"What happened?" demanded Beranger again.

Theo spread his hands. "I have no idea. I can't imagine what could have caused it."

"The-the whatever whatever it was occurred at precisely the scheduled time for your LHC experiment to begin," said Beranger. it was occurred at precisely the scheduled time for your LHC experiment to begin," said Beranger.

Theo nodded, and jerked a thumb at the TV. "So Bernard Shaw was saying."

"It's on CNN!" wailed the French man, as if all were now lost. "How did they find out about your experiment?"

"Shaw didn't mention anything about CERN. He just-"

"Thank G.o.d! Look, you're not to say anything to anyone about what you were doing, understand?"

"But-"

"Not a word. The damage is doubtless in the billions, if not the trillions. Our insurance won't cover more than a tiny fraction of it."

Theo didn't know Beranger well, but all science administrators worldwide were doubtless cut from the same cloth. And hearing Beranger go on about culpability brought it all into perspective for the young Greek. "Dammit, there was no way we could have known this would happen. There's no expert anywhere who could claim that this was a foreseeable consequence of our experiment. But something something has occurred that has never been experienced before, and we're the only ones who have even a clue as to what caused it. We've got to investigate this." has occurred that has never been experienced before, and we're the only ones who have even a clue as to what caused it. We've got to investigate this."

"Of course we'll investigate," said Beranger. "I've already got more than forty engineers down in the tunnel. But we've got to be careful, and not just for CERN's sake. You think there aren't going to be lawsuits launched individually and collectively against every single member of your project team? No matter how unpredictable this outcome was, there'll be those who will say it was a result of gross criminal negligence, and we should be personally held accountable."

"Personal lawsuits?'

"That's right." Beranger raised his voice. "Everyone! Everyone, your attention please."

Faces turned toward him.

"This is how we're going to handle this issue," he said to the group. "There will be no mention of CERN's possible involvement to anyone outside the facility. If anyone gets email or phone calls asking about the LHC experiment that was supposed to be performed today, reply that its scheduled running had been delayed until seventeen-thirty, because of a computer glitch, and that, in the aftermath of whatever it was that happened, it didn't get run at all today. Is that clear? Also, absolutely no communication with the press; it all goes through the media office, understand? And for G.o.d's sake, no one activates the LHC again without written authorization from me. Is that clear?"

There were nods.

"We'll get through this people," said Beranger. "I promise you that. But we're going to have to work together." He lowered his voice and turned back to Theo. "I want hourly reports on what you've learned." He turned to go.

"Wait," said Theo. "Can you a.s.sign one of the secretaries to watch CNN? Somebody should be monitoring this stuff in case anything important comes up.

"Give me a little credit," said Beranger. "I'll have people monitor not just CNN, but the BBC World Service, the French all-news channel, CBC Newsworld, and anything else we can pull off a satellite; we'll save it all on tape. I want an exact record of what's reported as it happens; I don't want anyone inflating damage claims later."

"I'm more interested in clues as to what caused the phenomenon," said Theo.

"We'll look for that, too, of course," said Beranger. "Remember, update me every hour, on the hour."

Theo nodded, and Beranger left. Theo took a second to rub his temples. d.a.m.n, but he wished Lloyd were here. "Well," he said at last, to Jake, "I guess we should start a complete diagnostic on every system here in the control center; we need to know if anything malfunctioned. And let's get a group together and see what we can make of the hallucinations."

"I can round some people up," said Jake.

Theo nodded. "Good. We'll use the big conference room on the second floor."

"Okay," said Jake. "I'll meet you there as soon as I can."

Theo nodded, and Jake left. He knew he should spring into action, too, but for a moment he just stood there, still stunned by it all.

Michiko managed to pull herself together enough to try to call Tamiko's father in Tokyo-even though it was not yet 4:00 A.M. there-but the phone lines were jammed. It wasn't the sort of message one wanted to send by email, but, well, if any international communications system was still up and running, it would be the Internet, that child of the Cold War designed to be completely decentralized so that no matter how many of its nodes had been taken out by enemy bombs, messages would still get through. She used one of the school's computers and dashed off a note in English-she had a kanji kanji keyboard in her apartment, but none was available here. Lloyd had to actually issue the commands to send the message, though: Michiko broke down again as she was trying to click the appropriate b.u.t.ton. keyboard in her apartment, but none was available here. Lloyd had to actually issue the commands to send the message, though: Michiko broke down again as she was trying to click the appropriate b.u.t.ton.

Lloyd didn't know what to say or do. Ordinarily, the death of a child was the biggest crisis a parent could face, but, well, Michiko was surely not the only one going through such a tragedy today. There was so much death, so much injury, so much destruction. The background of horror didn't make the loss of Tamiko one whit easier to bear, of course, but- -but there were things that had to be done. Perhaps Lloyd never should have left CERN; it was, after all, his and Theo's experiment that had likely caused all this. Doubtless he'd accompanied Michiko not just out of love for her and concern for Tamiko but also because, at least in part, he'd wanted to run away from whatever had gone wrong.

