Chapter 8: Baseline
Location: GIG/Apex R&D Campus, Agonwood
"Wardrobe allowance authorized," Alex said, pulling a sleek black card from his jacket pocket. "It's a corporate expense account under GIG. Try not to buy a boat."
I reached for the card, but Julian intercepted it. He plucked it from Alex's fingers and held it just out of my reach, forcing me to step into his space to get it.
"She doesn't need a boat," Julian said, looking down at me with a smirk that felt like a challenge. "She needs to look like she belongs in the lab, not a dorm room."
I protested. "The wardrobe thing was just Marc's joke. If it's just us around the Agonwood facilities, what does it matter what I wear? My oversized t-shirts are fun, comfy and practical."
"Dave is the project lead on paper," Alex continued, seemingly ignoring Julian's little power play. "So, technically, you report to him."
Dave looked up from his tablet and grinned. "That means I sign your timesheets. And I like the t-shirts, too."
"And Julian?" I asked, glancing at the man who was already walking toward the door.
"Coworker," Alex said. "His company Apex is contracted just like you and Marcus."
"I'm the Driver," Julian corrected without turning around. "And right now, I'm driving. We're burning daylight. I want Lonna to see the cause of this ensemble."
I was suddenly very interested. "Unit 6?" I asked.
"Unit 6," Julian verified. "We've only been looking at data all morning. I want you to stand in the room and tell me if you feel anything."
"Why would I feel anything if none of you did?"
"It gets it out of the way," Julian answered, his smirk more pronounced on his stupidly handsome face. "I know you're dying to go there yourself."
I puffed out my cheeks. "I mean… you're not wrong."
We left The Barn and walked the short distance to the restricted sector. It was almost laughable at how different it all looked from the outside. We were just standing in a high-tech, black-box aesthetic of the research facility. Now we were standing in a suburban cul-de-sac in "Anywhere-ville," where the families would probably be named Smith and Jones.
Dave led us to Unit 6 by turning the knob on the front door and pushing the door open.
"Unlocked?" I questioned. "That is unexpectedly analogue.
"We currently aren't testing any smart locks. We reconfigure the homes to remove anything that might add unnecessary noise," Dave explained.
I stepped inside and braced myself for… something. A hum? A shiver? A stargate?
What I got was… beige. It was just a house. A very nice, very empty house.
"Well," I said, walking into the living room. "It's impressively clean."
"It's been cleared to isolate the rogue data," Marcus said. He moved up beside me, his arm brushing against mine, a familiar weight that instantly grounded me.
I approached the kitchen island—the supposed epicenter of the anomaly.
"Stand there," Julian ordered. "Place your hands on the counter," he continued, his voice dropping an octave. "Close your eyes."
I hesitated for a fraction of a second, my rebellious streak flaring up. But curiosity won out. I placed my palms on the cool quartz and closed my eyes with my mind drifting to several inappropriate places.
Is this something he should be doing to me with spectators?
"We know the sensors are drifting," Julian said softly. He moved closer. I could hear his breathing. "We know the atomic clocks are desynchronizing. But biological systems are messy. They're analog. I want to know if your nervous system picks up what the digital sensors are missing."
"I don't feel anything," I whispered.
"Focus," Julian commanded. "Ignore the ambient noise. Is there a vibration? A frequency shift? Does the air feel… thick?"
I focused. I reached out with my senses, trying to find the pinhole, the gravity well, the glitch.
"Null result," I admitted, opening my eyes. "Did anyone else?"
Julian just looked at me with a mischievous grin. I looked around at Marcus, Alex and Dave, who were all trying hard not to laugh.
"You're all just messing with me, aren't you?" I sulked.
But the dam broke for the others and I chuckled a little myself.
"You okay?" Marcus asked, still snickering. He stepped in between me and Julian's line of sight.
"I'm fine," I said, leaning back into his hand. "Just… underwhelmed by the apocalypse."
"We need a new way to measure the apocalypse," Alex said, moving to stand next to me. "But first, we need food. It's 2:00 PM."
Dave perked up at the mention of food. "Hazing aside, how about we make it a team-building back at the staff housing? There's a barbecue area around the back."
"That sounds good. I can check on Nephy and grab some sunblock," I said, oddly aware that I just proposed putting on sun protection in the winter. "Besides, with Marcus and I living there, we can grab stuff from our kitchens for everyone."
"We all live there," Julian corrected. "Well, everyone but Dave. He has to commute back and forth for some other projects at GIG."
"He also fetches resources we might need to bring in from the outside," Alex added.
"So he's the corporate Fairy Godmother," I said, smiling at Dave.
"Why can't I be the really cool Sugar Daddy?" Dave asked, pretending his ego had taken a big hit.
"Because, I'm still 'The Bank.' So, technically, that's me," Alex answered.
Dave looked at me and said, "Don't worry, princess. This godmother will make sure you are flush with ironic tees."
I gave Dave a fist-bump and we walked out of the front door. Once outside, I stopped and looked at Dave. "We still have to wait for them to come out here, right?"
Dave nodded with a big smile.
"So much for our dramatic exit."
Julian stepped out first, checking his phone, radiating 'I'm busy' energy. Alex followed, looking effortlessly relaxed with his jacket slung over one shoulder. Marcus brought up the rear, scanning the perimeter like he was guarding the President, though his eyes softened the second they landed on me.
