16
Thursday April 26, 1792 – 9:30 a.m.
Fairhurst Castle, England
Wispy vapors of coffee-tainted steam floated aimlessly from Mack’s coffee mug and drifted toward the stone ceiling of the underground lab at Fairhurst Castle. Absent-mindedly, Mack reached over and took another drink of the warm, delicious fluid. Having worked through the night, Mack’s energy was beginning to wane. A cupful of hot coffee was just what he needed to keep him going for a few more hours.
Mack needed to go outside the confines of the lab this morning and at this time of the morning, he was confident that no one else would be outside the castle. Many of the occupants would be up and moving about, but work outside the castle walls usually didn’t get started until closer to noon. Although in the past the castle was filled with activity including armed guards at the towers and behind the crenellations that lined the upper walkway, nowadays, activity was minimal. Since the passing of the medieval era, this castle was simply a home, not a fortress to prevent enemies from plundering the land or its inhabitants. Since Ailsa and her staff were the only ones who lived here, most of the time, it was quiet inside and outside of the great stone walls. The lighthouse keeper usually checked the status of the beacon in the evening just before sunset, so he wouldn’t be out and about either. That’s exactly how Mack wanted it. He did not want to be seen or heard anywhere on the premises since an encounter with people from the past could have detrimental effects not only on their time but also on those of the future. Thus, Mack’s need for extreme caution.
Mack turned to check on the status of his experiment. Carefully, so as not to disturb the various chemicals and mixtures he had boiling and reacting in the glassware organized in a sophisticated array of glass tubing sitting atop the workbench, Mack made his way across the room observing, checking and examining each part of his experiment. Test tubes, boiling flasks, Erlenmeyer flasks, separatory funnels, transfer pipettes, volumetric flasks, beakers, burets, graduated cylinders, rubber tubing, Petri dishes, clamps, tweezers, safety goggles, chemicals, Bunsen burners, glass slides, microscopes and more made up the glass and metal Erector set that now housed what Mack hoped would provide him with a stable and worry-free future. If he could accomplish what he had set out to do, he could retire and do as he wished with the money he would receive for this major breakthrough in science.
Before Mack could continue refining his work, he needed to obtain more alkaloids. Amongst other needed chemicals, alkaloids were the main ingredient. Mack had found that a certain fungus contained exactly what he needed in order to add that final “kick” to his drug mixture or cocktail. That was why he was here, in England in 1792. At this particular time and place, Mack had found the best, most potent form of the alkaloid he was looking for. Through careful research and observation as well as intense scrutiny surrounding his work, Mack had discovered that the alkaloids found in the fungi here in England in the late 1700’s were perfect for what he was creating. After much painstaking experimentation and perusal, Mack discovered several reasons why this was the case. For one, the growth of the fungi so close to the ocean helped to enhance its’ growth and added to the fungi’s potency. Secondly, the period in history was a major factor. Because of a lack of pollutants and because of man’s limited intervention with the environment, the fungi had the ability to grow freely without subtle changes occurring to its’ DNA by outside forces. Third was the specific area in England. The fungi just grew best here, period.
These fungi, or mushrooms, contain a chemical very similar to the neurotransmitter serotonin found in the human brain. The nitrogen-bearing alkaline chemical is known as psilocin or psilocybin. Mack had discovered through research and his own experimentation that the psilocybin actually reduced the reuptake of serotonin by the neurons in the brain that in turn allowed the neurotransmitter more time to act in the synapse. Because of that, these mushrooms acted as a hallucinogen. Of course, not just the mushrooms, but their combination with other chemicals and the processes by which Mack would create his cocktail would ultimately provide the drug for which Mack was striving. Mack’s excitement ran high. He was so close that he could almost taste it.
