This story is dedicated to my dear friend Mr. Olin, whose mind is a harvest field of ideas, and of which without the influence from, I may have never come to become who I am now.
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The day was bright and sunny, the field slopped down at a gentle degree. It was filled with flowers and bubbles. The bubbles were being produced by two young children, one boy and one girl. They were laughing and giggling, their age uncertain. They stared in awe at the color that swirled over the facet of the bubble, the small intriguing sphere of solution. Their young minds wandered at the queer possibilities that often enter the minds of young children. They were currently both discussing the peculiar thought that there might be little men living on this frail construct. They toyed with the concept of a different time span concept on the bubble-world. Like one of a human second was a million-bazillion years on the bubble world. They thought about all those many many many numerous little theoretical people living and dying in the span of seconds. Then the small bubble popped, splintering their concept of a different reality. They couldn't figure out what had happened to all those people destroyed in a fraction of a second. They stood, dumb-struck for a moment, then the serene silence was broken by a shrill scream that foreshadowed gushing tears. The sound came from the little girl next to the boy. She screamed and cried, sorrow becoming her, filling her soul, sorrow for all the little people destroyed in milliseconds. The boy tapped her shoulder gently. She stopped her crying and looked at him. He smiled and pointed out at the new cluster of bubbles he had created. She smiled and clapped happily. The foreign thought fleetingly danced from both of their minds as they dashed off through the flower filled meadow, through the bubbles, destroying what they had created. So delicate, so frail, so interesting, so... intriguing, their small creations. They smiled at the small perfectly round orbs that hovered through the air, gently carried by the wind. Suddenly the image expanded quickly from the center, darkness filling the void of space. The dream disappeared like the bubbles that had just recently filled the scientist's mind. He woke up violently, tiny spots of light dotting his vision as his eyes went from total pitch darkness to brilliant bright lab lights.

Adrian Miller rubbed his temple, then his eyes. He was twenty-seven years old and a slave to the Government. He was working to design a way to create and sustain wormholes in space. His work had been slow and yielded virtually no results. He had found a way to create a wormhole in the confines of earth's atmosphere. It was small but spanned the distance of his lab, nearly three hundred feet of testing equipment, and computer power. The buzzing of a fly usually accompanied him in his hard hours of 9 pm to 7 am. Now the fly was gone, victim to an experiment gone wrong. He had managed to create a wormhole on six occasions, five full successes. The first was short lived, only long enough to glimpse it. It was an exciting achievement to say the least. He wasn't too impressed with it, but kept funds flowing from the Government. A small black opening had come into existence, the light around it bending to make it look like water when it is just barely flowing into the reaches of a drain. Adrian reported it to the Committee, and they were thrilled, but it didn't show the way he wanted it to. Dang emotionally controlled Government units. Nearly one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in the form of a check had come in the mail the following day. The envelope simply read, from: The Government, to: Dr. Adrian Miller for: Wormhole Research. The letter had been only two lines long and is as follows; Good work, Dr. Adrian. Continue your research. Then to the bottom left it read, the Government.

The Second attempt was a complete success. He created, one sustained wormhole traversing three hundred feet. It looked the same as before, as he had hypothesized, almost prophetically. He video taped the event with great interest. His fly companion seemed interested in the hole in the space of the lab and flew into it. It appeared on the other side of the laboratory, caught on video. Only a minute latter, the fly traversed space and time, moving back through the rip it the space-time continuum and and reappeared only a second later on the other side, at the opposing end of the lab. It was a greater achievement than before by far. It had sustained itself, it transported a fly over three hundred feet in less than two seconds, the fly was unharmed, and it was all recorded and verifiable. The following wormholes lasted longer than two minutes, sometimes much longer. Number Four lasted nearly two hours and was stable until it's sudden collapse. Although he could create wormholes, just because they traversed empty space didn't prove anything but the theory that they were possible. And it also entertained more money. Number five actually opened inside the lab, but Dr. Adrian couldn't find the exit hole. All was answered when a bat flew through the rip. It had crossed one thousand feet of solid ground, making it's way to the surface, and had enlarged itself. However great these achievements were however, he wasn't finished until he could create them on demand and control the size of them and the time in which they lasted.

