by Wendy Devore
“We need to prep for far-slice travel immediately.”
“Uh, hello to you too,” I replied wearily, wrinkling both my brow and my nose.
“It’s urgent,” he insisted.
I was just too exhausted to deal with the cloak-and-dagger. I glanced around the room to make sure we were alone.
“What the hell is wrong with you? First you stab me, then you kiss me, then you run off as if I’ve got the plague. Now you insist we do something dangerous enough to kill us both? I’m not ready! I don’t know if I can reliably get us out. We need more time with the data. We need to wait until the fMRI is up and running, and I can get more resolution—”
“There’s no time,” he reiterated, his voice low and calm but firm. “We’ve done something—I’ve done something—and I have to try to stop it.”
He grasped my left hand, which was still throbbing and tender from the day’s multiple encounters with the Bug. He gently outlined the hot red welt on the back of my hand with the tip of his finger, fixing my gaze with his intense stare. Intense shivers radiated down my spine and the remembered sensation of his hands on my skin from that unfortunate dream echoed throughout my traitorous body. I impatiently pushed the unwelcome thought from my mind and pulled my hand away.
“What? What have you done now?”
Andrew flinched. Had I touched a nerve? But then, before I could be sure, it was gone.
“The last slice that Lily and I infiltrated was in the midst of an ecological disaster. Ever since I’ve been back, I can see the effects—the heat wave, the choking smog, the nearly constant Spare-the-Air days. But the situation just grew more urgent. There’s a monster hurricane developing—a superstorm—and it’s bearing down on the east coast. If it’s as big as they say, and if the path of the storm really follows the projection, most of coastal New Jersey and New York City will be destroyed. Tens of thousands could die. And between the winds and flooding, who knows how many homes will be destroyed. Hurricane Katrina displaced more than a million people. This storm could be much, much worse.”
I shrugged and shook my head. “Isn’t that a little melodramatic? It’s just a weather forecast. They change all the time. And what makes you so certain that you caused this? Or that you can do anything at all to change it?”
“The surface water temperature of the Atlantic off the eastern seaboard is much warmer than it should be. Warmer than it ever had been before, by several degrees. And the starting sea level in New York harbor is thirty-one inches above 1900s level—but last month I know that the sea level rise in that city was only thirteen inches. My travel rewrote history, and I need to fix it.” He stared at me intently. “I can’t do it alone, Kathryn. If I attempt it, I might not make it back at all.”
An invisible band around my chest tightened. We weren’t ready. I wasn’t ready. “What do you propose?” I asked cautiously.
“We need to find a far-slice where the environment is not already massively damaged,” he replied. “And we need to stay there long enough so that some eco-goodness can leak back into this reality. With any luck, we can turn back the tide, just a little. Just enough to avoid the carnage this storm is going to cause.”
“I’m not ready,” I protested again, but without any real conviction.
“I know,” he admitted, casting his eyes down. “We have at most eight days before the storm is expected to make landfall somewhere near Atlantic City. Go look it up—within hours it will likely become Tropical Storm Ophelia. The media hasn’t picked up the story yet, but you can bet the news will break any time. We need to move on this as soon as possible.”
I nodded nervously.
He returned my nod, staring a minute longer as if convincing himself that I would comply. “We slice tomorrow. Early.” He rose and strode from the room, nearly visible eddies of purposeful resolve trailing in his wake.
My head was spinning, and my stomach churned. The few bites on my plate suddenly seemed intensely unappetizing, so I dumped the remainder into the compost bin and trudged back to the lab. When I badged into the room, I could see Amir still seated at his workstation, slice of pizza in hand and a Dr Pepper within easy grasp, completely engrossed in some graphically intense roll-playing game. I poked him in the shoulder, and he pulled off his headphones.
“All hail the conquering hero!” A huge grin spread across his face. “Now that you’re fed and rested, you gonna let me in on the secret?”
“No time. Your boss just accosted me in the cafeteria. Apparently, we’re heading out again as soon as possible—and this time we’re going way, way out.”