Turning toward the northeast corner of the room in which he had previously emerged from the “Bubble Chamber,” Mack made his way to a part of the wall that appeared solid. Moving a couple of crates in which Mack had packed much of his equipment, Mack exposed an area of the wall approximately three feet wide. Reaching up and pushing on an ordinary looking stone that was part of the wall and at the same time reaching down with his left hand and pressing on another stone at a lower level, Mack was able to release the latch that held this stone door in place. With a slight nudge of his shoulder against the rock face, the door began to move. A slight sucking sound occurred, as the vacuum seal was broken. Sliding on runners that had been carefully built into the stone floor, the huge door slid with relative ease into the wall. After having moved some two feet, the floor runner made a gentle curve to the left. The door followed the track and began to open toward the left as if it were on hinges. Once it was open completely, another wall that lined a tunnel that disappeared into inky blackness stopped it. A low, solid “thump” echoed down the long corridor as the door came to rest. A strong musty odor assaulted Mack’s nose and he grimaced. A cool, damp breeze lightly tainted by the smell of salt air drifted into the lab.
Somewhere, far up ahead, an opening led to the outside of the castle. That was where Mack was going. Mack had been outside before, but he had kept it to a bare minimum. He knew exactly where to go to obtain the needed mushrooms once he was outside and would make his journey there and back as quickly as possible. Picking up his backpack, a flashlight and donning a light jacket, Mack left the lab. Since no one else was around, there was no need to shut the huge door behind him. Starting down the tunnel, Mack’s shoes echoed off the stone walls.
The krypton bulb in Mack’s flashlight illuminated the tunnel ahead of him giving the false impression that it was daytime. Even so, the tunnel was dark enough and long enough that even that powerful beam couldn’t penetrate all of the darkness. It was as if a black hand were reaching out from nowhere and pinching off the beam of light in mid-flight. The portion of the tunnel Mack could see however, gave evidence that it had been there for centuries. Cold, discolored stones stacked one on top of the other and fused together by some ancient form of cement formed this underground walkway. The stones surrounded Mack. The floor, walls and ceiling were all constructed of them. The ceiling had been designed in an arch fashion to prevent it from caving in. Because of this design, the stones held themselves in place as the pressure and force of each stone rested one against the other. In several places, the walls exhibited areas of dampness. A slimy residue of mold, mildew, fungi and other nocturnally nurtured material clung to the surface of the stones. Mack had to watch his step since some of this slime was also present on the floor.
The constant clip-clop-echo, clip-clop-echo of Mack’s shoes reverberated through the labyrinth. Mack’s heartbeat had been turned up a notch, and his senses were on high alert. Although he’d been down this tunnel before, it still sent a chill up his spine. The utter lack of light, the smell of ancient stone, the exaggerated sound of every little noise amplified to an abnormal and unrealistic decibel level, the slime, the dripping water occasionally nailing him precisely on the back of his neck, the knowledge that he was hundreds of years away from home in a foreign land, his being underground with the constant possibility of being caught and trapped here for the remainder of his days made Mack aware of his fragility, his spider-web existence in the universe. Although his excitement at the prospect of completing this project was enough to propel him forward, there was still the uncomfortable churning in his stomach, the adrenaline-induced fear of the unknown that made him uneasy. In one sense, he loved working here. In another, he wanted to get it over with and get out before it was too late.
The high-pitched sound of something in the tunnel with Mack made him stop dead in his tracks. He strained to listen. His body frozen like a wax figure, Mack’s ears were nevertheless working at peak level. Attempting to detect every little sound made by every atom in the universe, Mack’s brain was straining out all the common and unnecessary noise and looking for that one sound that wasn’t supposed to be there. He stood there, his body tense. The only sounds he heard was the drip, drip, dripping of water and an occasional slight movement of air. Finally, after several minutes, Mack decided that the noise he’d heard was nothing more than his own imagination. Mack began to move forward once more. As he did so, he found himself looking not only ahead, but also behind, perhaps more than he wanted to admit to himself.
