When Tom O'Brien discovers a magazine article featuring a ranch family in western Alberta, he is captivated by the resemblance the Tungstalls bear to the Milto family he knew in the past. While it is said that everyone has a double, O'Brien believes an entire family having a mirror image is beyond coincidence, especially when the family he knew existed nearly fifty years ago.
Follow Tom O'Brien in his quest for answers and his mission to ensure his life is not destroyed by a time dimensional warp. Live with a modern day rancher and his family as they travel to the 1960's to spend fifteen years in the past, making friends and riding herd through two lifetimes.
Fearful apprehension haunted the faces of the two adult occupants of ultra sterile quarantine rooms as they paced restlessly about the brightly lit, very private, test lab. A third person, an effervescent young lady of, perhaps, sixteen, with luxurious auburn hair hanging down to her slim waist, presented a look of suppressed excitement. Her blue eyes sparkled as she alternated her gaze from her nervous senior companions to a rather large volume she scanned with apparent preoccupation. The trio wore thin synthetic one-piece white suits, which clung to their bodies like a painted veneer. Short anklet socks and gloves of the same material served as foot wear and hand protection.
Outside the chamber, separated by an imposing wall of one way plate glass, a second group of people in various stages of anxiety struggled to restore a communications link with the quarantined area. Two communications experts exchanged verbal innuendo as to who might be responsible for the glitch. The elder of the pair, a no longer pretty woman of forty-something, ranted, while her colleague, a beleaguered man perhaps half her age, frantically sorted through a black Platt laden with test equipment and tools. Meanwhile, Otto Kronburger, a slight framed balding fellow wearing heavy dark rimmed spectacles and a white lab coat, sought the source of the damage. Kronburger was aided by his younger, similarly clad assistant, Larry Doolittle. The professionals remained calm though they were under far more pressure than the quarrelling pseudo-technicians behind them.
Removed from the immediate area, a tall, distinguished gentleman with a full head of dark hair ―showing only a hint of grey― and wearing an expensive three-piece suit, conversed in low tones with the third member of the lab coat threesome. Tom O'Brien acted as liaison for this highly covert project and through him funding from government coffers had been made possible. O'Brien, now in his fifties, had spent most of his career in the federal government circle. His most recent post, prior to taking interest in this project, had been Canada's ambassador to the United States. Known and trusted by Canadians nationwide, 'Tom O'Brien' had become a household word in his homeland and, in fact, throughout the political world.
“If the comm. link is not restored in time, they know the drill, Tom,” Bill Spencer, the director in chief, spoke with unconvincing assurance. “When the green opal lights up they will move into their assigned TDSM's and the dimension shift will begin. Remember, we've done this successfully thirty-six times without failure,” he added.
Tom O'Brien glanced at the digital countdown timer stationed above the heads of the communications duo. “Seventeen minutes,” he said. “I would have liked to say one more last minute goodbye.”
“Well, you'll be able to say 'hello' in,” the scientist did a quick mental calculation, “75 minutes. That is when they return, although they'll have been gone fifteen years in shift time.”
“Fifteen years!” Tom repeated. “Shift 58 minutes and add 15 years to your life? I just cannot wrap my head around that. Indeed, a brief time in history.”
“An abstract application of what physicists refer to as the Twin Paradox. Incredible, isn't it?” the project director said.
Spencer stepped toward the quarrelling communications people.