“What?” Amir asked, confused. “We’re not ready…”
“That’s what I said. But he insists that New York City is going to be destroyed and that he’s the cause. He’s convinced he can somehow fix it.”
Amir’s confusion turned to concern. “Oh, man, that’s the big times.” He swiveled back to his workstation, killed the game, and relaunched the software development environment, opening files and typing furiously. “If the last round is any indication, we’re not going to be able to do this here in the lab. You’d better go catch some Z’s right now because what’s coming is going to be intense.”
“No,” I replied firmly. “If I’m staring down death, I need to see my sister.”
Amir shook his head, never taking his eyes off the screen or his fingers off the keys. “I can’t take you. There’s too much to do here…”
I put my hands on my hips and stood my ground. “I can drive, you know.”
“Hold on a sec,” he said, switching to his messaging app, fingers flying. “It looks like Janine can take you.”
“Fine, whatever. Tell her I’ll meet her at the garage bay in fifteen minutes.”
I stopped in my room to retrieve my phone and texted Michelle that I’d be home in half an hour, then headed to the garage. Janine met me at the door.
“So, are you in on this mysterious plan that Andrew has concocted?” I asked her as she retrieved a set of keys and activated the huge roll-up garage door. We climbed into the vehicle closest to the exit.
Janine looked at me sadly as she started the truck. “I’m so sorry, Kate—I really wish there was some other way.”
Something about her mournful expression made me drop my guard. “Do you think it will work? And do you think we’ll survive?”
The truck crested a small hill and bumped over the dirt track, the headlights casting ominous shadows in the darkness as we headed toward civilization.
“I honestly don’t know if it will work. I hope so, for our sake. And for Andrew’s. But as to whether you’ll survive—I’m afraid that you’re the key to that. How do you feel about your ability to extract?”
“Well, we’ve moved on from abject violence,” I admitted, feeling my cheeks flush. “But we know next to nothing about how it works. I’m terrified I won’t be able to get back myself, let alone bring him back with me.”
Janine pursed her lips as she turned onto the paved road and headed toward town. “The timing is not ideal. But if you two can achieve Andrew’s goal, you will have prevented a considerable amount of death and destruction. I hope you believe it’s worth the risk. And I hope you know that I’ll do everything in my power to protect you. And so will Andrew.”
“Andrew?” I replied quizzically. “He couldn’t care less about me. I’m just a cog, just some function in his great experiment. I’m nothing more than his ticket out.”
Janine approached my apartment building and threw the pickup into park.
“Don’t be so sure of that.” She fixed me with her maternal gaze. “I’ll be back to pick you up in half an hour. You are going to need rest. I expect you’ll have a very early morning.”
With a wave, she was gone, and I let myself into our apartment.
Michelle leaped from our shabby sofa, vaulted across the room, and enveloped me in a fierce embrace.
“Katie!” she mumbled into my neck. “It’s nearly midnight. Are you okay? I
’ve been so worried. Are you back to stay? Are you done at that place?”
I hugged her back, like it might be the last time. “No such luck. This is but a temporary reprieve.”
In her excitement, the asthma kicked in and she began to wheeze. She put up a finger, dashed to the end table, and took a hit from her inhaler. She took a deep breath before she continued. “Why are you back? Is something wrong? Did that asshat stab you again?” She eyed me quizzically.
It was then I noticed the television. A news bulletin had just interrupted the programming to alert the audience that a disturbance headed toward the western Caribbean had just strengthened into Tropical Storm Ophelia. I stared at the screen and felt my mouth go dry. It was happening, just like he predicted.
“Kate? What is it?” Michelle asked, turning to the television.
“This storm is not supposed to happen. Or so he says. He says that messing with the multiverse has made our reality worse, and that this storm will turn into an extreme weather event—a hurricane like no one has ever seen, and that it will kill a lot of people and destroy a lot of homes.”
I clapped a hand over my mouth. Michelle didn’t know any of these details—was I even allowed to say “multiverse?”
Michelle pursed her lips and shook her head. “It’s okay. I know about the slicing. And the Bug. Amir’s been keeping me updated. I signed the NDA too, remember?”
