Several hours had passed since Jonathan Brooks left the diagnostics capsule of Project "Fracture." Martha Crockford and Jessica Mills were sipping the remaining whiskey stored in Professor Crockford's desk drawer.
At the same time, Ioanna Averino, along with her colleague Thomas Morph, arrived in the capital and settled into one of the rooms provided by the Capitol. Armando Averino continued to fulfill the duties of the district head in the absence of Marcus Gray, preparing to return home to Arkan, as the workday was nearly over. Meanwhile, the Wanderers were going about their business.
Alexa Miller was visiting her father in Revel, but he had not yet regained consciousness. Returning to the Compound, Alexa began preparations for the celebration. James was training in the gym: warming up, practicing hand-to-hand combat, and shooting. He accurately hit all his targets, and after training, he took a shower.
While James was focusing on physical training, Samantha was taking notes of calculations in her notebook. She was still looking for a way to return to her home world after reaching the Center of Primordial Space. No one knew if she believed in success. Even Samantha herself couldn't answer that question.
Jonathan Brooks was not wasting time either. He walked through the Gardens of Eternity, pausing for twenty minutes by the Cube of Memory. There, he saw the names of his parents and hundreds of others who perished during the collapse. Sadness overwhelmed him, as if invisible hands were squeezing his heart. Pain pierced his chest, making Jonathan wonder if his heart had stopped forever. This sensation repeated itself again and again — the ghost of past pain would not let him rest, as if testing his resilience.
After these painful memories, Jonathan returned to the Complex. He found himself among the familiar sterile corridors and ascended to the top floor of the tower, where every morning he greeted the sunrise through the clouds. From there, a view of the Gardens of Eternity bathed in the first rays of light unfolded before him. John's room was empty and sterile. He sat on the bed and sank into his thoughts. Memories of childhood merged into a single picture, flashes of images danced before his eyes: walks with his parents, games with his sister, the night of the collapse, the hospital, the doctors, Project "Fracture." But here, in the room, they were just faded images devoid of feeling.
A ringing phone pulled him out of his trance. It was his sister Ioanna. A screen appeared on the wall of the room, and John saw her smile.
"Hey, brother," she said. "How are you? How did the check go?"
"All good, we are fully prepared," John replied softly. "And you?"
Ioanna's smile vanished, and John realized something had happened.
"I'm in the capital," Ioanna said, her lips pressed together as if afraid of being scolded.
"Is that good news?" John asked, frowning.
"Yes, Mr. Volkov called me and asked to conduct a live stream of the launch." Ioanna clearly didn't want to say those words, and John understood how hard it was for her to speak.
"That's wonderful!" John replied, trying to support his sister.
"I know, but we had plans for this week. We wanted to spend it together."
"Well, we can talk on the phone, right?" John felt pain saying this, but he understood that his sister had her own life, and it would continue after he left.
"That doesn't make it easier for me," Ioanna sighed.
"That's a shame," John said firmly. "Everyone has their path, and that's important. You took an important step."
"Stop trying to comfort me," Ioanna smiled through her tears.
"See, you're already smiling. That means it's not all bad."
"Maybe," Ioanna nodded. "But you know what's the saddest part?"
"What is it?"
"You'll become an uncle and won't see your nephew..."
"Oh... really?" John felt joy for his sister, but it saddened him that he wouldn't see his nephew.
"Yes, I was told today," Ioanna replied.
"When's the activation?"
"Tomorrow at five in the evening."
"Now you'll have a real family," John smiled.
"But you won't be in it," Ioanna looked away.
"Who said that? I'll quickly run to the Center, come back, and bring a souvenir from another world."
"From every world," Ioanna laughed with tears in her eyes.
They talked for a long time about the future child, names, wallpaper color, and the crib. John and Ioanna had always supported each other, and even though Ioanna had a husband and a child on the way, John remained her closest person. Space and time could not separate them.