Number six. The wormhole that unveiled the potential dangers of their use, and shed light onto the importance of sustaining them for greater periods of time. Number six was a bit of a disappointment. It was smaller and irregular. He didn't predict that it would last long. He was right.

Over time the fly that had annoyed other budding scientists before him, had become a friend, if such company the fly provided the young scientist during his long lonely hours could be called friendship, then it was. The buzzing reminded him that he wasn't alone and there was something else with him now. It was insanitary and had the fly been with him on any other floor, it would have been exterminated long ago. He figured it's death wasn't far from the current time, unless it was a test subject of one of the upper floors. He was sad when it's untimely demise came to pass.

As before, number six was unnaturally small and irregular. The fly apparently had some need to cross the span of the room to the other side, and this queer, but now trusted opening provide an energy efficient way of reaching his destination. Adrian had observed the fly's action without much thought on the subject matter. But when a defiant crack resounded throughout the lab, he looked up, quite startled. He found the wormhole collapsed and the fly gone. His mind raced with the possibilities, all theoretical of course. He grieved for a few minutes and returned to his work. This event was not entirely tragedy and sorrow. The fact that the probability of the hole collapsing while the fly was in it in the space of a single second was highly unlikely. The fact that it happened, lead Dr. Adrian to believe that a different concept of time existed inside the wormhole.

The silence that now pressed upon him was almost unbearable. He was still groggy from his dream to the past. To his childhood in fact. He was rubbing his eyes when the Idea struck him. A way to sustain the wormholes and define the size of it, but not the place of exit. Not yet. But that would soon come.

That same night, Dr. Adrian Miller, devised a devise that consisted of four prongs that could retract to become lessen the space between the prongs or extent to make the space between them bigger. He quickly mounted the contraption to the table and attached the appropriate motors and radio control device. Number seven, lucky number seven.

Number seven was the longest wormhole yet. It theoretically could last indefinitely as long at the prongs held. Dr. Adrian was excited, to say the least. It probably doesn't even begin to cover the extent to which he was jittery. But his discovery would have to wait till the morning, when key government officials, presumably the benefactors of his work, would be rising, then traversing the space to see what he ad accomplished. He performed a small test and passed himself through it. He timed it with a stop watch. He entered at 3:07:01 A.M. and exited at 3:07:02 A.M. His stop watched showed that it had been a bit shorter but he decided to round up. He was unharmed and at the other end of the lab. The trip was uneventful. The inside of the hole was white except for the corners of the square passage. The tips of the Prongs, which stuck out slightly, had extended or stretched, forcing the wormhole, no matter how strong, to remain open. His greatest achievement yet.

The Government Officials arrived at seven o'clock, sharp. He demonstrated the wormhole again, number 8. They were greatly impressed with the achievement. They ordered him to figure out a way to get from his lab to the top of the Empire State Building, using the wormhole. They said they would make arrangements to close the top level of the tower, so that the public wouldn't know. They said that he had two days to do so. That was as long as they could close the roof.

They left at seven thirty, again, sharp. He left with them, returning to his apartment. He found a bottle of Bubble solution from his niece in Wyoming. He enjoyed his 5 year old niece's presents. They reminded him of his childhood. He blew a few bubbles, his dream coming back vaguely. He admired their round spherical shape and sighed as fatigue overcame him. He slipped the bottle of solution and the wand into his next day's work clothes and lay down and fell into a deep sleep.

When he awoke it was time for work. He rose and dressed in the next set of trousers, button-up shirt and white lab coat. He got in his car and drove to the one story building. He flashed his badge and entered into the building, grabbing a coffee on the way in. He stepped inside the elevator and hit the '100' button on the huge board of buttons. "Good morning Dr. Miller." The elevator said. He was the sole worker of floor -100. His stomach jerked slightly as the elevator began to drop into the depths of the earth.