I hit the smart group first. Not wanting to interrupt, I hung back and listened. The debate was rather heated and they were trying to decide if it had been a pocket dimension, a portal, or a something I’d never heard of involving a whole bunch of PhDs’ names stuck together. Back in school, I had test scores high enough to get a MENSA invite, but this stuff was way over my head. Cody saw me and gestured for me to approach. He pointed a dry-erase marker at my heart. “You. Earl said Franks mentioned Decision Week?”

“He did, to someone I think was from STFU. Then the major at Dugway talked like the containment unit was left over from it.”

Cody turned his dry-erase marker on a bald Israeli. “See? I told you this had Decision Week stink all over it.” The burly, bushy-haired Vietnam vet turned back to his dry-erase board and began writing more numbers and symbols. “So, the question now is, whose work are we dealing with? Weiskopf? Silverman? He loved summoning things from Planck space. God help us if it was Hampson and his neurobiological demon bondings. Yuck.” Cody shuddered.

I sure hated to interrupt all that calculus. “Is this like what they did during Decision Week?”

Cody laughed. “Decision Week wasn’t the project. It was the end result. The name comes from the week that everything in Los Alamos went batshit insane and the high command decided that atomic weapons were less dangerous. They pushed the boundaries of science until they blurred into magic and then into something beyond that. It was madness.”

“But does any of this sound familiar?”

“Z…” Cody put the cap back on his marker and turned around to face me. “They tried everything out there. It is so damn top secret that even though I’ve worked on the DOE contract for the last twenty years, I don’t know a tenth of what laws of the universe they violated.”

“I’ve been a scientist most of my life. I believe in the pursuit of knowledge above all,” said an unfamiliar man with a proper British accent. I realized that he was one of the academics from the ICMHP curriculum. At least some of the non-Hunter guests weren’t totally useless. “But what they did there? Bugger that. I’d rather go back to rubbing two sticks together to make fire.”

“They poked God in the eye,” said the Israeli. He made a two-fingered poking motion, like unto the Three Stooges. “Poink. He was not amused.”