When the conversation came to an end, the screen disappeared. John got dressed: a white shirt, pants, and a vest. He didn't like jackets — they seemed shapeless to him. As he buttoned the top button, he heard a knock on the door. It was Alexa, dressed in a long white dress.
"Are you ready? Everyone is already downstairs," she smiled.
"Yes, just a moment," John tied his shoelaces and left the room.
"Well, you look handsome," Alex said, nudging him in the shoulder.
"And you look good too," John joked.
"Ready to smile at everyone?"
"Do I have to?"
"Of course! A smile will get you champagne!" Alexa laughed.
They went down to the first floor, playfully teasing each other. The sterile corridors of the complex were decorated: garlands hung on the walls, and confetti lay on the floor.
"Oh, here you are!" Martha Crockford greeted them. "We're starting already." A faint aroma of whiskey lingered around her. John and Alex pretended not to smell it. John, on the contrary, wondered how the professor could drink so rarely, considering the stress Martha endured every day. Apparently, she had replaced alcohol with cigarettes, as she always had a pack on hand.
"Good evening, Professor Crockford!" Alexa greeted softly.
"It'll only be a good evening when I give my speech. Hurry up and get on stage; we start in five minutes," Martha walked down the corridor from which John and Alex had come.
There were already several hundred people in the hall: all the staff, cadets who had not become Wanderers. James and Samantha were already standing by the stage. James, as promised, held a glass of champagne in his hands and explained to Samantha that champagne is a very light drink, but alcohol is still alcohol, taking sip after sip. The background of the celebration was created by soft music playing from the speakers. Scientists boasted to each other about their calculations, while Jessica Mills simply sat in her chair and watched what was happening.
"Shall we go?" Alexa asked quietly.
"I'll catch up, I'll be right back," John replied. Alexa nodded and headed towards the other Wanderers. John went after Martha.
"Professor Crockford?" John called, approaching Martha, who was standing by an open window and exhaling tobacco smoke.
"Yes, John?" she replied. In this part of the Compound, the lights were already off, and the dimness was created only by beams of light coming from the corridor leading to the main hall. The light reflected in Martha's glasses, hiding her pupils.
"Professor, how are you?"
"Fine, John," Martha replied, taking a drag from her cigarette. "And you?"
"Also fine, Professor. Isn't it forbidden to smoke here?"
"And who will find out about it?" Martha smirked. "And who will punish the supervisor?"
"I wanted to congratulate you."
"Heh," Martha laughed. "I should be the one congratulating you, Mr. Brooks. You have achieved a lot."
"Thanks to you and the project."
"That's not entirely true, John. We only nudged you; you took the steps yourself. Do you remember where it all began?"
"That night?"
"Yes, Jonathan, exactly. Do you remember where you were that night?"
"Yes, Professor."
"And look where you are now. Whatever happened that night, it's because of that event that you stand here. And it is you who will embark on a journey to the center of being. You and the other Wanderers. Each of you contributed to the project."
"But without you, this wouldn't have happened," John replied good-naturedly.
"Mr. Brooks, do you want to hear advice from a mad scientist?"
"You're not mad, Professor..."
"Oh... you don't know much. But here's my advice: never dig into cause-and-effect relationships. You can get lost and not understand where the end is and where the beginning is."
