Page 102 of The Cabinet of Dr. Leng

Ferenc got a few pieces of equipment from his workbench and returned to the rear of the machine, while Proctor took over the master console. Ferenc made a slow, thorough inspection, occasionally stopping to run current through a component or subject a subassembly to an abrupt change in temperature, each time asking Proctor for the results.

“I think I’ve found the problem,” he said after about twenty minutes. “There’s a series of variable resistors back here that are getting too much juice.” A few moments of silence passed. “I want you to turn the rotary potentiometer—marked ‘SEC 2-C’ on the master console—to the twelve-o’clock position…slowly.”

Proctor turned the knob.

“Hold it!” Ferenc said. Then: “Okay, dial it back down.” Ferenc peered at the back side of the device, fiddled with it, and then called out: “Try it again.”

Proctor repeated the process. A moment later, Ferenc rose from behind the central section of the machine. “Got it,” he said, dusting off his lab coat.

“Problem’s resolved?” Proctor asked.

“There was a unit that simply wasn’t intended to remain in idle all the time, with current passing through it constantly. I adjusted an inbound capacitor to compensate. But we’ll need to run a full test to make sure—as well as keeping an eye on those resistors, going forward. Wouldn’t want them to fail while the machine is idling some night when nobody’s here to notice.”

“If that’s a possibility, you should install a warning system to alert us to such a failure.”

Proctor suggested this as if such an undertaking was as simple as rubbing two sticks together. “All in good time. First, we need to complete our test cycle…and make sure I’m right.”

Once again, they took up their respective positions on opposite ends of the machine. Ferenc brought the fields up to 50 percent. This time, the humming remained stable. There was no stuttering.

“All right,” he said. “Prepare to go to 100 percent.”

“Full power?” Proctor asked. “Why?”

“You’re damn right. Didn’t you hear me say we had to run a ‘full test’?”

Proctor didn’t reply, but he looked a little doubtful.

“Look. It’s not enough to exercise this thing at 50 percent. What would happen if it failed while Pendergast was returning? Christ, he’d be sent off who knows when or where, and you’d never see your boss again. If that abnormality was symptomatic of something worse, we need to know about it now—while there’s time to fix it.”

After a moment, Proctor nodded.

Ferenc exhaled audibly over the constant hum. “All right: primary and secondary readouts on the lattice still good?”

Proctor nodded.

Ferenc brought the power up to 75 percent, watching the master control panel carefully. “Braiding complete,” he said. “Lattice stable. Keep a close eye on your readouts—I’m going to bring it up to 100 percent.”

“Understood.” Proctor leaned closer to his instrumentation panel.

Slowly, slowly, Ferenc brought the power up to full, working the magnetic fields in the process as a potter might shape clay on a wheel. The humming increased in intensity but remained steady. Suddenly, the air above the green-painted circle on the floor seemed to fold in on itself—and then the portal appeared, wavering ever so slightly, intensely bright.

“Don’t look at it,” Ferenc warned. “Keep your eyes glued to the instrumentation, let me know if you see the slightest fluctuation. We’ll hold for ten seconds, then dial it back to idle and check for any irregularities. I’ll count down.”

“Understood,” Proctor said.

“Here we go. Ten, nine, eight…”

Ferenc reached beneath his console and triggered a tiny switch. “Seven.”

There was a barely audible puff, and then a mist—launched, it seemed, from somewhere directly above the secondary console—suddenly enveloped Proctor’s head and shoulders.

“Oops!” Ferenc said.

Proctor, concentrating on his panel, took a millisecond to react. He leaned forward, then back.

“Take deep breaths,” Ferenc suggested. “That way, the stinging in your lungs won’t last as long.”

Proctor moved away from his console, staggering slightly. The mist around his head was clearing, but his face and the front of his shirt remained wet and beaded with droplets. He turned toward Ferenc and began to approach him, face black with rage, then paused. He took another step—breathing shallowly. Ferenc began to fear Proctor might actually be a superman instead of just a man. But then Proctor stopped; swayed unsteadily; then fell forward, crashing face-first against the concrete floor.

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