“I guess we’re on the right path after all. Which way to the house?”
“Left.”
A few minutes later, they arrived.
“Let’s go around in back. When I left, they were out in the yard. Might still be there.”
Dani followed him, passing between the house on the left and a one-story building on the right. “What’s in here?”
“That’s the lab. I’ll take you in there later.”
They rounded the corner and Dani caught her breath. A garden full of late summer flowers opened up before her. A waterfall splashed in the background. She closed her eyes and inhaled. She could smell late-blooming lilacs and honeysuckle. When she opened them again, she spotted Dr. Seebak, dressed in a short-sleeved button-up shirt, his hair almost entirely gray. He was standing with his back to them. Just beyond him, she recognized Dr. Brant even though her face was hidden behind Dr. Seebak. She was seated at a small table, wearing a scoop-neck top and a white fluffy sweater.
The two doctors were deep in conversation. Their voices were low, but Dani caught pieces.
“…and I’ll tell him when the time is right.”
“…choice, but be sure. You can’t…”
She glanced at Lexil, tilting her head. Should they interrupt, or go find something else to do?
He cleared his throat. “And here we are! Doc, Marielle, I found this lovely young woman waiting forlornly—” Dani jabbed him in the ribs. “—at the tube stop, and guided her safely here. We only got off track once. Maybe twice.”
Dr. Brant laughed. “Lex, if you got off track, I’m quite certain it was intentional. Welcome, Dani. I’m glad you could join us.”
“Thank you. And happy birthday!”
Dr. Seebak stepped forward to offer a handshake. “Hello, Dr. Seebak.”
“Please, call me Doc. How do you like our island?”
“It’s beautiful. I had no idea places like this still existed.”
“It’s a closely guarded secret,” Lexil said. “We’re the only ones who know about it, except for the 32,000 other residents. Shall we get this party started?”
After the meal and a quick tour of their research laboratory, Dani remembered her question.
“It’s the reason I called Lexil in the first place.” She looked around the lab. “Do you still have some sensors here?”
Doc shook his head. “We moved them to RIACH, but we can check their readings from here. What’s worrying you?”
“My friend, Kat Wallace—oh, you know her, right?—has been holo-visiting her uncle in prison.”
“Royce.” It wasn’t a question. “How is she holding up?”
“For a while, she wouldn’t talk to anyone about it. He’s been insisting that he doesn’t belong in there. She didn’t want to upset him, so she just let him rant. She’s been visiting him several times a week, trying to piece together his story, wanting to offer him a touch of the outside world, but it was tearing her apart. Marak was worried enough to come see me.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve seen that before. Usually the chips calm the prisoners down after a few months, but it’s tough on families until it does.”
“She knows that. They filled her in when she went for the orientation. But…” She bit her lip. It sounded so far-fetched. Lexil had thought it was worth considering, though, and had encouraged her to tell them. She took a deep breath and went on. “She found out on Friday that it’s a little more than typical prisoner protests.”
Lexil stepped forward. “May I?”
She nodded.
“He’s had impossible messages—in a place where nobody gets messages—telling him things he shouldn’t know, predictions of the future.” He looked at the floor and then over at Dani.
“The messages say if he’s not released, it will disrupt the timestream.”
Dr. Brant leaned forward. “Remember he’s a manipulator. Capable of putting together elaborate deceptions.” Her eyes narrowed. “We can easily investigate that claim and dismiss it.”
Dani smiled gratefully. “That would give Kat some strength. She’s so confused right now, and she’s always been the solid one, always knows her mind.”
“So.” Doc was pacing. “First things first. Are there any anomalies that you’ve noticed? You won’t have a timestream threat without some kind of indicator.”
Dani and Lexil exchanged glances. He raised an eyebrow and she nodded. Go ahead, you tell him.
“We’ve been tracking some troublesome numbers. We finally resolved the equations on Friday. But it can’t relate to this. The disturbances center on the institute and a spot out in Pacific Ocean. But there’s nothing there.”
Doc raised a hand, palm out. “Hold on. Where, exactly, in the Pacific Ocean?”
Lexil frowned. “North Pacific.”
“About five or six hundred miles offshore?”
“That sounds about right.”
“Why?” Dani asked. “What’s there?”
Doc took a deep breath. “The exact location isn’t widely known, but I have a friend who was one of the engineers on the project. It’s the North Pacific Dome Prison, where, presumably, Royce Hunter is being held.”
DANI’S APARTMENT, First Hill, Seattle, WA. 0200, Monday, September 11, 2215.
That night, Dani dreamt.
In her dream, she was walking along a road with Lexil. Moonlight filtered through leafy branches. The air had a summery feel to it. He was saying something, but she couldn’t hear him. He turned toward her with big brown puppy-dog eyes. He leaned in, and she knew he was about to kiss her. She closed her eyes.
The scene changed. She was watching two people talking. She couldn’t see their faces, but somehow, she knew the man with his back to her was Dr. Seebak, and the woman was Dr. Brant. She wore a pink fluffy sweater and she was crying. Dani strained to hear their voices, knowing their words were important. But she couldn’t make out what they were saying.