Martha extinguished her cigarette, and together with John, they headed to the main hall. Climbing up a few steps, Professor Crockford walked onto the stage. The Wanderers stood nearby. The lights went out. Martha approached the microphone and began her speech:
"Dear colleagues, students, and Wanderers," she surveyed the entire hall. "Twenty-two years ago, the late Professor Simon Williams conducted an experiment. Fortunately or unfortunately, the experiment failed. He did not achieve his goal. But he opened a window into Primordial Space, and then we learned how vast our reality is. We learned about other worlds, other universes, and that somewhere among them exists the Center. Because of that experiment, we are now standing here and celebrating. Unfortunately, in the attempts to reach the Center, terrible events occurred. We all remember those who gave their lives in the name of science. Every resident of every city in the Consolidated Nation mourns. We lost loved ones, friends, colleagues. But today, after more than ten years, we are here. Thanks to you, each of you in this hall, this day has become possible. Each of you gave a part of yourself for the Fracture Project to exist. I want to thank the scientists who participated in creating the project: thanks to you, the Machine exists, thanks to you, the Wanderers are provided with everything necessary to reach the Center. And, of course, thanks to you, we are making a huge leap forward in the development of our society and our civilization. I also want to thank the students who could not pass the selection and become Wanderers. You gave it your all, proving your strength, intelligence, and speed every day. You are all welcome in our scientific community, both in the Fracture project and within our country. Or you can try again in the next wave. And, of course, I want to personally thank you: James, Alexa, Samantha, and Jonathan. Compared to you, our journey has been short. You will see new worlds, perhaps new civilizations. You will touch other lives and, in the end, reach your destination — the Center of Primordial Space. You will find answers to questions we can only ask, see universes we can only imagine. We created the opportunity, and you will take advantage of it. Thanks to all of you here, and to those who are not with us, the Fracture Project is moving into its final stage! Exactly seven days from now, the energy disks of the Machine will pass energy through them, and we will create the first fracture. All of this has become possible only thanks to you!"
Martha Crockford raised her hands, the lights turned on, and the hall erupted in joy! People applauded, shouted congratulations, and champagne flowed like a river. After so many years, the goal would finally be achieved. After years of waiting, a breakthrough would happen.
After Professor Crockford's powerful speech, the Wanderers took a small table near the window. James brought each of them a glass of champagne and sat down in his place.
"That was intense," James said, looking at Martha, who was being handed a glass of whiskey by one of the scientists.
"I agree with that," Alexa said.
"What's there to celebrate?" Samantha spoke up.
"We've trained for so many years, learned so much, gone through a lot. I think there's a reason to be happy," Jonathan replied.
"Do you know what this is?" Samantha asked, looking at everyone at the table. "These are our funerals."
"That's not true," Alexa sharply retorted. "They're celebrating that the goal has finally been achieved."
"It hasn't been achieved yet," Samantha coldly replied. "What's the chance that we'll survive? That the Machine will create a fracture? That we'll reach the Center and..."
"If you think like that, why did we even agree?" Alexa interrupted.
"Everyone has their own reasons..." Samantha replied just as sharply.
"Well, if everyone has their own reasons, then there's no point in being upset," Alexa countered.
"Hey," Jonathan interjected. James pulled the glass away from his lips and looked at him. "Yes, each of us has our reasons. Yes, each of us leaves loved ones and friends behind, but we all agreed; we are all Wanderers. And even if these are our funerals, what funerals they are! Does everyone get the chance to drink at their own funeral?"
"Well said," James finished his drink.
"Do you agree?" Jonathan asked Samantha.
"Not really a good funeral," she replied dryly.
"Well, no one's holding us here," James suggested.
"Arkan?" Alexa asked.
"Are you going to get drunk?"
"Yes, Sam, that's exactly it. We'll drink until we pass out. This might be the last time we can get drunk. And definitely the last time we drink together," James replied.
"And you, Jonathan?" Samantha asked, looking at him.
"Well... James is right. This is the last time we can drink together, so I'm in. I know a great bar in Arkan, in the old district."
"The old district really has good bars," James added.
"Come on, Sam. Everyone's relaxing today."
"The Consolidated Nation values you and needs you," James said with a smile, raising his glass again.
"You're already drunk," Alexa said, while Jonathan continued to look at Samantha.
"Ugh," Samantha sighed. "There's nothing to do here anyway. Let's go."
One by one, the Wanderers left the hall as everyone else chatted among themselves and headed to Arkan — a small town near the complex.