vintage CD player just to play the collection.

“Dr. Who?” Jane asked whimsically. The program of a time travelling adventurer influenced the choice of her PhD thesis topic on time dilation during the Planck epoch.

“Hey, you’re working on time travel. Consult the expert. … I have wine.”

Laughing “OK – tonight at six. I’ll bring pizza.”

“Matt Smith or David Tennant?”

“Tennant – the ones with Catherine Tate. I like her.”

***

Raised in Higher Blackley, a working class area in north Manchester, Lauren had married well. Her husband and head of the Department of Applied Mathematics and Theoretical Physics (DAMTP), Dr John Holland, was from old money. The kind of money that gets you a manor house outside Cambridge and connections that give you a leg up when applying for department head. 

At university, men, boys really, would date her to get to know Jane. Except for John; he only had eyes for her; they married a year after graduation. 

***

Jane arrived about 5:30 and, fueled by pizza and wine, they started their Dr. Who marathon. At 10:30pm John had had enough and went to bed. 

By 2:20am, Jane and Lauren were well into their third bottle of wine. Jane was giving a running commentary on the inaccuracies. They both booed the bad guys and cheered on Dr. Who. Skipping some of the episodes, they were two minutes into the penultimate episode when Jane yelled, “STOP THE FILM.”

Lauren burst out laughing. “It’s a bloody CD.”

“PAUSE THE CD.” Jane roared, almost knocking over her glass as she bounced up from the sofa.

“Aye Aye captain – CD paused.”

He said something important. What was it? “Play the last minute again,” Jane commanded.

Lauren obediently replayed the last minute

“STOP. Play that last bit with Tennant again. I want to hear what he said.”

Jane had Lauren repeat the dialogue twice more. “The TARDIS is still in the same place, but the earth is gone.”

Jane started giggling – God, he’s cute. What was so important about what he said?

Lauren looked at her friend. “We’re drunk – I think we need to call it a night.”

Jane agreed – sleep and a clear head were in order.

“I had the guest room made up. See you in the morning.”

John had put on the coffee and started breakfast before his wife and Jane woke up. As the women came into the kitchen, he greeted them a little louder than necessary. “You ladies had quite a night!”

“Not so loud,” Lauren and Jane blurted out in unison. “Coffee!”

“I have to go into the office. I’ll be back in a few hours.” John said apologetically.

Lauren snapped, “It’s Saturday.”

“I know dear, but it’s the only day I can get things done without someone bothering me.”

After John left, Jane and Lauren started on the ‘Full English Breakfast’ he had made for them.

“You were pretty excited last night. What was so special about what Tennant said?” Lauren asked.

Jane snickered, “I am not sure – I was pretty out of it. . . . Please don’t tell John, I don’t want him laughing about me getting ideas from a Dr. Who program.”

Lauren smiled and nodded. “You’re right. John would never let her hear the end of it.”

“I have to get home, get into some fresh clothes, and go for a run to clear my head.”

Running wasn’t Lauren’s thing. She was much more content working in her garden. “OK. . . . I’ll call you next week. . . . I need to get John away from Cambridge for a few days. He needs to be reminded that the place won’t fall apart without him.”

Going back to her house, just off Madingley Road, Jane changed into her running gear and headed out on her usual circuit. Running helped clear her head. Before long, any hint of a hangover was gone. Her mind was clear, she was just enjoying the run when Tennant’s words from the previous night hit her. Christ – can it be that simple? How could I have missed that?

She walked slowly back to her house, throwing up new ideas in her head and just as quickly dismissing them. It’s the only solution that fits.

***

It was just over a fortnight before Lauren called. She got John to take a one week vacation. Then she spent two days in London for meetings with CILP, the Chartered Institute of Library Professionals.

“Are you busy?” Lauren asked.

Spending so much time on reviewing Clarke’s work had put Jane behind finishing her own work. She looked at the pile of papers waiting to be marked. Screw it – “No. Nothing  that can’t wait.”

“Lunch?”

“Punter’s – Do you want to walk?” Jane asked.

It was a warm spring day. The pub was only half a mile away. “Sounds good!”

The Punter, a coaching inn dating from the 1840s, maintained its charm with rough-hewn tables and, as the owner put it, old crap hanging on the walls, was their pub. Climbing hydrangea and sweet peas screened the converted stable and garden in the back. The meals were adequate, if pricey, and the wine was tolerable.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

They were there in about ten minutes. Ordering two house wines, they grabbed a table in the rear courtyard.

