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George's gut was tight with worry as he sat in his office, running through some plans and waiting for everybody to get back to him with word of their progress. He had grown to like Sir Richard, and all the folk working on the Project. The thought that it might be shut down was awful.

The phone buzzed. "We've finished it!" came Harry's excited voice.

George dropped the phone back into its cradle with an uncharacteristic clatter and banged his thigh painfully against the corner of his desk as he tried to go through it in his hurry, instead of around it. He cursed, and went out.

"They've finished," he announced curtly to Jenny, Sammi, and Jean. He didn't wait for them, but sucked them into his wake as he strode out the door and down the corridor. He'd been waiting for this all night, and it had only been with an application of self-control that he hadn't thought himself capable of that he had refrained from micro-managing the entire operation. Now, impatience carried him down the corridor so quickly that the three women had to run to catch up, and trot to keep up with him.

The atmosphere in the labs was tense as the four of them entered. Ringo was there, his arm in a sling, leaning against the bench. Jean rushed over to him and gave him a hug. He hugged her back. Then, she looked around, probably for Sir Paul. She seemed disappointed that he wasn't there, and then her face set with determination.

"You're going back, then?" Jenny asked softly.

Jean nodded. "Yeah. If Sir Paul had been here, I might have stayed."

Then, Jenny, Sammi and George caught sight of the portal. It was undiminished, and floated in front of them like a miniature sun. When he stared into it, however, George was not blinded by brilliance, for although it was apparently made up of yellow light, it was not blinding. Nor did it do anything to increase the temperature in the room.

George had seen images of it from the security centre, but it did not prepare him for the actual presence of the thing. He stared into its depths, and felt it stare back into his. It dazzled him. Mesmerised by its gaze, he felt it rummage through his mind, through his genetics, and then through the myriad worlds it was connected to.

Fear coursed through him as he sensed the infinite number of realities he could finish up in, and then he felt his fear influence the choice of worlds it drew forth, the possibilities which the portal might draw him to.

It was alive! He could not feel a consciousness driving the choice, but it was, nevertheless, alive. It was an alien thing, a creature. Fear coursed through him again, and he took a step backwards. This thing had no understanding of him. It had no way of comprehending his needs. It couldn't have!

Nearby, he heard a sob. Wrenching his gaze away from the portal, he saw Jean reach out towards it. "I don't belong here!" she cried. "I want to go home!"

Ringo took a step forward as well. "Take us home," he implored the creature. "We can't stay here any longer!"

The creature in turn reached out to them. George felt its loneliness wash over them all, and the emotion nearly drove him to his knees. Suddenly, he longed for the company of his own kind, and felt the creature's realisation that the beings it had encountered were not of its kind. He felt the unhappy sigh that, once again, it had not found the companionship it sought.

Then, he felt a wave of realisation emanate from the creature. Not all the people in this room were in the right place. They had to be sent back to where they belonged. It was...tidier that way.

George looked around the room with new eyes. Tools lay needlessly on workbenches, and he got a sudden urge to put them back into their correct places. A couple of empty pizza boxes sat on top of a large piece of electronic equipment. Some empty soda cans and a half-full bottle of orange juice were littered around the place as well.

As he watched, the technicians who worked there self-consciously started to clean up. The tools were put into their correct places. The pizza boxes and soda cans were thrown away. The bottle of orange juice was put into the miniature bar fridge.

Jean did not wait any longer. Ignoring everything and everybody around her, she lunged towards the portal. Ringo followed in her footsteps, and, as George watched, the portal seemed to reach out to them. It took them into its embrace, and then they were mere outlines, filled in with a peculiar kind of staticky light.

The outlines shifted. Jean became larger, lost her femininity. Ringo gained what had to be a greatcoat. Then, the portal spat them both out again. Everybody had been cleaned up and put back into their proper realities once more.

As George watched, a handsome man who looked remarkably like Jean appeared, with Sir Richard hard on his heels. All around the room, the security men raised their weapons.

"Lower your weapons," Sir Richard ordered them. "He's no threat to us."


John and Sir Richard sat on a bench in the garden attached to the building. The spring air was fragrant with the scent of roses and violets, whilst behind them, hollyhocks rose high into the air, hiding the ugly brick wall with a curtain of pink, red, and white flowers.

Bees buzzed in the flowers, and a bird flew about, collecting nectar from any flower it could find. John watched it, envying the simplicity of its lifestyle. Recent events had turned him about so badly that he wasn't brave enough to guess what was going to happen next. A bird didn't have to worry about what other members of its species were going to do, beyond making sure they didn't steal its nest, or its mate. The only things in its future were food and sex. A bird knew nothing of crime and punishment.

What he knew was that the life he had lead before was finished. He had never wanted to get drawn so deeply into a life of crime that he could not turn his back on it and walk away. But now he was a murderer. His wife's boyfriend was dead by his hand, and he wished that he could kill her, too. Perhaps he could go on the run, and hunt her down before Sir Paul caught up with him. What was going to happen to him after that was anybody's guess. He wondered if Sir Richard would be kind enough to give him a head start.

"I believe Sir Paul gave you a choice," Sir Richard said conversationally.

"What would you do with somebody like me?" John asked contemptuously. "I'm no use to anybody."

"Oh, I don't know," Sir Richard replied. "You need some training, of course, but I can think of a place for you."

John turned to look at him. "What sort of training?"

"Oh, I'm thinking that some basic training from the armed forces would be a good start. After that, we'll start specialising."

"What are you planning?" John asked.

Sir Richard turned to face him. "I want you to lead a team through the portal," he replied flatly. "The portal's closed, but Harry's working on getting it reopened again. I've also got a bunch of psychologists and anthropologists working on understanding the creature who returned us home, and the conditions required for us to use it."

John's vague plans for the future spiralled away again, and he didn't miss them. "Why me?" he asked plaintively. "You must have people who are better for this job than me."

"You've got a lot of potential, John," Sir Richard replied. "I don't want to see it wasted." He got up, and stretched. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go and see my old friend Sir Paul. We need to have a little chat."

John stood up as well. "Is he going to close the project down?"

Sir Richard shook his head. "No. I'll see to that, personally."