by Rob Reger
Me: [Silently scribbling all this down word for word. Priceless!]
Later
We waited until they left, then cautiously went upstairs to see how Pearl and Opal were doing. Aside from being hungry and anxious, they are fine. No one knows where Caleb is, though. I wanted to tell Opal everything I’d heard Boris say about her beloved psychic, and ask her whether she truly wanted to marry the guy, and suggest that, if so, she should really look into developing a psychic talent of her own so they could have a more two-way communication going, but decided to hold my tongue when I saw how worried she was about him.
We shared what was pretty much the last of Pearl’s food stash; then Lily and I went off to her room. I REALLY needed to have a straight talk with her about her new skills with the dark elixir (and what they might, potentially, mean for me and my own source of black rock).
Here’s what she had to say:
LILY: You heard the story of how I first came to use the dark elixir for healing. Opal was deathly ill, and I panicked. I had a sort of mental flash—a sort of vision, you might say. I could sense the personality of the elixir for the first time, and that’s when I knew it could heal.
Me: And what about when Boris started selling it, and the flow died? Did you do that?
L: Yes, I’m sure of it now.
Me: And the mud in the tunnel? Was that you too?
L: Yes, I believe your training was starting to work! But I didn’t realize it until today. Today, I made real contact with the essence of my elixir. Today, I learned to TALK to the elixir. And to direct it intentionally, not unconsciously.
Me: [SOOO excited.] What was it like? How’d you figure it out?
L: When I felt Enigma’s heart stop, I thought I might die with her. Cousin Emily, I think you understand—she’s more than a pet, more like . . . part of me! It was like that panic when Opal was ill, only . . . well . . .
Me: [Understanding.] Even stronger. I know. Don’t worry, I won’t tell your sister.
L: And then, well, I’ve always been good at following instructions. And Sweetie-Pie told me to start it. So I did. I reached out with my mind to that empty fountain at home, and just . . . started it.
Me: So, at that moment, it was easy?
L: Effortless! Because the dark elixir . . . it’s also part of me, in a way.
Me: [Taking notes as fast as possible.] OK, all right, this is good stuff, very helpful, just hope it doesn’t take Mystery’s near death to start up MY black rock . . .
L: [Very benevolent.] You’ll learn how when the time comes. After all, you’re a Dark Girl. It’s PART of you.
Me: [Feeling totally put in my place as Junior Dark Girl.] [Basically OK with that.] Thanks, Great-Aunt Lily.
Later
Have told Lily everything I heard Boris say about Caleb: how Boris knows I’m here, how Caleb told him about Lily’s growing power over the dark elixir, how he seems to have been behind the catnapping and bloodletting. Lily apparently wants to ignore the clear signs of betrayal, though. She says she believes in Caleb no matter what, and she’s sure I will come to feel the same. Personally, I don’t trust the guy as far as I could drop-kick him, but will just wait and see what happens. Am extremely glad I took the time to learn self-hypnosis and create that psychic barrier before meeting him! Will be tucking WAY more thoughts in that mental hidey-hole before this is over!
Later
We are in a holding pattern, waiting to see if Caleb or Boris will show up, and/or trying to figure out our next move. Am trying to ease my anxiety with some nice calming code-breaking. So far the mysterious letters have not yielded anything interesting, though I was able to make a few intriguing (though unimpressive) anagrams from them:
NL LC AV MA MF EM MK CU AM ME
Ummmmmm lava necklace f
Male uncle mamma vmfmmkc
Manacle muck flame vmmm
Menace mammal luck fmmv
Drat all those Ms!
Amm stummped.
Later
No end to the anxiety, man. Am now feeling uneasy about just how much I’ve managed to alter history with all this running around, putting mosquito fish in the water supply, talking up germ theory, etcetera, etcetera.
I think I’ve kind of been overlooking the whole parallel universe danger of time travel. I know it’s important to be careful what I change while I’m back in time—and at the very least, to make sure that I return to my own universe and not some weird alternate version of reality that I accidentally created while I was gone.