Lauren looked at her friend. “You have been smiling like a Cheshire cat ever since we sat down. … You figured it out, didn’t you?”

“I think so. … Some of it, anyway. If I could wave a magic wand and freeze you in spacetime for one hour, where would you be?”

“I guess I would still be here waiting to order my lunch.” Then, louder, “The service here gets worse every day.”

Jane laughed. “l give you a hint. If I freeze you in spacetime, you don’t move; remember what Tennant said.”

Lauren looked puzzled for a minute, then her eyes widened. “Nooo. It can’t be that simple. Is that what happened to the probe?”

Jane nodded. “Yes, I think it is.”

Lauren slumped in her chair, thinking about the consequences. “Freezing the probe in spacetime. Is that what Clarke did? Not sending it back in time?”

“I am not sure. It would fit what I know about the experiment. — Our work showed Caldirola was correct, time is quantum not continuous. Clarke thought it was due to a time particle.”

“Was that what he was trying to do, remove time particles from an object?” Lauren asked.

“Umm. I think time happens in discrete events, like in a movie. I don’t think there is a time particle. — There is another possibility. What if I could block the time event? That would remove the object from spacetime.”

“And that is what you think happened?” 

Jane nodded.

“Do you know how he did it?” 

“No! Not without access to his work. — I need to talk to John about funding a major research project.”

The waitress finally arrived and took their orders. Lauren waited for her to leave. She looked troubled.

“Tell me?” Jane asked.

“The court is ordering John to go into your account and delete all files pertaining to the events in Berkeley.”

“That’s not too bad. We knew that could happen.”

“There is more. — You are going to be ordered to delete those files from your personal computer.”

Jane thought, That order is unenforceable. I have backups. Don’t like the bastards invading my privacy.

Lauren paused, then continued, “The Americans have started a secret project into time travel based on Clarke’s work and headed by your friend Roberts. …”

Jane interrupted, “But I don’t think Clarke demonstrated time travel. Not the way most people understand it.”

“Everyone else thinks he did.” Sounding conspiratorial, “It needs to stay that way. The US and UK governments see time travel as a security threat. … The government doesn’t want the STFC to grant funding for research on time travel. They are also withholding UKRI funding from any university doing research into time travel.”

So much for academic freedom. “How do …”

Lauren cut her off. “Don’t ask!”

Jane realised there was much more to her friend than she ever suspected. “Roberts said I had a close connection to the Home Office?”

Lauren snapped. “Roberts is a fool. He talks too much.”

Their lunch arrived. Jane just picked at her food. Neither woman tried to restart a conversation. 

I have to know, Jane thought. “Friend or puppet-master?”

Lauren was indignant. “Friend. — Dear God friend, always!”

“You encouraged me to get my Masters in Computer Science.”

“As your friend, I had nothing to do with the Home Office back then. … You are brilliant. I knew you could do it — I am a consultant, not an operative. Thanks to you, I am now the government’s consultant on time travel.”

“CILP?” 

Lauren nods. 

“I wondered why I couldn’t find much about them on the Internet.”

“Nobody pays attention to librarians.”

Jane laughed, “Another Vasili Mitrokhin? … Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“You know I couldn’t do that.” 

Jane had signed the Official Secrets Act while consulting for MI5. She knew Lauren couldn’t talk about her work; she was walking a fine line by giving Jane as much information as she had.  

“A few friends found out before. They started avoiding me. I don’t want to lose you as well.”

Jane sat silent for a minute, then shook her head. “That’s not going to happen. … You are my best friend. I don’t know what I would do without you to vent on.”

After paying for their meals, they headed back to work. Along the way, they discussed how Jane might get funding for her research. Lauren emailed her a list of potential funding sources.

The list was painfully short. Companies that sponsored research wanted commercially viable projects, not ones as speculative as time travel. Only a few companies bothered to reply. They dismissed her after finding out universities refused to do the research.

Jane started looking outside the UK. The US was out of the question, Canada and Australia were the obvious choices. Finding potential sponsors in either country proved challenging. Putting together a list of potential sponsors, Jane started writing letters requesting meetings to discuss her proposal. A dozen unanswered letters later, Jane doubted she would ever find a sponsor. The next person on her list was a Canadian, Tim Westland. He would be in London attending a UNICEF gala the next week. 

I’ll go to London and see him in person.

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