Another high-pitched squeal sent ripples of flesh down his back as if a stone had splashed into a pond. His stomach tightened into a knot, his mind raced and all of his senses went to Def Con 5. Then something landed on his back. Yelling, Mack jumped, reached over his left shoulder with his right hand grabbed at his coat and shook it violently. He could feel something heavy hanging onto his coat just below his left shoulder. The more he shook the tighter whatever it was held on. In a state of panic, Mack began jumping around trying to shake loose the thing on his back. His flashlight was bouncing so violently in the tunnel that it appeared as if he were having some kind of photonic sword fight with an invisible opponent. Finding that he was having no success in dislodging the unwanted passenger, Mack turned and ran his left shoulder into the stone wall. A squeal and an audible “crunch” met his ears. The tautness of his coat went slack and a soft thump sounded on the floor behind him. Jumping forward and whirling around to shine his flashlight on the thing, Mack’s light illuminated a dying rat. It’s body lay on the floor in a heap, twisting and squirming, tiny screams of agony retching its’ body. After a few more breaths, the rat stopped moving. A trickle of blood oozed from its’ mouth and ears and ran down between the stones of the floor. Mack shook his head and a shiver ran down his spine. Letting out a sigh of disgust, Mack kicked the rat to the side of the tunnel and turned around to continue his journey. Rats had never bothered Mack. In fact, he’d used several in experiments over the years. However, the idea of one jumping on him uninvited just gave him the willies. He couldn’t deal with that.
Walking another 200 to 300 feet, Mack came to a staircase that descended into the darkness below. Approximately 30 feet in length, it led to a continuation of the tunnel at the bottom although Mack couldn’t see that from his standpoint. As Mack carefully began to descend the steps, he noticed several damp areas, some covered with the same slimy fungi that he’d seen on some of the walls. He found himself having to walk with extreme caution so as not to fall and break his arm or head on the hard stone steps. Periodically shining his light overhead and on the walls ahead and behind, Mack noticed ancient torch holders mounted along the walls at specified intervals. Since there was no electricity in the castle, this was the means by which this tunnel had been lit years ago. Judging from the condition of the tunnel, Mack realized that it had been years since anyone had ever been down in this tunnel. Perhaps they didn’t want to come down, or they had no need to, but Mack figured that the most reasonable explanation for the lack of use was because no one knew it was here.
Mack had researched the castle’s history before deciding on using this underground lab for his experiments. In the castle’s early history, the Fairhurst family had guarded and protected the land for several miles around. The prominent placement of the castle near the sea and the close proximity of it to other smaller dwellings indicated that the castle was the main fortress used for protection throughout the medieval era and after. Over the years as wars and disputes diminished, the castle slowly became more of a home than a protectorate. Now, in 1792, it was just a home. Mack knew that the woman, Ailsa Fairhurst, who now lived here, was the heir of this grand habitation. He also knew she was single and that her home was still attended to by several servants and other inhabitants. Although he’d not met Ailsa, obviously because of the time factor and the potential for damaging history, he had, on occasion seen her. A few times when he’d been cautiously collecting mushrooms, he’d noticed her in the distance. Using his digital binoculars, Mack had taken some beautiful close-ups of Ailsa as she wandered around her home. He’d also gotten some great pictures of the castle and the grounds surrounding it. Oblivious to his photographic intrusion, Ailsa had no idea that Mack even existed. Mack wanted to keep it that way, although he’d love to meet her, if not for historical reasons, then simply because of her sheer beauty.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Mack’s flashlight attempted to penetrate the darkness ahead. Once again, the beam of light was able to shine only a few yards before being absorbed by the inky blackness. A thick black gauze enshrouded the light and hid it from view. Mack continued to walk, his light cutting away swaths of gauze with each step. He walked for another 200 yards or so before the tunnel made a sudden turn to the left. Angling at about a 45º angle, the tunnel continued for another 100 feet before turning once again to the right. Mack knew this tunnel since he’d been through here before. Still, it gave him the creeps to walk the ½ mile of darkness to where the tunnel ended. After traversing another 550 feet, another set of steps led down. This staircase was some 50 feet in length and like the previous had areas of damp, slippery slime that Mack had to carefully avoid. The smell of salt air became stronger as Mack neared the end of this tunnel. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Mack began walking the last 200 yards to where he would find the exit. As the gap between Mack and the exit shortened, the smell of salt air became even stronger. Finally, the beam of light from Mack’s flashlight hit stone and slowly began to grow in size as Mack got closer to the end of the tunnel.