A haze filled the air. She became aware that it was smoke. She was in the object library at work with walls and shelves falling down around her. She knew she was trapped, but she wasn’t trying to get out. She was digging through rubble, looking for something, looking, looking, looking. She saw a glint of metal and lunged to reach it.
She found herself at the edge of her bed, twisted in the covers, her right arm extended downward and her fingers brushing the floor. She pulled back and untangled herself so she could sit up. She could feel her heart racing.
Just a dream. But it felt so real.
She shivered. For a moment, she was a little girl again, waking up after a nightmare, watching her dad shine a light under her bed to assure her the monsters weren’t real, telling her it was probably just something she ate.
She told herself afterward that the dream disoriented her, that the adrenaline heightened her emotions and made her feelings more intense.
But it was not the dream that made her cry like a lonely teenager. It was the memory of her dad’s comforting arms, soothing her back to sleep, and the raw ache in her heart from knowing she would probably never see him again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Animosity
COTTAGE #5, Blake Island, WA. 0710, Monday, September 11, 2215.
On the third morning, the prisoner awoke to a thin beam of daylight streaming in through the window. It illuminated a rustic, wood-paneled room with a knobless door. Dust specks danced in the rays of light—rays that had a strange green hue that shifted like an aurora.
He lay on his right side on a pile of gym mats, stacked against the wall in the corner farthest from the window. He propped himself up on an elbow and swung his legs around and over the edge of the mats and sat up. Too quick. His head spun. He closed his eyes until the dizziness lessened.
Had he been moved in the night? Or was this the same room where he’d spent the last three days? He reached down to touch the floor, relieved to realize that his manacles had been removed. The floor was a worn laminate. It might be the same hard
floor he’d been sleeping on, but he couldn’t be sure. His thoughts came sluggishly. All his life, he’d been a morning person, awakening alert, ready to face the day. This was different. Was it from the days of darkness?
He had the sudden urge to stretch and reached high over his head. Could he stand? He looked around for something to hold onto to brace himself, finally settling for leaning against the wall and sliding to an upright position. His legs were weak and tingly, and he stomped to get the blood flowing through them. He judged them capable of holding his weight, but he felt unbalanced. Tentatively, he stepped away from the wall with his left foot. He raised it only a few inches off the ground, but without the support of the wall, it set the room whirling. He stumbled, twisting as well as he could to end up in a sitting position back on the stack of mats.
Dizziness. Vertigo. Modified perception. Now he was pretty sure he’d been drugged, which would have made it easier to move him and unshackle him without his knowledge. The question was, why had he been moved? And why unshackle him now, when he’d been bound for days?
The wooziness persisted. Give it some time, he told himself. Whatever the effects, time would force their retreat. He lay back on the bed. For the first time, he glanced over at the wall to his left, which had been behind him until now.
It shimmered.
A viewwall.
He watched for a minute, two minutes. The shimmer resolved into an image. He saw a room with wood paneling that matched the walls in his own room. But the room on the viewwall was furnished. A table, two chairs. Old-fashioned, made of wood. A vase held cut flowers. He couldn’t see the ceiling, because the viewing angle was downward. But he saw enough to know that the other room was not someone’s prison. By contrast, it was homey and comforting.
Another room in the same house? It might well be just down the hall from where he sat, but for all he knew, it could be miles away.
A body moved into view. At first, he could only see from the shoulders down. But then the man pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. As he looked up into the lens, the prisoner stiffened.
I know that face.
His mind flashed back to the day that had haunted his memory for more than eight years. His throat tightened. So horrific, that a young man in his prime should have had his life, with all its promises, snuffed out so suddenly. That event started a chain of others that changed his life irrevocably, and this man—the man whose face had haunted his nightmares and whose actions had dictated virtually all of his life choices since—this man was to blame for every disappointment, every frustration, every defeat and disaster from that day to this. He could say he hated him, but hatred was too mild a word.
“You. I should have known.”
His captor’s expression held no pity. His eyes were narrow, cold. His lip curled. His nostrils flared. There was no question that the revulsion the prisoner felt was returned in kind.
The man glared at him for long minutes. Finally, he spoke. “You’re completely at my mercy. That puts you in a desperate situation, because I have no mercy for you. You’ve destroyed my life, and I mean to do the same to yours.”
The prisoner shuddered. This man was his enemy. In the years past, he’d exhausted all legal avenues. Nothing was prosecutable, the lawyers said. They could get a restraining order. They might win a judgment, get him a settlement. But that wasn’t justice. This man was guilty, but in all those years, nothing technically illegal could be pinned on him.
Until now. Kidnapping was still a crime, and knowledge that he now had undeniable cause to get this man convicted—after years of futile attempts—and out of his life forever brought him some comfort. All he had to do was survive and escape.
He willed the grogginess to leave, willed focus to his mind. He couldn’t miss anything. The tiniest detail might mean the difference between survival and…
He refused to think of the alternative.
