Entanglement by Gregg Braden

one—the science department. One of the brightest areas was Peter Keller’s physics classroom, where he’d created his own private world, suffused by the scent of cigarette smoke and fragrant coffee that he was bringing to a boil in a lab beaker. There he was, surrounded by books, cups, and food wrappers, with classical music—a cassette labeled “Research Mix 45”—playing in the background.
    Peter lit a cigarette from the Bunsen burner and carefully placed it in a petri dish, his makeshift ashtray, then mixed the dark coffee with a bit of milk foam he procured from a silver cup and made himself a cappuccino. He removed a yellow disk of sugar cookie from a scale, pulled out a precision knife, and cut it into perfect quarters. All his actions were measured and exact, as if they were part of some solemn and solitary ritual.
    Peter rented a small apartment on the other side of town, but he was rarely there; no one realized how many hours he spent in this classroom, his after-hours sanctuary. No one realized what a loner he’d become.
    He ate a quarter of the cookie, then rearranged himself on his meditation pillow and closed his eyes.
    When he opened them again, he stared transfixed at the chalkboard in front of him before he picked up a small tape recorder and began speaking. “Pull up the Michelson-Morley experiment for review. Cross-reference the Schrödinger equation with the Pribram/Bohm holonomic model. Also pull up any additional journal reports on the Geneva twin-photon experiment.” He paused for a second. “If possible, find parallel examples dealing with quantum entanglement.” His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of metal clinking. Outside, he could see the chain-link fence shaking in the wind.

    The glow of the laptop screen illuminated Jack’s face as he stood in the gravel driveway of the school’s loading dock. The Skype window was open, but both Charlie’s and Ernesto’s names were inactive.
    Suddenly a message appeared on the computer screen with a beep: low battery.
    Jack whispered, “You’ve got to be kidding.”
    He snapped the laptop closed and studied the school building. Then he moved to the lit windows and started testing them to see if any were open.
    Peter stood at the blackboard, a cigarette dangling from his lips as loud rock music blared from his stereo. He stood, jotting notes in chalk, absorbed in writing a complicated mathematical equation. He’d paused to consider what he had just written when he suddenly heard a thud out in the hall.
    His face went pale as he turned and looked toward the door. He heard it again, louder this time. Someone was definitely there. He glanced at his watch, confused.
    He moved over to extinguish his cigarette in the sink, waving his hands to disperse the smoke. Then he lowered the volume of the stereo; the room was silent for a moment. There was more noise, followed by a light tapping sound.
    Peter picked up a mop from the corner, took a deep breath, and moved out into the hallway.
    Jack had wedged open an upper window transom enough to reach in with his arm. Using a stick he tapped the lock of the window below, trying to release it. It worked. He pushed open the window, grabbed his messenger bag, and began to climb in.
    At the same moment, Peter peered around the corner, at the end of the long hallway, holding the mop like a weapon.
    â€œHey!” he called.
    The sound of Peter’s voice took Jack by surprise, and he fell into the building with a thud, landing awkwardly on his left leg.
    â€œHey!” Peter yelled again. “What are you doing?”
    Jack said, “I’m sorry. It’s okay. I’m just trying to—”
    â€œThis is school property!” Peter said. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
    Jack rubbed his ankle, wincing in pain. “Look, I know it’s school property.”
    â€œYou’re breaking and