The only thing that made some sense was that Aboreal preceded the TSTA. Presumably, Jim Hall wasn’t born until after the TSTA had already come into existence. Visions of the Lost who had surrounded me in Susana flashed in my mind; some came from times earlier than Jim Hall’s Folkestone, England; others from places much more archaic.
I frowned. “How is it possible that the world—Susana—that Jim created was able to capture Lost from the past, like those who disappeared after we set them free? Wait, no, don’t tell me—” I clenched my forehead, pulling at the roots of my hair. “Somebody did some kind of Overwrite thing to reset time in Susana?”
Valcas frowned. “Time in Susana was supposed to be reset to the time in which the TSTA first formed. At least that’s what Ray read to us from the project documents.”
“Ha, well, I suppose that’s why we didn’t see any cavemen, then,” I said grimly. My comment earned a disgusted grunt from my father. I sighed. I wasn’t the only one who’d heard enough. “Ray, can I talk to you for a moment?” As if my request wasn’t obvious, I quickly added, “Alone, outside the tower.”
I stared past Valcas, who I could feel gaping at me. I didn’t want him to follow, to anticipate my next step.
“Sure,” said Ray, handing his laptop to Lily and rising from the floor. I caught my breath as he neared, finally noticing what I’d missed during all the excitement back at the TSTA. Ray was tired. His lips were set with determination, but he didn’t fool me. Redness streaked his blue eyes; his brain had to be fried. And here I was about to ask him for more help, to give more of himself to me. “Thanks,” I said, humbled.
Without looking behind me, trying not to care about the looks the rest of the group exchanged, I plodded downstairs and opened a door to an alien sky.
“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” said Ray, closing the door behind us. “I wish I’d been able to infiltrate the records earlier. I’m sorry, Calla.”
My lips parted in disbelief. “You think I came out here to criticize you?”
He shrugged.
“Ray, you’ve done more for me than most people in the worlds. You’ve been a really good friend, supporting me every step of the way. You helped me find my father and discover secrets about the TSTA. You were part of the team that freed me from Susana. Why would you need to be sorry?”
He leaned in and looked at me more intently. I was used to his penetrating stares, which were usually the result of how he recorded and processed whatever he was listening to and watching. But this time, the feeling that I was being recorded was gone. It was as if he’d lifted a veil to show more of himself to me. I shrank beneath the intimacy of it.
Ray looked away momentarily, giving me a chance to clear my head. “You led us to Susana and solved the mystery of my tattoo. More than that, you found and saved my sister. She’s my twin, Calla. You’ve retied a bond that I thought had been severed forever.”
I released a breath out of the side of my mouth. “But I don’t feel like I’ve done anything. I didn’t find Susana so much as it found me. And I can’t help what I am—that I inherited my father’s travel talent. That praise goes to whoever gave me that talent to begin with.”
“I don’t disagree, but you still chose to use your talent. That’s what matters. That’s what will always matter. It’s why you are who you are.”
Leaning back against the outside of the Clock Tower, I looked up at the sky—purple, jeweled, like a bruise set on fire. Never had I imagined that I’d be where I was now or that I would have experienced more than the life I’d had at Lake Winston. Friends like Ray hadn’t existed for me. I doubted I ever would have met him without Valcas. And somehow my heart had chosen Valcas; our paths had converged through space and time.
Ray smiled. “If you didn’t ask me out here to question my methods of gathering intelligence, then what’s on your mind?”
“I don’t deserve it, but I need your help. Again. For something that might sound ridiculous. I’m not sure what I’m getting myself into, but I don’t know any other way around it.”
“Whoa, calm down.” He pressed his hands to my shoulders, giving me that open look again.
“You’re not recording, are you?”
His eyes blinked beneath raised brows. “No, that takes too much energy, and right now I’m too tired. How did you know?”
“You look different. It’s not a big deal. I was just curious.” I paused long enough for the silence to get uncomfortably long. Best to just get this over with, I thought. “It’s about Valcas and our timelines—”
He dropped his hands and glanced at the ground. “I see. You want me to figure out how to give you two more time together.”
“Yes,” I murmured, “I have an idea, but I’m not sure it will work. Do you understand how our worlds overlap? How his can be a world from the future, one in which I exist, but only for a fraction of his lifetime?”
Ray leaned against the tower next to me. I watched him as he pointed at the sky. “Ignoring the color, what’s missing out there that we take for granted on Earth?”
