“What do you mean it’s all gone?”

               “Exactly what I said. It’s gone. All of it.”

               Gary was a tall man compared to the rest of the research team. He stuck his hands deep into the pockets of a white lab coat, jingling his keys. “You’re sure?”

               His friend and coworker nodded. “Quite sure.”

               “All of it?”

               “Mhmm. The data. All our research.” He gestured around the lab with papers spread all over the floor. “It’s all gone.” He picked up a blank piece of paper from the floor. “Well, most of it.” He handed the page to Gary. Gary read the few bits of printed text on the page, crumbled it into a ball, and threw it as hard as he could.

“Damn it! Thirteen years of research, and it’s all gone!” Digging deeper into his coat pockets, he jangled the keys harder than before. “We’ve got to have something. We need something to show them.”

“Yes. I know that, Gary. But I cannot give you what I do not have.” The entirety of the lab looked like a tornado hit it. Tables were overturned. File cabinets were emptied, and the contents strewed over the makeshift tiled floor. The removable tiles made it easier to run cables to and from their computers and other electrical equipment. Most of the wires were exposed, and some were sliced through with a sharp object. Gary would’ve said a machete, but even that sounded a bit too barbaric for him. None of it sounded like a plausible or reasonable explanation. Why would someone come in and destroy their research? If it really was a simple break-in? No. Someone specifically targeted them and their research. But what would they gain with the raw data? Or was it simply to destroy it, setting them back another thirteen years?

At this point, it didn’t matter. Gary knew, as did his research team, that if they didn’t recover at least some of the data sets in the next week, their project would lose all their funding. Not only would they lose their funding, but they would also be out of work. And anyone associated with the team? None would have any scientific credibility. A truck driving job seemed like a good career choice for Gary, especially if he couldn’t reconstruct the data.

His coworker, Dr. Winston Shankle, pulled out a pack of American Spirits and lit the cigarette. With the lab destroyed, it didn’t make sense to go outside to smoke. He inhaled quickly, almost causing him a coughing fit. “We all could use a drink,” Winston said, taking a second drag. “If for no other reason than just to clear our heads and figure out where to start cleaning up this mess.”

Not that Gary disagreed, but they were running out of time, and recreating all the data, or even part of it, would take round-the-clock attention. “While I appreciate your British sentiment of having a snort in the middle of a tragedy, I believe in our best interests, we’d best get back to work.”

Winston took another drag, threw the smoke onto one of the tiles, and crushed it. “You’re the boss, boss.” He winked at him, patting his shoulder as he passed by him. “Come on. You heard the man. We’ve got work to do.” He started turning up overturned filing cabinets. The ten other researchers began cleaning up. “First, let’s get all the equipment back in place. Then we can start sorting through the papers and other debris, right?”

Gary glanced around, watching his team cleaning up the space that a few hours earlier held the beginning secrets of teleportation. But now? Now, he’d have to figure out how to recreate thirteen years of data in a week. Perhaps he left some of the raw data on his laptop. Then he recalled how Winston insisted that he dump all the data recorded on his computer in the central server, which was now in pieces on the floor. At least, they all thought it was.

 After checking his watch, he watched the team digging through the mess, sorting and quickly organizing the lab. “Winston. I’ve got an 11 o’clock, and I’ll be back later this afternoon.”

“Right-o, boss. Okay, guys, on three. One. Two.” Winston and two of the researchers were lifting a server cabinet together. The thing probably weighed three hundred pounds, a tough lift for any average scientist. But Dr. Winston was a triathlete. He wasn’t a ‘normal’ researcher. The doctor liked the outdoors and movement. Sitting inside a lab was his passion, but he loved being out of the office. Winston wasn’t strong enough to lift it alone, but with help? He definitely took the brunt of the weight. “Three!” The cabinet teetered, almost falling the opposite way. But with each of them on one side, they managed to keep it upright. “Fantastic!” Winston exclaimed. Gary walked out, smirking and thinking of Christopher Eccleston as Doctor Who.