Reaching his destination, Mack stopped short of the wall. On his initial visit, he’d not been paying attention and had walked off the edge of the floor into a pit three feet deep. Although he hadn’t been seriously hurt, he was still bruised and sore. At the bottom of the pit was an old rusty drain. Stepping into the pit and turning to face the direction from which he’d come, Mack shone his flashlight upward. The beam illuminated a ladder that was fastened to the stone wall some eleven feet above him. The ladder was about ten feet high and terminated at a ceiling of stone. Directly across from the top of the ladder was another ledge. By turning around on the ladder and carefully stepping across onto the ledge, Mack would be able to exit this labyrinth.
Stepping back up into the tunnel, turning around backwards so that his heels hung over the small pit and reaching up, Mack grasped the bottom rung of the ladder. Having placed the flashlight inside his backpack with the lens pointing out and the zipper tightened snugly against its’ edge, Mack was able to have some light as he climbed. By using his well-toned arms and pulling with all his strength, Mack was able to lift himself off the floor and into the air. Letting go with his right hand, he quickly reached up to the second rung and pulled. Then doing the same with his left, Mack was able to begin his ascent by pulling himself up rung by rung. When he was far enough up the ladder, Mack positioned his feet on the rungs below. Making climbing easier, Mack finished his ascent until his head bumped the ceiling. Carefully turning around, his flashlight askew and shining exactly where it did the least amount of good, Mack stepped across the empty space beneath him and carefully placed his right foot on the edge of the ledge. Leaning as far forward as possible, he reached over with his right hand and felt overhead until he could feel the lower edge of the upper shaft. Using his fingertips to pull, Mack pushed off with his left foot at the same time and traversed the depths below landing solidly on the ledge. Standing up and stretching, Mack pulled the light from his backpack and shone it upward. Another two feet above him was a drain. Reaching up, his height a great help, he carefully pushed on the drain. At first, it didn’t budge. He tried again. This time it gave a little and then finally came completely loose popping out of the floor overhead. Mack pushed it carefully to one side. He then took off his backpack and pushed it through the opening. Reaching up, Mack grabbed the edge of the stone floor that surrounded the drain. Using his strength, Mack slowly pulled himself up and out of the shaft flopping over onto the floor as he emerged.
Pulling his feet out, Mack quickly began to slide the drain back to its’ original position. As he did so, a noise far overhead made him freeze. It was the sound of a door opening. Then he heard the telltale sounds of someone beginning to descend the long spiraling staircase of the lighthouse. Quickly turning off his flashlight and pushing the drain the rest of the way back into place as quietly as possible; Mack picked up his backpack and slipped quietly underneath the stairs. The few windows that were constructed in the lighthouse walls at periodic points overhead let enough light in during the day for someone to ascend or descend the stairs. At night, however, some sort of light was needed to see, usually a torch but sometimes the light of the moon when it was full and the sky was clear. Since the lowest window was a good fifteen feet above the floor, Mack was able to crouch down in the shadows where he hoped he wouldn’t be detected. A few minutes later, a woman, Ailsa, stepped off the last step. As she turned to go out the door, she stepped on the floor drain and a slight “thump” of it sliding fully into place echoed through the lighthouse. Mack’s heart beat faster. Ailsa stopped to look at the drain for a few seconds and then opened the door. Turning around once more, she eyed the drain and then finally left. Mack let out his breath that he didn’t realize he was holding and laid his head back against the cold, stone wall.
