Four years ago, every person on Earth lost five years of memory. Ranzi remembers commuting on a train to London with her thermos of coffee perched in a cup holder by the window, the groomed countryside passing outside. The next moment, her coffee was gone and the same countryside looked shabby, healthy, but the landscape clearly hadn’t been maintained for years. But wasn’t it just so trimmed a moment ago? Her neck was so sore as she looked around and noticed other passengers rubbing their shoulders, a general state of confusion came through the car like a morning tide.
That was nine – or four – years ago, depending on what time you subscribed to.
Dawn was still half an hour away or so as Ranzi swiped her badge and opened the large glass doors, probably ten feet high, entering the Leap Agency. She was back in DC, heading the new federal program to find out what the hell had happened. Ranzi raised her fingers holding that same thermos in a wave to Darrel who sat behind the security desk strewn with monitors – his eyes were on his phone beneath all the screens. “Morning,” they half-heartedly muttered to each other.
It was easy to guard a new agency once routine set in.
Up on the 18th floor Ranzi got to her office and was annoyed the moment she opened her door.
“I have the report.” Bolden said. It looked like his jacket was thrown on in a last thought of fashion to hide the fact he wore the same shirt yesterday. “It’s been approved by the committee; all it needs is your signature.”
The Impending Leap Back
She saw the title as he handed the thick report directly to her. By now everyone in the agency knew about this report, pulled right out of the crank file into the limelight by their very own professionals. “Bolden.” She shook her head to herself. “You know we can’t publish this.”
“I know the reasons they say we can’t, but I want to hear it directly from you. Why?”
“One, we’d all be reassigned.”
“That’s not –“
“Two, the agency would lose face. Again. If that happens you can kiss this whole project goodbye! The first time we were getting out feet under us, we could be forgiven. But if it got out we were even considering this scenario as plausible, Congress would shut us down right after dragging us through the mud in hearing after hearing.”
“At least then I’d have a platform to talk a –“
“It would be me being drug, Bolden.” Ranzi snapped back. It was too early in the morning for this conversation, again. “And you know it.” He dropped the report on the chair in front of her desk and waved him away. “Please, I have to get ready for this meeting.”
“Ranzi, you know it’s important. All I’m asking you to do is read it, then decide.”
“Bolden.” She motioned to the door.
After he closed it – not exactly with a deft touch, either – Ranzi fell on her chair, allowing herself to take a deep breath. Bolden’s been strategically persistent with his report, and thorough. It was Ranzi in the first place that gave Bolden the go-ahead to pursue this report. He was the only with with an astronomy background in the agency.
A fleet of telescopes from the European Southern Observatory noted the stars orbiting the galaxy’s black hole somehow reverted exactly five years back in their orbit. It was like clockwork the last thirty years, now exactly where these supermassive stars would be orbiting around that black hole. But six months ago, they jumped backwards. Even Ranzi admitted it sounded insane, but then again so did the five year leap in the first place.
ESA and the governments immediately classified that information and sent them to the Leap Agency – that’s when Ranzi handed it off for Bolden to lead.
The Impending Leap Back: Anomalies in Sagittarius A* Observations
A knock on her door. “Come on in.” Why are there so many people here this early in the morning, she thought.
Alicia pushed the door open and folded her arms at her chest.
“I know. I’ve read it.” Ranzi said. “You know why we can’t release it.”
“The approved draft? You’ve read it already?” She picked up the report from the chair, thumbed through it, and handed it over to Ranzi.
“Yes.” She quickly lied. There haven’t been any major edits since the last draft, she’d know about it. “It’s the uncertainty. We need answers, not more questions. Answers equals funding. Questions equal admonishments and cancellations.”
“That’s not how the scientific method works!” Alicia threw out her arms.
“No. But it’s Congress works and without their support, we can’t try to find those answers. We lose this battle to fight another day.”
“But this new conclusion, Ranzi.” She pleaded. “It needs to be seen.”
“By us. And internally we can pursue –“
Ranzi was shocked when Alicia cut her off, “We have a duty to share this information to the world. That’s why we’re all here.”
Ranzi dropped The Impending Leap Back into her drawer and shut it, then briefly closed her eyes. “There are two poisons. The first poison is finding one question and never being able to ask more. The second poison is stifling that question but being able to ask many more. I’ve picked. And that’s it.”
Alicia glared at Ranzi, but left without any further arguments.
The morning meetings went as they always did. Status reports from leads of the programs, a check in on the budget and where more is requested, and an update on the agency family fair at the end of the month. They had rented out a dozen food trucks and a few bouncy castles for kids. Necessary federal bureaucracy at work, but Ranzi could typically charge through it just fine.
She walked back to her office with a salad covered with vinaigrette in a plastic bowl, privately craving a sandwich with melted cheese, but was nearly knocked over when Mathieu from South American affairs rushed by.
“Hey! You need to watch where you’re going!” She shouted as he turned a corner.
What was his problem? Ranzi made a mental note to remind people office etiquette at the next staff meeting.
Back at her desk, she pried the lid off her salad and plunged a fork in. Taking a bite and attempting to savor the however many days old food, she opened her browser. On the front page of Google News:
Leaked Leap Agency report predicts another five year leap
“God damn it, Bolden!” She dropped the fork and started running towards –
Ranzi was back in the train to London. Her neck was so sore as she looked around and noticed other passengers rubbing their shoulders, a general state of confusion came through the car like a morning tide. Ranzi furrowed her brow and thought hard. This seemed, wrong. Then one name percolate in her mind.
“Bolden.”
The New Martian 