But now- Now they had to return to CERN. If anyone was going to figure out what had happened-not just here but, as the radio reports and comments from other parents he'd overheard indicated, all over the world-it would be the people at CERN. They couldn't wait for an ambulance to come to take the body-it might be hours or days. Surely the law was that they couldn't move the body, either, until the police had looked at it, although it seemed highly unlikely that the driver could be held culpable.

At last, though, Madame Severin returned, and she volunteered that she and her staff would look after Tamiko's remains until the police came.

Michiko's face was puffy and red, and her eyes were bloodshot. She'd cried so much that there was nothing left, but every few minutes her body heaved as if she were still sobbing.

Lloyd loved little Tamiko, too-she would have been his stepdaughter. He'd spent so much time comforting Michiko that he hadn't really had a chance to cry himself yet; that would come, he knew-but for now, for right right now, he had to be strong. He used his index finger to gently lift Michiko's chin. He was all set with the words-duty, responsibility, work to be done, we have to go-but Michiko was strong in her own way, too, and wise, and wonderful, and he loved her to her very soul, and the words didn't need to be said. She managed a small nod, her lips trembling. "I know," she said in English, in a tiny, raw voice. "I know we have to head back to CERN." now, he had to be strong. He used his index finger to gently lift Michiko's chin. He was all set with the words-duty, responsibility, work to be done, we have to go-but Michiko was strong in her own way, too, and wise, and wonderful, and he loved her to her very soul, and the words didn't need to be said. She managed a small nod, her lips trembling. "I know," she said in English, in a tiny, raw voice. "I know we have to head back to CERN."

He helped her as she walked, one arm around her waist, the other propping her up by the elbow. The keening of sirens had never stopped-ambulances, fire trucks, police cars, warbling and wailing and Doppler shifting, a constant background since just after the phenomenon had occurred. They made their way back to Lloyd's car through the dim evening light-many of the streetlamps were out of commission-and drove along the debris-littered streets to CERN, Michiko hugging herself the whole time.

As they drove, Lloyd thought for a moment about an event his mother had once told him about. He'd been a toddler, too young to remember it himself: the night the lights went out, the great power failure in Eastern North American in 1965. The electricity had been off for hours. His mother had been home alone with him that night; she said everybody who had lived through that incredible blackout would remember for the rest of their lives exactly where they were when the power had failed.

This would be like that. Everyone would remember where they'd been when this blackout-a blackout of a different sort-had occurred.

Everyone who had lived through it, that is.

4.

By the time Lloyd and Michiko returned, Jake and Theo had gathered a group of LHC workers together in a conference room on the second floor of the control center.

Most of CERN's staff lived either in the Swiss town of Meyrin (which bordered the east end of the CERN campus), a dozen kilometers farther along in Geneva, or in the French towns of St. Genis or Thoiry, northwest of CERN. But they had come from all over Europe, as well as the rest of the world. The dozen faces now staring at Lloyd were widely varied. Michiko had joined the circle, too, but was detached, her eyes glazed. She simply sat in a chair, rocking slowly back and forth.

Lloyd, as project leader, led the debriefing. He looked from person to person. "Theo told me what CNN's been saying. I guess it's pretty clear that there were a variety of hallucinations worldwide." He took a deep breath. Focus, purpose-that's what he needed now. "Let's see if we can get a handle on exactly what happened. Can we go around the circle? Don't go into any detail; just give us a single sentence about what you saw. If you don't mind, I'll take notes, okay? Olaf, can we start with you?"

"Sure, I guess," said a muscular blond man. "I was at my parents' vacation home. They've got a chalet near Sundsvall."

"In other words," said Lloyd, "it was a place you're familiar with?"

"Oh, yes."

"And how accurate was the vision?"

"Very accurate. It was exactly as I remembered it."

"Was there anyone else beside yourself in the vision?"

"No-which was kind of strange. The only reason I go there is to visit my parents, and they weren't there."

Lloyd thought of the wizened version of himself he'd seen in the mirror. "Did you-did you see yourself?"

"In a mirror or something, you mean? No."

"Okay," said Lloyd. "Thanks."

The woman next to Olaf was middle-aged and black. Lloyd felt awkward; he knew he should should know her name, but he didn't. Finally, he simply smiled and said, "Next." know her name, but he didn't. Finally, he simply smiled and said, "Next."

"It was downtown Nairobi, I think," said the woman. "At night. It was a warm evening. I thought it was Dinesen Street, but it looked too built-up for that. And there was a McDonald's there."

"Don't they have McDonald's in Kenya?" asked Lloyd.

"Sure, but-I mean, the sign said said it was McDonald's, but the logo was wrong. You know, instead of the golden arches they had this big M that was all straight lines-very modern looking." it was McDonald's, but the logo was wrong. You know, instead of the golden arches they had this big M that was all straight lines-very modern looking."