For example: Maybe some bacteria hop off your skin into the Jurassic, or you leave a cell phone in the nineteenth century, or you give some loser a few innocent stock tips . . . ye olde chaos butterfly flaps its wings, and the Eiffel Tower falls down . . . and then you go home to a world where you were never born, or people brush their teeth with dirt, or the centipedes are the new ruling class. Now, I’m the first to admit that’s entertaining, but really, most of the time I just want to go back to the comforts of home, where my mom, golem, spiders, dead great-aunt, and cats know my name. Luckily, Mom is a tolerant, understanding, fun-loving GOOD SPORT, and can always be relied on for snappy, honest answers to apparently stupid questions like “Hey, Patti, what’s my name? Are we still mammals? Who’s the President of the United States these days?”
So yeah. Up until this trip, I’ve been lucky. But I’ve never spent this long in the past before, let alone changed this much, and right now I’m starting to feel like every move I make, every hair that falls from my head, every molecule of air that’s altered because I breathed it in is creating new worlds of infinite divergent contingencies, and I will be bouncing from one to another for all eternity, never finding the one I know . . .
Have to stop thinking of infinite parallel worlds. Am bringing on severe attack of apeirophobia. Must focus on the world I am currently in. I just really hope that it’s a world where Lily lives to be 100 and not one where she dies at 13. And what about that family rumor about a Dark Girl causing Lily’s death? Have I changed THAT, at least? Or am I going to accidentally drop a brick on Lily’s head in the next day or two? Pass on a common-cold bug that her 1790s immune system can’t handle? Or commit some infinitesimal faux pas, setting off an inexorable, decades-long chain of events that finally results in her death?
GAHHHHH! So many possible Deaths of Lily. So many ways this could all go wrong.
Later
Caleb is back, acting very pleased with himself. Here’s what he SAYS he’s been up to:
Having been monitoring my thoughts and Lily’s while we were out and about,52 he was well aware of the plight of the Ebenezers, the saga of the flying mosquito fish, and the epic summoning of the dark elixir.
He hated to think that Boris might somehow turn the flood of Black Potion to his own advantage.
And he decided that it was time for him to do what he could to strike a blow against Boris in his own way.
So he paid a visit to the mayor, whom he had met while accompanying Boris to a formal dinner and political gala.
And told the mayor a complicated tissue of lies, cleverly interspersed with allusions to the mayor’s own private thoughts, that has pretty much ruined Boris’ welcome in Seasidetown. Not to mention his ability to sell Black Potion.
For example: Was the mayor aware that Boris was actually responsible for bringing the white fever into town?
And that, contrary to what the ignorant townspeople might think, the Black Potion was next to useless? (Of course, Caleb was armed with a bottle of Boris’ suspiciously moleasses-y potion to prove this point.)
Superior minds like the mayor’s, of course, would understand that plagues like the white fever could not be cured with the sham medicines of common quacks.
And that indeed the answer could be found in the teachings of the ancient Romans and Andalusians:53 Disease came from tiny creatures, too small to see, carried (in this case) by mosquitoes.
But of COURSE, the mayor already knew THAT. Why, any chi
ld understood it!
Specifically, three children—James, Matthew, and Sweetie-Pie Ebenezer, who happened to be waiting in the foyer with presents of flying mosquito fish, and stories of their success in ridding the town of mosquitoes, and thus the dread white fever.
The mayor, who is not at all a superior mind, never noticed he was being steamrolled, but happily thanked Caleb for introducing him to such enterprising, civic-minded young people, statues of whom he promised to have commissioned within a week.
And as for Boris, let’s just say it would be unwise of him to show his face at the next mayoral soirée.
Hmph. Caleb clearly knows all my reasons for mistrusting him, and is trying some damage control. I gotta give it to him, he knows how to hit some of my soft spots: A) education on disease vectors and mosquito control, B) preservation of the secret of the dark elixir’s special qualities, C) future social embarrassment for Boris, and D) statues of my friends.
