Strong overhead lights glinted off the geodesic dome's bare copper superstructure. An ethereal mist formed in the centre. It began to glow then rapidly intensified to a blinding flash that flared across the watchers smoked lenses.
A young man - dark curly hair, full beard and a prominent nose under troubled eyes - coalesced from the mist and collapsed as the flash faded. His wrap-around, coarse-woven clothing evoked an earlier era.
"Get him out of there." The authoritative voice issued from a black cloaked man overlooking the tableau from a smoked glass enclosure. The watchers hurried to comply and half-walked, half-carried him to a waiting gurney. Momentarily the young man recovered. His lips moved.
"What did he say, doctor?" the harsh voice asked.
"I'm not sure, your Grace ... it sounded like he said '...all a glorious lie'."
Cardinal Yacob's mouth thinned. "He's in your care doctor. Make sure he talks to no one before his audience."
The room dwarfed its occupants. The young man sat nervously on the edge of a regally upholstered antique, surrounded by a multitude of ornate period pieces, each worth a small fortune.. He wore a white cotton shirt, grey slacks and plain sandals and though the beard had gone, the eyes remained troubled.
With a creak the massive doors swung in and a small man clad in white entered. Cardinal Yacob rose to assist his pontiff.
Pius IV waved him away. "Dispense with the protocol Abdul, this is too important." His voice was strong, his English precise. He nodded to the young man. They all sat.
"Perhaps, Tom," Yacob prompted, "you could begin by telling us what you meant by 'all a glorious lie'."
Pius IV raised an eyebrow at his Cardinal but Yacob kept his gaze steady on Tom. Tom's eyes flitted from the man in white to the man in black, eventually dropping his gaze to his scratched callused hands.
The pontiff steepled his fingers, leant forward. "You need not be afraid Thomas. We funded this venture because we want the truth. The truth, either way, will change millions of lives. That is why we need it first. Please...tell us?"
Tom breathed deeply, smelt olives, tentatively began. "Right now there is only one machine but the technology will improve and costs will fall. Three more will be built in the next five years. How long before we have a hundred?"
"Is this relevant," Yacob snapped.
Tom flinched, his distress evident from his vice-like grip on the delicate armrest. Pius placed a restraining hand on his Cardinal, spoke softly, almost intimately, to Tom "Please go on."
"In thirty years there will be thousands, each capable of sending back one person per day."
Pius IV sat back in sudden comprehension. "The multitudes!"
Tom nodded. "Even the disciples ... except poor Judas ... came to witness ..." He looked up into the now troubled eyes of the Holy Father.
"Surely not the man himself?"
Tom grimaced at the irony. "I can't be sure."