"So Olaf's vision was of a place he'd often been to, but yours was of somewhere you'd never been before, or at least of something you'd never seen before?"

The woman nodded. "I guess that's right."

Michiko was four places away around the circle. Lloyd couldn't tell if she was absorbing any of this or not.

"What about you, Franco?" asked Lloyd.

Franco della Robbia shrugged. "It was Rome, at night. But-I don't know-it must have been some video game, really. Some VR thing."

Lloyd leaned forward. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, it was was Rome, all right. Right by the Coliseum. And I was driving a car-except I wasn't driving, not exactly. The car seemed to be working of its own volition. And I couldn't tell for sure about the one I was in, but a lot of the cars were Rome, all right. Right by the Coliseum. And I was driving a car-except I wasn't driving, not exactly. The car seemed to be working of its own volition. And I couldn't tell for sure about the one I was in, but a lot of the cars were hovering hovering maybe twenty centimeters off the ground." He shrugged. "Like I said, a simulation of some sort." maybe twenty centimeters off the ground." He shrugged. "Like I said, a simulation of some sort."

Sven and Antonia, who had both spoken of flying cars earlier in the day, were nodding vigorously. "I saw the same thing," said Sven. "Well, not Rome-but I did see floating cars."

"Me, too," said Antonia.

"Fascinating," said Lloyd. He turned to his young grad student, Jacob Horowitz. "Jake, what did you see?"

Jake's voice was thin, reedy. He ran freckled fingers nervously through his red hair. "The room was pretty nondescript. A lab somewhere. Yellow walls. There was a periodic table on one of the walls, though, and it was labeled in English. And Carly Tompkins was there."

"Who?" said Lloyd.

"Carly Tompkins. At least, I think it was her. She looked a lot older than the last time I'd seen her."

"Who is Carly Tompkins?"

The answer came not from Jake but from Theo Procopides, sitting farther around the circle. "You should know her, Lloyd-she's a fellow Canuck. Carly's a meson researcher; last I heard, she was with TRIUMF."

Jake nodded. "That's right. I've only met her a couple of times, but I'm pretty sure it was her."

Antonia, whose turn would have been next, raised her eyebrows. "If Jake's vision was of Carly, I wonder whether Carly's vision was of Jake?"

Everyone looked at the Italian woman, intrigued. Lloyd shrugged a little. "There's one way to find out. We could phone her." He looked at Jake. "Do you have her number?"

Jake shook his head. "Like I said, I hardly know her. We went to some of the same seminars at the last APS meeting, and I sat in on her paper on chromodynamics."

"If she's in APS," said Antonia, "she'll be in the directory." She waddled across the room and rummaged on a shelf until she found a slim volume with a plain cardboard cover. She riffled through it. "Here she is," said Antonia. "Home and work numbers."

"I-ah, I don't want to call her," said Jake.

Lloyd was surprised by his reluctance, but didn't pursue the matter. "That's all right. You shouldn't speak to her anyway. I want to see if she spontaneously comes up with your name."

"You may not be able to get through," said Sven. "The phones have been jammed with people trying to check on family and friends-not to mention all the lines knocked down by motorists."

"It's worth a try," said Theo. He got up, walked across the room, and took the directory from Antonia. But then he looked at the phone, and looked back at the numbers in the directory. "How do you dial Canada from here?"

"It's the same as dialing the U.S.," said Lloyd. "The country code's the same: zero-one."

Theo's finger danced on the keypad, entering a long string of digits. Then, for the benefit of his audience, he held up fingers to indicate how many rings had occurred. One. Two. Three. Four- "Oh, h.e.l.lo. Carly Tompkins, please. Hi, Dr. Tompkins. I'm calling from Geneva, from CERN. Look, there's a bunch of us here. Is it okay if I put you on the speakerphone?"

A sleepy voice: "-if you like. What's going on?"

"We want to know what your hallucination was when you blacked out."

"What? Is this some kind of prank?"

Theo looked at Lloyd. "She doesn't know."

Lloyd cleared his voice, then spoke up. "Dr. Tompkins, this is Lloyd Simcoe. I'm also a Canadian, although I was with the D-Zero Group at Fermilab until 2007, and for the last two years I've been here at CERN." He paused, not sure what to say next. Then: "What time is it there?"

"Just before noon." The sound of a stifled yawn. "Today is my day off; I was sleeping in. What's this all about?"

"So you haven't been up yet today?"

"No."

"Do you have a TV in the room you're in?" asked Lloyd.

"Yes."

"Turn it on. Look at the news."

She sounded irritated. "I can hardly get the Swiss news here in British Columbia."

"It doesn't have to be the Swiss news. Put on any news channel."

The whole room heard Tompkins sighing into the mouthpiece of her phone. "All right. Just a second."