Page 4 of Taurus's Quest
The landings for the floors beneath his apartment had disappeared, leaving only the winding stairs that ended, no surprise, on the library level. Guess their guest had arrived—and at a most inopportune moment.
“Dude,” he groaned. “Can’t I at least put on some pants first?”
None appeared.
Guess he’d be meeting the green lady a little more naked than usual—and he didn’t mean just lacking clothes. No gun, sword, not even his pocketknife.
Sigh. “If I die, I hope it’s bloody and takes you forever to clean the mess,” he grumbled before stalking into the library.
Chapter 2
The simulation ran using the most up-to-date information on planetary positions. Circe leaned forward and watched as the screen plotted the trajectory for the asteroid that emerged from the Milky Way. Once more, the software showed it avoiding Earth.
Good, right?
Not for Circe, who’d been trying to prove an ancient mechanism of tracking astral events was just as accurate as their modern instruments. Again and again, the two systems showed much different results.
Circe huffed and leaned back in her seat.
Andreas, who worked in another department but seemed to always find a reason to be around, paused by her desk. “Ready to give up?”
“Just about,” she grumbled.
“I don’t know why you’re wasting time trying to prove we’re in dire danger based on what a relic indicated. A device manufactured more than a thousand years ago isn’t capable of being as precise as our monitoring systems.” Everyone in the National Observatory of Athens had heard of her presentation, where she’d put forth her—according to them, wild—theory that the asteroid named 8675309 Odyssey would shift its course due to a subtle shift in planetary positions and collide with Earth. There’d been laughter at her claim because, according to the other astronomers, even if the Milky Way had changed the force it exerted on their solar system due to the recently changed Ophiuchus constellation, it would take a long, long time before any noticeable movement in planets occurred.
Circe pursed her lips. “Our computers are only as smart as the data we feed them.”
“Data that is refreshed daily,” he reminded.
“Collected by computers with pre-set programming, meaning it’s not infallible.”
A comment that led to him snorting. “More accurate than this anchor thingy that you’re obsessed with. I don’t know why you’d believe it over what our telescopes and satellites can detect.”
“It’s called the Antikythera mechanism, and despite the differences between it and our data, I disagree. Whoever built it”—the original creator was unknown—“had an understanding of the cosmos that defies explanation. They were well ahead of their time.”
“A time long past,” Andreas scoffed. “I’d suggest you stick to modern science. Or don’t. It’s your job on the line, not mine.”
Not just her job, though. Circe bit her lip rather than blurt out her dire prediction that if they were wrong about the data, then asteroid 8675309 would cause a catastrophic event rivalling that of the one that killed the dinosaurs. Andreas had already mocked her enough for her theory. “I’m supposed to seek out threats to Earth from our solar system.”
“What threat? Every simulation we’ve run shows the asteroid is set to pass us by. The sun’s not showing signs of emitting any solar flares of note. What’s left? Little green men?”
“Don’t you mean gray?” she riposted, annoyed at Andreas, mostly because it fed into her doubt. Was she wasting her time? She’d been studying the Antikythera mechanism for months now. Even had a replica of one at home that did what it claimed. Predicted eclipses and planetary positions. Until recently, it had been spot-on. That all changed, though, when Ophiuchus began shining brighter. Since then, its results had been diverging from their collected data.
The sudden difference bothered. It didn’t help that everyone she’d shown it pointed out the age of the mechanical artifact and the fact the replicas of the device were based on an incomplete model. The original Antikythera mechanism, the size of a shoe box with intricate gears and dials that showed a precision that should have been impossible for its time, had been found in a sunken ship. Only a third of the mechanism was salvaged, but those who rebuilt it claimed they’d figured out the missing parts. Could be they’d not rebuilt it correctly, hence why she got differing results. Alas, the original plans for the device had never been recovered, so no one could be sure if the replicas were exact.
“Give your history project a rest and join us for some drinks,” Andreas suggested. “There’s going to be a live band playing at the bar down the street.”
“Not tonight. I need to feed my cat.” A lie. She didn’t own a cat, but without a proper excuse, Andreas would keep pressuring.
“And this is why I have no pets or children. I like my freedom.” Andreas laughed as he strode off. A handsome man, but much too arrogant and annoying for her to even contemplate dating. Not to mention, she valued her job more than a fling.
However, he did have a point. She needed a break.
She logged off and grabbed her things, slipping on her green cloak, an item she’d splurged on when she saw it in a shop selling vintage clothing. It covered her head to toe, the deep cowl of it welcome on rainy and windy days. She headed off on foot, her apartment being only a seventeen-minute walk—when she could travel the most direct route.
A grimace crossed her face as she noticed the road and sidewalk she used daily had been closed for construction since she’d left her apartment that morning. The inaccessibility led to her having to veer onto a side street that looked much like her own. Tightly constructed buildings, of which the main floor of some were given over to businesses, with the upper levels being used for residential dwellings.
As she strolled, a sudden clap of thunder drew her attention to the dark clouds overhead. She quickened her step, hoping to make it home before the storm unleashed. Alas, she remained still a good ten-minute walk from her place, seven maybe if she ran, when the droplets began falling. Not wanting to get soaked by the deluge, she ducked into the nearest shop. A tiny bell over the door announced her presence.