"Is it just me or are they like a Boy Band," I whispered to Dave. "Julian is the brooding lead singer who eventually goes solo. Alex is the heartthrob who ends up on reality TV. And Marcus is the reliable drummer everyone actually likes."
Dave snorted. "And me?"
"You're the manager trying to keep them out of rehab."
"Accurate," Dave grinned as we got questionable looks from the guys.
I giggle. It was our little secret.
Julian let everyone pile into his personal vehicle and we were soon back at the rowhouses. I hadn't been around the back, so I noticed it had a communal patio area for the first time. There was a high-end gas grill, an outdoor prep area with running water, and a fire pit that looked like it had never been used. It was basically a gourmet kitchen brought outdoors.
"You all don't go in halfway on anything, do you?" I muttered.
"I'll grab the food," Marcus announced, heading toward our unit. "Lon, you should go check on the monster."
I ran upstairs to Unit 3. Nephy was sitting in the window, judging a squirrel. When I opened the carrier, she let out a chirp of indignation but allowed me to scoop her up. I brought her down to the patio, where Marcus had set up the tent Nephy used the first night.
Before rejoining them, I paused and observed the group. It was clear the dynamic had already shifted. Marcus had commandeered the grill and was seasoning burgers with the focus of a bomb technician. Alex was wiping down the outdoor table with a handful of paper towels. Dave was setting up a portable speaker. And Julian was standing at the prep table, expertly chopping, slicing and crafting gourmet side dishes.
I put Nephy in the tent and sidled up to Marcus. "Julian cooks?"
Marcus nodded. "I told you I was taking lessons."
"Him?"
"He owns one of the most exclusive restaurants in the Bay Area," Alex said. "Ember & Vine. We should go sometime."
"Just because I own my t-shirts, doesn't mean I know how to make them," I responded.
Marcus chuckled. "That is a terrible comparison."
I shrugged and crouched down by Nephy's tent. "Dave, Alex, this is Nephthys. Goddess of the Night and Invisibility. Nephy for short."
To my surprise, Julian extended a single finger through a small gate at the front of the tent. Nephy rubbed her cheek against it, purring loudly. "Maybe she remembers you from the plane. She usually hisses at people who wear cologne."
"It's aftershave. And it's oud wood and bergamot," Julian corrected, scratching Nephy behind the ears with surprising gentleness. "And animals prefer apex predators. It makes them feel safe."
"Or she knows you're the one who can pay for the high-end tuna," I countered.
"Technically," Alex called out from the table, popping the top off a sparkling water, "I pay for the tuna."
"Details," Julian murmured. He looked at me, his hand still on my cat. Then he pulled his hand away from Nephy, and she let out a little "mrp" of disappointment. After scrubbing his hands, he resumed cooking next to Marcus. The rest of us gathered around a table that looked like it was part of a glamping series, and I shared my favorite beer with them.
It was strange. If you looked at us from a distance, we looked like a group of friends. But up close, the tension was a tangible thing—a web of history, money, and intellect, all spinning around the same center.
When the food was ready, I sat between Marcus and Alex. Julian sat opposite, watching me eat like he was collecting data points on my preferences and chewing velocity.
"So," Alex said, passing me a plate of grilled vegetables Marcus had made specifically because he knew I liked them. "About the wardrobe. Since I'm the Bank, I feel I should have a say in the investment."
"I'm keeping the t-shirts," I said around a mouthful of zucchini.
"Keep them for the weekends," Alex negotiated smoothly. "But for the lab? I'm thinking… structure. Clean lines. Maybe a blazer that doesn't look like you slept in it."
"I happen to like the way she looks when she sleeps," Marcus said, flipping a burger onto Dave's plate with a little more force than necessary.
I froze mid-bite, aware that I was blushing. The table went quiet.
Dave coughed. "Okay, moving on. Timeline. We start real testing at 0800. What's the plan?"
"We find a way to prove the pinhole exists," Julian said, ignoring Marcus's comment entirely, though I saw a muscle twitch in his jaw. "If Lonna is correct with her hypothesis—and we're all proceeding like that is the case—we need to find something that measures it before we can build and test a new device for doing so. We need to measure the event horizon of the information lag."
"I have an idea for that," I said, wiping my hands on a napkin. "But it involves… well, it involves a lot of mirrors. And maybe a laser."
"We have lasers," Dave said.
"Like… a lot of lasers."
Alex smiled, leaning back in his chair and resting his arm along the back of mine. "Lonna, look around. You're sitting with the GDP of a small country. Buy all the lasers you want."
"Use the card," Julian added, pointing a fry at me. "But buy clothes first. We're not saving the universe in sweatpants."
"They're yoga pants," I corrected.
"Even worse."
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help but smile. As the sun went down and the fire pit crackled—efficiently, thanks to Julian—I looked around the circle.
The Boss, The Bank, The Muscle, and The Driver.
And me. The Skeptic in the yoga pants.
"To the Baseline," Alex proposed, raising his beer.
"To the Baseline," we echoed.
I clinked my bottle against Marcus's, then Alex's. Across the table, Julian didn't toast. He just caught my eye, studying his prey.