Finally, after another ten minutes, Mack extracted himself from his hiding spot and cautiously opened the door. Peering into the dissipating fog, he saw and heard no one. Stepping fully into the salt air, Mack took a long, fulfilling breath and slowly exhaled. The few rays of sun that were beginning to shine through the fog overhead sent shivers of warmth through his chilled body. Mack turned toward the castle and began walking. A few hundred feet ahead and to the right was Mack’s treasure-trove of alkaloids that he needed to finish concocting his cocktail.
Walking the short distance, Mack passed by several grazing cows. He’d noticed on prior visits that several cows wandered freely on the castle property. He supposed that they provided milk, cheese, butter and meat for Ailsa and her companions. Unknowingly, they also provided the medium in which his mushrooms grew the best. Walking slower now, Mack began to peruse the numerous cow pies that lay scattered on the ground like oversized Hershey’s kisses that had melted in the afternoon sun. This is where he would find the best specimens.
To date, Mack had found at least three types of mushrooms that provided the psilocybin that he needed, although there are many that contain the chemical. Of the three he’d found here, the one he needed most was more rare and more difficult to find than the others were. It had a reddish top sprinkled with white spots. This contained the most potent form of psilocybin to date. Mack leaned down by one dung heap and noted some mushrooms. These were blue topped and nearby he found some gold topped ones. Continuing to search, Mack’s patience was finally rewarded. Ten to fifteen mushrooms were growing from three cow pies that had been dropped next to each other. Crouching down, Mack noted the red top and white spots. Carefully removing a container and a pair of gloves, Mack began to pick the mushrooms and place them in the bag. Every few minutes, Mack looked all around him to be sure no one was watching him or coming his way. He’d trained himself to keep his senses on high alert when in situations such as this. Having picked all that were there, Mack moved on. After another few minutes, Mack found another beautiful patch of shroom specimens growing profusely from another melted Hershey’s kiss. Mack collected these as well and placed them in his container. After a period of 45 minutes, Mack had what he needed. Looking carefully at his container full of mushrooms, he noticed several of the first mushrooms he’d picked now had the telltale signs of dark blue stems where they’d been broken off when he picked them. That was a good indication that they really were the psilocybin-producing specimens he needed. A few further tests back at the lab would confirm his findings.
Mack checked his surroundings once more and then headed back toward the lighthouse. Reaching it without incident, he opened the door and stepped inside. Carefully opening the drain, Mack lowered his backpack into the shaft and then carefully lowered himself into it as well. Once inside, he reached up and slid the drain back into place. He then descended the shaft arriving back in the tunnel. Upon reaching this point, Mack began the slow uphill climb back toward the castle. He had his mushrooms, his Egyptian brains and a potpourri of other chemical elements that would be used to complete his project. Using some chemicals as catalysts, mixing others, extracting enzymes, separating DNA strands, breaking down cells and performing a myriad other steps would enable Mack to create the ultimate hallucinogenic cocktail.
Upon reaching the lab, Mack shut the huge stone door. Removing the mushrooms from the storage container, he placed them in a drying oven to dry. He made several checks of the glassware apparatus that was cooking, separating and mixing all the various elements needed for his drug. Checking his inventory of ingredients, Mack noticed that he was running out of salt water. This was a crucial ingredient necessary for the proper reactions in the synthesizing of his drug. However, not any salt water would do. After much trial and error, he had found that he needed the salt water found just off the coast of Florida. For some reason, the water there in the Atlantic Ocean was better suited to providing the reaction his drug needed. Being on the edge of the Bermuda Triangle, Mack had ascertained that there was some sort of magnetic field or magnetic interference that affected the water. That also helped to explain the strange readings pilots and captains often got on their instruments when traveling through that area. Unfortunately, many of them had disappeared because of being unable to navigate properly due to the strong interference that occurred. After much research, Mack had decided that being on the deck of the SS Marine Sulphur Queen at night to collect his water during a tremendous storm would be to his advantage. For one, the crew would be concerned with the storm and not with him on the bow. Two, it would be dark and three; the water splashing over the edge would make collection much easier than trying to actually get into the sea. Realizing that his supply of water was low, Mack decided he was going to have to make another trip to 1963 in order to finish his experiment.
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