Before Tomorrowland by Jeff Jensen

STATIC ELECTRICITY crackled as she smoothed down her drifting strands of hair. That happened every time Earhart entered the wire transfer pavilion, and it always set her on edge. She was alone, and the room was quiet except for its signature low electrical hum. The dome was fifty feet in diameter with a round stage in the center, and at the center of the stage, a copper sphere prickly with gold rods like quills on a porcupine. They corresponded to scores of rods lining the interior of the dome. They reminded her of spikes in an iron maiden-another uncomfortable thought. She proceeded to the control panel next to the stage. Everything looked fine, but no matter how many times Tesla defended the safety of his landline teleportation system, Earhart was never comfortable with what it did.

She checked her watch and wondered what was taking so long on the other end, or rather, other ends. Plus Ultra had wire transfer relay stations hidden all over the planet, a project five years in the making and only recently completed. The technology, powered by batteries produced on the other world, was still glitchy, and they'd never used it to transmute and transport so many people at once. She took a deep breath and tried to shake off her worry. The men she waited for were probably dawdling, as usual. Scientists were never on time, but they could have made a special effort, given the circumstances.