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He may have seen the photographs, and listened to Bern and Sir Richard trying to explain just what it was that they were doing there, but he still didn't understand what was happening. Bern had rabbited on for ages about wormholes, string theory, and the quantum nature of the universe, and Sir Richard had nodded helpfully in the background, but George had got lost at around the time the word "quantum" had first passed Bern's lips. All hopes of him actually getting a grip on what Bern was trying to achieve were, as far as he was concerned, gone.

All that really mattered, at that point in time, was that nobody had anything on him that was likely to prove dangerous or embarrassing to him. Except, of course, for trying to find ways of funneling more and more power down to the labs without actually blowing things up. That was a popular occupation for his tech staff. He had often wondered what they needed it for. Previously, he had simply decided not to ask questions. Now, he knew enough to be worried. The lab staff had all assured him with wide-eyed and sincere expressions on their faces that they weren't going to blow anything up, really they weren't, but George didn't believe them.

So, he thought, attempting to make sense of it all again. Every time we make a choice, we make all possible decisions, and go on into heaps of different realities. Then the waveform collapses and the cat is dead and alive at the same time. No, wait a minute.

George got up to make himself a cup of tea.

All he could really be certain of was that they were unlikely, in the extreme, to actually see inside the Kremlin or the headquarters of the KGB in Russia, as Sir Paul persistently thought they would. George wished he could block out all of Bern's and Sir Richard's assurances that Sir Paul was wrong in this regard as effectively as Sir Paul obviously did. If he could only convince himself that the project was simply based on trying to find out what the Russians were up to, he wouldn't have to worry about quantum and cats and suchlike.

This was going to cause him quite a few sleepless nights. He could tell.

What he really didn't understand is what quantum had in common with cats. He thought that if only somebody could explain to him what quantum was, and what kind of relationship it had with cats, he might be able to make some kind of sense out of it all.

Just as he was pouring himself a soothing cuppa, Harry Benson wandered in. "Hi, George," he said.

"Harry," George said, and went to one of the armchairs that Sir Richard had thoughtfully provided in each of the tearooms scattered around the place. Harry wandered over and sat down in the one opposite George. "What brings you up here?"

Harry shrugged. "We're kinda stuck. We've been trying to get some control over what we see, but it's not going too well. Half of them think that more power wil help, and the rest of us think that that would be like trying to tune a transistor radio by putting a more powerful battery in it."

George gave him a sharp look. "What's the likelihood of you lot causing an explosion?" he asked, dread flooding through him. In truth, he had no doubts about the answer to that question at all. He knew exactly what happened to a transistor radio when you simply shoved a more powerful battery into it. He had tried it as a boy.

Harry rolled his eyes. "In theory, none. In practice, we're bound to overload at least some of that equipment sooner or later, given that we keep trying to push more power through it all. Why?"

"Because my team are the ones who have to clean up after you lot, that's why. I don't want to have to send my team into a place where the sparks are flying and there is a chance of a secondary explosion."

Harry's eyes widened. "Oh, lord," he breathed. "That never occurred to me!"

It was George's turn to roll his eyes. "Obviously. Given that I saw a complete lack of safety switches in there, and any number of machines connected up in ways that could very easily cause an explosion if something went even a tiny bit wrong."

Harry slumped back in his chair, and started rubbing his temples. "This job would be so much easier if Bern could pay more bloody attention to safety," he groaned. "But no - it never occurs to him that things might go wrong. Not until afterwards, anyway."

George sighed. "Is there any way that we can persuade him to follow some ind of procedure? Some way of getting somebody more safety-oriented to look over the plans before he starts building things?"

"Not officially," Harry replied thoughtfully. "Anything that smacks of bureaucratic control over him reminds him too much of Mother Russia. He barely tolerates Sir Richard being in charge."

"I thought they got on quite well? It looked like they were quite good friends."

"I think Bern only cooperates with him because Sir Richard has convinced him that he'll get the funding if he files reports once in a while."

"Can't you sneak them in?"

Harry shrugged. "I do, whenever I can. But he gets very upset if you muck about with his plans without his approval."

George rubbed his temples. "Harry, I don't really understand what's going on here. I'm doing my best, but it's al going straight over my head. The only thing that I can understand in all of this is that sooner or later there'll be an explosion down there."

Harry nodded. "Yes," he agreed. "Look, there's very little chance that you'll be able to get circuit breakers into the equipment itself. Can you do something to protect the rest of the complex?"

