Dr. Al Smyth wasn't reckless. He was brilliant. At thirty-five, single, and holding a PhD in physics from Caltech, he had already worked at CERN and helped MIT push the world's first human-scale teleportation experiment toward reality. He'd solved the lattice-stabilization problem, ironed out every glitch, and trusted the math enough to volunteer as the first human test subject.
The countdown hit zero. The lights flashed. Pod 1, the sending pod, stood empty. Pod 2, the receiving pod, stayed dark. No Al. No signal. No explanation. Someone in the control room finally whispered the only question anyone could form: "Where the hell is Al?"
Al knew.
He woke up on a cold beach near the mouth of Gorham's Cave in Gibraltar — only the world around him wasn't modern. It wasn't even close. He was surrounded by a band of Neanderthals built like the Rams' defensive line, led by a sharp-eyed woman who seemed to be in charge. They examined him, decided he wasn't a threat, threw an animal skin over his shivering shoulders, and led him into their cave.
Al looked like a frail adolescent beside them, but he wasn't helpless. He'd been an Eagle Scout. He knew first aid, fire discipline, toolcraft, and how to keep people alive in the wild. When he treated a young clan member with a badly infected leg wound — likely the son of the leader, Ka'ren — everything changed. Respect grew. Trust followed. And slowly, impossibly, Al became useful.
He taught. He learned. He adapted. The clan benefitted from his presence, and he benefitted from theirs. In a world where strength meant survival, Al discovered that knowledge, compassion, and ingenuity were their own kind of power..