I released a long sigh of relief.
“But who is ‘he’? Is it Andrew? Katie, this is really messed up. I don’t think you should go back there. Maybe we can pack up and get on a flight back home. Lay low for a while.”
I sighed. She had no idea how much I wished that were possible.
“Andrew thinks he can fix it. But he needs me. It’s going to be dangerous. The kind of dangerous where I might not actually survive.”
“They can’t ask you to do that!” my sister replied incredulously, her big eyes widening even farther. “You’re not going to do it, right?”
“I think I have to do it.” I studied our familiar worn, gray Berber carpeting. I kicked at the weird stain in the shape of a rabbit that had been there since our very first day. I was nearly thrown to the ground by my sister’s unanticipated bear hug.
“I can’t lose you. Don’t go.”
My throat constricted and my stomach tightened. I closed my eyes and tried to remain calm. “Over a million people are in harm’s way. And it was my EEG trace that allowed them to reach the slice that caused this mess. I didn’t ask to be involved in any of this, but if there is a way to undo the damage, I need to try.”
My sister released me again and dropped heavily onto the sofa.
“Can you even do it? Can you actually make it out of there alive?”
When she looked at me, I could see tears welling in the corners of her eyes. My chest tightened, and my breath caught in my throat, but I fought to keep my own waterworks under control.
“I hope so. I did it again today. I managed to exit a slice.”
“How?” Michelle demanded, sniffling and wiping her nose with the back of her palm.
“I haven’t told anyone,” I mumbled, “but it happened when Andrew kissed me.”
“Wait, what did you just say? He kissed you? What did he say? What did you say?”
I plopped onto the sofa next to her. “Yeah, he did. And then we weren’t there anymore. We were back in the lab. Both of us. And then he ripped off his electrodes and bolted out of the room. It was the last I saw of him until he interrupted my dinner by demanding that we far-slice travel immediately.”
A Mona Lisa smile spread over my sister’s face as she sniffled and wiped away a tear. “Hell of a way to behave at your first job!”
I could feel my cheeks flush. “This is not my first job. I shoveled horse manure for Mr. Franklin for an entire summer when I was thirteen.”
Michelle eyed me doubtfully. “Kathryn, cut the crap. Why don’t you tell me what is really going on?”
The heat in my cheeks grew more intense, and I tried to suppress an unwelcome feeling of shame.
“If we are going to have this conversation, you are going to have to pour me something strong.”
She eyed me suspiciously and shook her head. “I leave you alone for a week and you get a boyfriend and become a boozehound?” she teased. But to my relief, she rose from the sofa and headed to the kitchen. She popped open a can of Coke and rummaged around in the cabinet. In no time she’d poured a pair of rum and Cokes that were heavy on the rum and light on the Coke. I attempted to compose myself, and when she handed me the glass, I immediately gulped down half of it, grimacing at the strong, sticky-sweet taste of the drink.
“I don’t have a boyfriend, and this is pretty much my second drink ever.”
Michelle snorted and tapped her foot. “Spill it. Now.”
It didn’t take long for the rum to do its job. Lightweight that I am, the one strong drink was all it took to ease my confession. But I still found it difficult to look my sister in the eye.
“I don’t understand what’s happening to me. When he kissed me, every fiber of my being cried out ‘No! No! No!’ Then suddenly all I felt was ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ Honestly, I don’t understand any of this. I don’t want it. I wish I could stay here with you instead of going back. If I go back—when I go back—it’s going to happen again.”
My sister gave me an impish grin. “Would that be so bad?”
I frowned. “I doubt that Andrew cares about anyone, including me, except as his ticket back to civilization, or whatever we call this messed-up reality.”
“So, he’s using you. But you’re afraid you’re falling for him?”