In the other room, his captor was using a small nail file to clean his nails. Nonchalance. Utter confidence. Galling, was what it was. His jaw clenched. At least the wooziness was abating.
The man looked up. “I’ve issued a ransom demand. Not that any amount of money will save you, but it will set things in motion to get your daughter involved. You’ll enjoy seeing her again, I’m sure. It’s unfortunate that she will have to suffer.”
He choked. “She’s all I have left.”
“You haven’t spoken to her for years.” His captor looked back down at his fingernails and continued cleaning them.
“Whose fault is that? If you hadn’t—”
“We all make choices. You put the wall between yourself and your daughter. Blaming me is idiocy.” His enemy inspected his nails and put the file down, satisfied. “It’s of no importance anyway. What matters is that she is important to you, which is obvious. I wonder, though. Does she still care about you at all? We shall soon see.”
Images of his daughter flooded his mind: a sweet toddler with her arms up for a hug, an adoring child chewing on her pigtails, a beautiful teenager with growing confidence in her own abilities. He wondered what kind of a woman she had grown up to be.
An ache welled up in his heart. A few days ago, he’d have given anything to see her again. But now, he was desperate to keep her away. To keep her safe.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Inability
RIACH LABORATORIES, Alki Beach, Seattle, WA. 1000, Monday, September 11, 2215.
“No question. It’s growing.” Zaidee turned away from her console. Her voice was uncharacteristically solemn.
Dani could see that. They could all see it. The tiny little dot in the Pacific was emitting towering waveforms.
“Still centered out in the North Pacific?” Lexil had his back to her, working on formatting and feeding fresh data to Zaidee’s program. “Can you do a projection?”
“Sure. Give me a minute.”
They were no strangers to chronetic ripples. At last count, they’d monitored twelve of them just in the last three months. That was the main purpose of their department, aside from the theoretical research. But those had been small disturbances, which mostly resolved themselves or succumbed to countering ripples within a few days.
Silas came from the far end of the lab where he’d been working. “There’s no evidence of any damping effect that I can see. I filtered the influences and examined them one at a time. They distort it, but none of them reduce it.”
“Looks like we might have to take an active part in this one, as soon as we track it down.” Lexil straightened and spun around in his chair. “Doc’s pretty sure it’s the prison. Which means Royce Hunter may be telling the truth, rather than just trying to manipulate the system.”
“We have Kat’s account as well,” Dani said. “From what she told me, there’s no way he could have planted that message. He doesn’t have access to the room except when she’s holo-visiting twice a week. She’d have seen something.”
“Okay, if that’s true, what can we do about it?” Chali asked. “It’s not as if we could fly out there and spring him from prison. And we don’t even know if that’s what’s causing the disturbance.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” Zaidee tapped the screen and stood back. “Was it the way he was convicted? Or is it the fact that he’s in prison? Or something else entirely? By the way, I have that projection ready, if anyone wants to look.”
They all turned, and she slid her fingers through the air to start the scenario.
The ripples kept growing in increasing amounts, with echoes near the institute.
When the projection was done, Zaidee shut down the image with another gesture. “This just projects based on what we’ve already seen, of course. The real damage could be from something completely unexpected.”
“And with this kind of anomaly, we can pretty much count on the unexpected, can’t we?” Patyl, silent until now, said what Dani was thinking.
She nodded. “We’d see the countering ripples by now if they were going to
be there. We could be heading for a major event.”
Not that any of them had lived through a major event. Most of what they knew about the behavior of certain classes of chronetic ripples had come from a sheaf of papers Lexil had discovered at the Vashon Island lab the previous June. It was in his own handwriting, but he hadn’t written it. It appeared that a Lexil from an alternate timestream had documented a disruption. From the numbers in the document, that timestream would have ended in catastrophe if it had not somehow been set back on track.
That discovery had been enough to launch quick legislation banning any recordings of chronetic energies, which had been commonplace up till then. Dani was certain the lawmakers would never have reached such quick consensus without Marak’s efforts. He had government connections, and he also had a way with words that made key people instantly aware of the danger and utterly convinced that the laws were necessary.
The memory gave her an idea.
“If we have to get him released, could Marak help us convince the right people?”
“You know,” Lexil said, “I’ll bet he could. At least he could point us in the right direction. Let’s get him out here and see who he knows.”
“That’s a tough one.” Marak paced back and forth in the meeting room. “He’s a pretty high profile prisoner. I’ve never heard of anyone at that level being released early.”
Lexil was pacing too. Dani watched the two of them crossing each other’s paths. It would have been amusing, if the topic weren’t so serious.
“He’s got that chip in his head,” Lexil said. “How much damage could he do as long as that was functioning?”
“I don’t know the range of those devices. I know they have to be monitored continuously until the recipient stabilizes, and the controls might be effective only inside the prison. You’re sure the disruption is because he’s in there?”
“Either that, or those messages Kat said he’s been receiving are the cause.”
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