Assuming this all actually happened, of course.54
And he will still have to answer for the catnapping, bloodletting, and informing Boris of my presence. But I’m not going to challenge him openly, in front of Opal and Pearl—I’m sure they would react just like Lily did. No, my suspicions are between me and Caleb. Have sent him a very clear psychic memo to the effect that I am watching him closely, and with serious misgivings!
Later
Back in Lily’s room. Trying to lay the foundation for a nice solid plan that will hide Lily and her dark elixir from Boris forever. Am taking inspiration from A) the Original Death of Lily by White Fever, and B) protagonists through the ages who needed to make someone stop chasing them for all time. In other words, we’re going to fake Lily’s death!!!! So simple. So effective. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I’m deciding that I may have been a bit misled in thinking that various possible Deaths of Lily happen in various Separate Universes. I think that, actually, A) Lily IS going to die of white fever (without being bitten by any mosquitoes, or suffering any symptoms), AND B) Lily is going to fake her death to get rid of Boris, AND C) a Dark Girl is indeed going to cause Lily’s death (well, OK, her FAKE death), all in this exact universe I’m in right here and now.
Have created a Venn diagram to explain my hypothesis. Am sure to receive extra credit from Mom for this!
How neat and tidy. The history Aunt Millie taught me actually depended on me to come back here and create it.
—Jeez, what if I hadn’t felt like coming?
Anyway. Lily and I have done some planning. Here’s what we’ve come up with:
Lily is going straight to bed with a severe (severely FAKE!) case of white fever.
Caleb will bring Boris to come see her.
And she’ll plead with him for that last muddy bottle of Black Potion, claiming to be too far gone to summon any herself.
He may or may not give it to her, but either way, her condition’s not going to improve any.
And at the critical moment, we’ll administer a dose of paramytosilicate extract—100% deathlike effect, every time!
Paramytosilicate extract that I will have retrieved from my bedroom back in Tootleston, having used my house key to jump there.55
Once Boris has seen her lifeless body, Caleb will get him occupied in planning her funeral.
During which time I will get the entire family safely hidden in the warehouse.
Then Caleb, Pearl, Lily, and Opal will escape in the funeral coach that Boris himself will hire for them.
Now that the mayor is about to declare Seasidetown free of white fever, they should have no problem getting to Salem, where they can take refuge at Caleb’s parents’ home.
Then I’ll say my farewells to Seasidetown and the Ebenezers.
And zap myself and Mystery back to my own time using . . . hmmmm . . . well, using something yet to be determined.
Then go tell Mom and Aunt Millie how it all REALLY happened.
Later-MUCH later
Lily and I are back in the twenty-first century! I had no intention of taking her with me! She was sitting there so innocently on her bed back in 1790 Seasidetown, just watching me load up the Time-Out Machine’s hopper with dark elixir and drop my Tootleston house key into the slot, and I guess I was too absorbed in my calibrations with the selection dial to notice her creeping closer and closer to the machine, curiosity and eager sense of adventure burning in her eyes. At the last moment before I hit GO, she and Enigma jumped in with me.56 Moldwarps! They had better not make any trouble here. This is MY history, and I don’t want any changes!
Grrr. Anyway: We landed in the backyard of my Tootleston house. Could be better, could be worse; at least it’s daytime, so my Tootleston self is asleep, and the fence is high, so no one is likely to see Lily or the T.O.M. I made her swear up and down she would behave, then Mystery and I slipped in through a window and commenced to sneakin’.
Later
Back outside. I got the stuff. It was a very creepy experience breaking into my own bedroom, disarming my own booby traps, finding MY OWN SELF sound asleep under my own four cats, tiptoeing around them, trying not to breathe. I grabbed the extract and split. Tried to shake off the whole mind-bending, queasy experience. Do not like encountering myself in journeys to the past. Way too many possibilities for Parallel Universe Danger. Way too much temptation to sit down and have a chat with myself about all the trouble I can avoid down the road if I will just listen to my future self for a moment. Yeah. My mind hurts to think of all the additional trouble THAT would surely get me into.