“No!” I snapped. “Definitely not. Well, maybe. I don’t know!” I scowled. “I feel drawn to him. But he’s a total enigma. I know next to nothing about him, or this whole disastrous scheme. I always imagined that some day I would get this stupid sleep disorder under control—find a boyfriend, do some awesome science, get married. Maybe have some kids. You know, lead a normal life. But dammit, Michelle, I’m twenty-eight years old and I’ve never been in love! I have no idea what it’s supposed to feel like. I don’t even know myself well enough to know if I am falling for him. I’m no closer to understanding or controlling my messed-up brain, I’ve ditched my college career, I’m working with a whack job at a black-ops facility, and doing some insane sci-fi experiment that frankly shouldn’t even be possible. This is not what I want. This is not how it’s supposed to be!”
Michelle shook her head, and the look in her eyes suddenly made her seem decades older than she was. “Nothing is ever like it’s supposed to be. You’ve told me how you want things to be. Now tell me how they are. Be real, Kate; this is me you’re talking to.”
I took a deep breath and considered my sister’s request. She was right. She deserved the truth, no matter how much I didn’t want to speak it.
“When he’s not around, I wonder where he is. When he is around, my palms sweat and I feel like every word I say makes me sound like an idiot. When I imagine his face, I feel…” I faltered, searching for the right word. “I feel completely and utterly undone.”
“Undone,” she repeated, giving me a hard stare. “That sounds serious.”
I placed my empty glass on the table and leaned my head against my little sister. My heart ached with the weight of my predicament.
“This whole situation is serious, in so many ways. I love you, Shell. Thank you for…well, listening to me. For protecting me. For sacrificing your whole life for me. If I don’t make it back, please make sure Mom and Dad know that I love them, too.”
At that moment, through the living room window, I could see the glow of headlights as a pickup truck slowed to a stop outside our building. I turned to Michelle and gave her one final squeeze. “I love you,” I assured her, and I darted through the door, before I lost my resolve—or my nerve.
Janine carefully maneuvered the pickup back into the garage bay. “You’re to be at Stanford Medi
cal Center no later than six in the morning for prep.”
“Prep?” I gulped. “Like for surgery?”
Janine smiled reassuringly. “We’ll draw blood, place an IV, that sort of thing. Someone will be by at five thirty to collect you, so you have a little under five hours to rest. Don’t eat anything. You should try to sleep, if you can. Oh, and wear comfortable shoes. And clothes you’re not too attached to.”
I reached for her arm. “Janine, can you…can you drive me? I could use all the moral support I can get.”
Janine smiled warmly, unfastened her seat belt, and reached across the console to fold me into her arms. I closed my eyes, and for a moment, it was my own mother’s comforting embrace.
“I know you’re going to be okay,” she whispered.
Back in my room, I threw caution to the wind and hit the sheets without bothering to meditate. I was exhausted, and I was going to eke out the most rest possible given the few hours I had.
The nighttime air is deliciously warm and sweet with the scent of jasmine. I am perched on a smooth teak bench in a beautiful courtyard surrounded by the most elegant example of Spanish Moorish architecture I have ever seen. In the center of the courtyard sits a grand fountain, water melodiously trickling from a large central chalice and falling playfully into the pool below. Four stately palm trees guard a gracefully arched double door leading into the home. My eyes follow their spindly trunks up past the terra cotta tiles of the roof up, up to the cloudless, inky sky where I can see the glow of the waning crescent moon and a sprinkle of stars. I feel completely at ease in this place, as if I’ve known it forever, and I never want to leave. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, and no thoughts trouble my mind at all. This place isn’t just conducive to meditation; it is peace personified.
I am sitting quietly, at one with the gentle patter of the fountain and the rhythmic chirping of crickets, when the door under the arch swings open. Despite the fact that this has happened before, I am still momentarily stunned to observe myself walking out of the door. She is holding two steaming mugs. As the other Kate crosses the threshold, she passes under the sconce on the wall, and I can see that her auburn hair is cut quite short and is streaked with golden highlights. She pushes the door closed with her foot, and I notice she is wearing black leather Mojari shoes from India bedecked with elaborate gold embroidery and sequins. She crosses the courtyard to where I am sitting, and it is as if she can actually see me. It seems appropriate to stand to greet her.