George looked up at him. "That I can do," he said. "I'll get my staff onto it. Meanwhile, I'll go and have a chat with Sir Richard about isolating that section, so that at least we'll be able to minimise any potential damage. You realise, of course, that if Sir Richard gives his approval and I install the isolation doors, anybody who is actually inside the laboratories if there is an explosion will be trapped and probably killed."

Harry looked horrified. "You wouldn't do that," he said, a trifle weakly. "Would you?"

"In this place, it's them or us, Harry," George said ruthlessly. "You know what this place is like!"

Harry did know. The story of just why this particular building had been abandoned in the first place had entered the realms of folklore in the area. He started rubbing his temples again. "Oh, god," he said.

George gave him a sympathetic look. "You understand why I'm so worried about this?" he asked.

Harry nodded. "I just wish I knew what to do about it," he said, his head in his hands.

"Have some more tea," George suggested.

As Harry picked up his cup and took another sip, Sammi came running. "Hey, boss!" she exclaimed, "You wouldn't believe what they're doing down in those labs!"

Harry and George looked up at her. "They achieved something new, have they?" Harry asked.

"You'd better believe it!" Sammi said enthusiastically. "There's this big ball of energy or summat in the middle of the lab!"

Harry and George looked at eachother. "We have got to get a hazmat tunnel in place down there," George growled. Harry nodded his agreement, and they got to their feet to follow Sammi back down to the labs.

George's fear of whatever the researchers had done grew as he approached the labs. Their commitment to safety, and even to the basic principles of scientific research were, in his view, sorely lacking. They were like children with a roomful of toys, and he was thankful that they had all apparently decided to play together nicely. He would be much happier, however, if they behaved like the sensible scientists they were supposed to be.

Even before he walked in the door, George could feel the energy crackling in the air. His face drained of all colour. Slowly, he turned to Harry. "You remember what I said about explosions?"

Harry nodded.

"I'm going to go up to the security rooms and watch this over the cameras," he said. "I am not going to go anywhere near these labs again until they turn whatever they've got in there off, and dispersed the energy in a safe and controlled manner."

He turned and almost ran back up the corridor. When he was far enough away that he couldn't feel the energy anymore, he stopped and leaned against the wall. He wasn't surprised to notice that he was trembling violently. He breathed slowly and deeply in an attempt to steady his nerves.

As he calmed down and his fear was at least partly replaced by anger, he heard footsteps approaching. He looked around to see Sammi standing there. "You alright, boss?" she asked, concerned.

"I'm alive," he snapped, "no thanks to those fools back there."

Sammi grimaced, and they started to walk towards the security centre. "They are a bit slap-dash, aren't they?" she said.

"A bit? They're a disaster waiting to happen."

She opened her mouth to contradict him, and then thought better of it. "Yes," she agreed, "They are."

As they walked into the security centre, they saw that all the security personnel were gathered around, watching the activity on the main screen. The only person who saw the pair enter was the head of security, a man named Peter Trevail. George had only met him a couple of times.

"Mr H. is going to do 'is nut if that lot blows up," one of the men said conversationally, unaware of George's presense.

"Mr H. is going to do 'is nut anyway," one of the others replied. "An' I don't blame 'im, either. I might of only done sciences for my O levels, but even I can see a disaster when it's coming."

"Mr H," George told them, "has been getting ready to do his nut since he first saw what was going on in that lab." He shook his head slowly. "I'm going to get Sir Richard to approve a hazmat tunnel before I'll let any of my tech staff go anywhere near the labs again."

"Good idea," Trevail commented as everybody else jumped.

The main screen showed, as Sammi had described it, a big ball of energy. It was surrounded by what looked like four futuristic guns on stands, all of them aimed at the ball.

Shadows and patterns danced in the ball, like static on a television screen. George felt himself beginning to hyperventilate hysterically, and deliberately tried to slow his breathing. He was determined to watch this, even though he could see no safety measures in place whatsoever. He could also see Sir Richard standing in the background, watching with fascination.

"Boss?" Sammi asked, concerned.

"I'm alright," George snapped. "But that mob of lunatics aren't going to be once I've finished with them."

The patterns in the ball changed and shifted, as the scientists attempted to lock onto some form of signal - anything at all would have done at that point. Even the BBC would have been a welcome discovery.

George became aware that he was gripping the back of a chair so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. He made a conscious attempt to relax them.

The patterns in the static started to form an image, in much the same way as an old analog television set did when the tuner was on the edge of picking up a station. Something distinctly humanoid began to form on the screen. George began to think that the being was holding something - something fairly long. A spear or pole of some description.

Then, electricity arced across the room, jumping from piece of equipment to human to piece of equipment. Then it hit the security cameras, and they went dead.