“The sun, moon and stars.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because I can’t see them.” I shifted uncomfortably. This was starting to feel like a lesson from Edgar. No wonder Edgar’s silhouette got along so well with Ray.
Through the side of my vision, I caught Ray’s grin. “I don’t know what types of celestial bodies are in the Clock Tower’s galaxy, but I could probably find out with enough research. My point, however, is that we can’t assume there’s nothing there just because we can’t see it. There are galaxies out there that are so far away that the light they emitted at their birth hasn’t reached us yet. They’re so many billions of light years away that by the time we see that light, we won’t know whether that galaxy still exists or not.” His cheeks colored, presumably at my dazed look. “What I mean is—just because we can’t see our stars from here, doesn’t mean they’re not out there somewhere in the Milky Way Galaxy.”
“Do you think all that’s related to time travel and the timelines of persons living in the different galaxies?”
“Yes, I do. Our various methods of travel are what help us realize that there are overlaps. It could be that our distance is what creates the measurements of time, which quite honestly, I’m not sure are really there.”
AS RAY’S words sunk in, I thought about the worlds that had been created by World Builders such as Valcas and his parents—how those worlds could be reset and based on what metric. I doubted I could rearrange time, but there was a chance that I could change the perception of some of the events existing within it. Starting with Valcas’ memories.
Ray raked a hand through his hair. “You probably didn’t come out here to have me lecture about my ideas on time travel either. How can I help?”
Smiling, I said, “I need your ability to record to help me with an Overwrite.”
His expression went rigid, followed by his body.
I lifted my hand, lightly setting it on his arm. “I’m not completely sure it will work—if what I have in mind is technically a writing on a physical object. What if I were to loan you my travel glasses, to record some of the memories there? Would you be able to burn those images—record them—in Valcas’ pair of travel glasses? Is it possible to overwrite—to replace what’s written there—by recording over other memories he’d captured inside?”
Rubbing his chin, Ray replied, “It makes technical sense. I never would have thought to try such a thing. The burning of memories would be analogous to a writing, just like capturing electronic data on a disk. And the pair of glasses is a physical object.”
“Yes, that’s exactly where I was going with that. Do you think it’s enough to be considered a writing, though?”
Ray’s lower lip stuck out as he mulled this over. Again, it was strange because instead of his usual intensity during recording or thinking, his face registered something more personal, open and intimate. He tilted his head back and forth a
s if battling with ideas on his way toward a conclusion. “We could test the theory,” he said at last.
My lips quirked into a grin. So far it seemed he didn’t think my idea was crazy—he was really considering going along with it. “Sure, what do I need to do?”
“Let me see your pair of travel glasses.”
I balked, suddenly nervous about handing over my thoughts, memories and the feelings I’d recorded along with them. Sure, I’d suggested it, but maybe I hadn’t expected him to agree so readily. “What would you use to overwrite?”
He tapped a finger to his head. “My memories.”
The idea didn’t thrill me. I thought about how behind the Fire Falls—after we’d found my father—Valcas had suggested that Ray burn recordings of his experiences going through the fire layer to prove there was an air layer. Ray’s ability to record must have been powerful if he could do such a thing. But that was just recording, which was different from retrieving memories that had been recorded, playing them back. I started doubting that what I’d asked Ray to do would work. It made sense that he could record memories and burn his own recordings on a device. But what about finding someone else’s recordings—the ones that needed to be overwritten?
From what I’d learned through experiences with past-Valcas at the White Tower, being able to see someone else’s recorded memories required a strong bond with the recorder, just like with the zobascope. When watching recordings captured by Valcas in the zobascope, I’d not only seen and heard what he’d recorded from his point of view; I’d felt his responses—his emotions—while he viewed them. The zobascope was the predecessor to the travel glasses. Similarly, someone with a strong bond with the recorder could play back memories recorded in the travel glasses. That’s how I’d been able to see Valcas’ memories in his travel glasses.
This left the question of whether Ray and I had a close enough bond to allow him to retrieve my memories—the thoughts, feelings and scenes I’d recorded in the travel glasses. My stomach churned as I handed Ray my pair—the original pair of travel glasses Valcas stole after Edgar had altered them. Would Ray be able to view the recordings that Valcas and I had captured? If he could, what would he think of us? And what would he choose to overwrite?
Accepting the glasses, Ray turned them over in his hands. His extended lower lip tugged into a frown as he slipped the dark lenses over his eyes. I held my breath as he concentrated.