At least Lily more or less behaved herself while I was gone. She passed the time staring through a knothole in the fence at a busy sidewalk in a world 200+ years later than her own. Needless to say, she had some questions for me.
And Now, Emily Explains to 1790s Girl . . .
Trousers on Females
Facial Piercing
The Cellular Telephone
The Mullet
Short Shorts
Green Hair Dye
Iced-Out Grillz
Moon Boots
Tube Tops
Skateboards
Text Messaging
The Purse Dog
Bling
Later-or earlier?
Oh boy. Lily and I are NOT in Seasidetown, 1790. No, we are in Manhattan, 1974—the Ramones’ first show. I know, probably not the smartest plan, but Lily seemed so interested in the concept of punk, which really is best explained with examples. She is a little bit blown away, I think. Mostly by the volume—a decibel level completely unknown in the 1790s, I can tell you. Her pristine eardrums are getting a workout tonight! Both cats are cowering in the Time-Out Machine, pissed off at us. Maybe we’ll stay for one more number and roll out. The next song is only forty-two seconds long, anyway. Man, I never get tired of seeing this show.
OK, Lily is already attracting some interested glances from fashionista types. Don’t want to change the history of Young Ladies’ Apparel too drastically if I can help it.57
Later
We are in my bedroom in Blandindulle. I finally let Lily talk me into allowing her into my home. One of my homes, anyway. My past self is off on that journey to Great-Aunt Emma’s house in Blackrock, allowing plenty of time for my current self to show Lily around my Blandindulle bedroom. I showed Lily the Oddisee, the Tilt-A-Girl™, and that computer I made out of Lincoln Logs. She actually seemed to understand pretty well how it worked. I had to stop her enthusiastic adulation of my genius by explaining how much I crowd-surfed on the shoulders of others to make that thing.58
She’s been perusing my bookshelves and music collection. And Now, Emily Explains to 1790s Girl . . .
M.C. Escher
Finnegans Wake
The Residents
Waka/Jawaka
Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars
My Cousin, My Gastroenterologist
Gwar
Quadrophenia
The New York Dolls
Metal Machine Music
Jackson Pollock
Pride and Prejudice and Zombies
Later
We are about to leave Blandindulle, but first, we are going to sneak a quick peek at my mom, since Lily seems to have her heart set on seeing at least one member of my family. It is totally ill advised, but Lily has this new, authoritative Elder Dark Aunt way about her now, and I’m having trouble saying no.
Later
It was actually very gratifying to slink into Mom’s bedroom so that Lily could “meet” her. Like me, Lily has met very few relatives (in fact, most of the relatives I’VE met have, technically, been long dead), so it was kind of a special moment.
LILY: [Eyes misting up.] She’s beautiful! I can’t wait to tell Pearl and Opal all about her. And what about your siblings? Do you have sisters? Brothers?
Me: Can’t help you there, Lily. No siblings. None that I know of, anyway.
Lily: [Pausing to consider what it said about one’s parents if one considered secret siblings a distinct possibility.] What a world you live in, Cousin Emily.
Later/earlier/later/etc.
OK—Lily and I may be on a bit of a bender here with the time travel. I keep sort of gently suggesting that we head back to 1790, but Lily keeps producing interesting artifacts she obviously lifted from my Blandindulle bedroom, then summoning these huge bubbles of dark elixir . . . and, well, who I am to argue with my Auntie? We have hit Paris, 1977; Berkeley, 1967; Shanghai, 1127; Eridu, 5007 BC; Reykjavik, 877; Kathla’amat, 1377; Los Angeles, 1947; and Dubai, 2007—where we are now. I am getting overwhelmed with it all, we have been carrying two very exhausted cats on our shoulders for the past five stops, and I suspect Lily may be hitting her limit soon. Suspect and HOPE!