His lips dropped open.
“Is it working, Ray? What do you see?”
Before he could answer, the door to the Clock Tower opened and Valcas stepped outside.
“What’s going on here?” said Valcas, his face pained. “Why’s Ray wearing your travel glasses?”
“Nothing,” I blurted, unable to disguise the guilty tone to my voice. “I mean—we’re trying an experiment. I wasn’t sure whether it would work, and I didn’t want to bother anybody. He agreed to help.” Shut up! This isn’t helping. Mentally, I smacked myself on the back of the head.
“It’s not working.” Ray tore the glasses off his face and handed them back to me. “I’m sorry, Calla, but I’m not the right person to help with this.” He briefly scanned Valcas. “I think the person you’re looking for is right here.”
Shrugging, Ray looked at me, his expression blank; suddenly back to the old Ray, his gaze intense and formal. But then he smiled as if to say everything would be okay, that things were all right between us.
I stood there, stunned, without a response in my brain that dared reach my lips. I watched as Ray disappeared inside the tower.
Valcas walked toward me. His eyes burned with confusion. “What just happened?”
I wasn’t sure what Ray meant about Valcas being the person I was looking for to help with my experiment. But without Ray, I wasn’t sure how it would work at all. “I asked Ray to help me,” I said, my voice shaky. “I wanted to find a way for us to spend more time together despite our timelines. I asked Ray if he could overwrite memories inside the travel glasses…as a test.”
Valcas’ forehead creased slightly. “You were willing for someone to tamper with our memories?”
I responded with a guilty shrug.
“Dearest,” he said, stepping closer to smooth a curl behind my ear. “There’s no easy fix for this. I’m from a future world with a timeline that overlaps yours for a short time. That makes me both from the future and part of your present.”
Knowing that he was right and still not wanting to believe it, I swallowed back a snort.
“It’s a burden I don’t expect you to undertake, Calla. I care too much for you.” He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “It’s not like I can be reborn in your world or you in mine.”
If he only knew what his mother had done. “But what about resetting time like the TSTA did with Susana? What if we could somehow redo what Ivory and Nick tried to fix with their Overwrites? Peace between Aboreal and the TSTA could be obtained without a war.”
“I suspect that would be no more than a temporary solution, much like Edgar’s youth elixir. A trick played on time is like a crash diet. Both create imbalances to remedy and setbacks to resolve.”
As much as I tried to blink back tears, that didn’t prevent a couple from dripping. I blew air up across my cheeks and forehead. “Just as I guess destroying Susana doesn’t mean travelers will be protected from becoming Lost.”
He nodded as I let him circle his arms around me, taking in his warmth. “I’m grateful to have you back,” he said, “even if it is for a short time.” He squeezed me gently, and then let go. “Ray is too, so it would seem.”
I lowered my eyes. “What do you think he saw inside the travel glasses?”
“I have no doubt his feelings for you have created a strong bond. He’s not one to lie—”
“I hurt him, haven’t I? Even after he was so happy to find his sister and learn the meaning behind his tattoo.” My hands covered my eyes, slipping against leftover tears. “I’ve ruined everything.”
A sigh hissed between Valcas’ lips. “You didn’t ruin anything. As usual, you were trying to help.” His hand skimmed my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go back inside. You must be exhausted.”
“I’m not sure how much rest I’ll get in that slumber party. Kind of cramped, isn’t it?”
Valcas smiled. “Want me to grab some blankets and pillows and bring them back outside?”
“That could work. Sometimes, when it was warm enough, I liked to sleep under the stars—out by the lake. Not that there are stars here,” I said, sitting down and looking up at the sky. My lips formed a tiny smile as Ray’s words came to mind: Just because we can’t see our stars from here, doesn’t mean they’re not out there somewhere in the Milky Way Galaxy. The fact that our lives had touched for any period of time was a marvel and a blessing.
“I’ll be right back,” I heard Valcas say as I stretched out and lay down on the ground, resting my head in the crook of my arm.
I gazed up at the Clock Tower and gave in to the hypnotic sway of its timepieces and the tinkling of metal and glass. I never heard Valcas return.
WHITE LIGHT dazzled my eyes. Shimmered and sparkled. Rays of warmth twisted into spirals. I felt comfort and security lined with the impossible. The corners of my vision began to disintegrate, pixilate. Cartooned images of the stars and moon spun, singing a song common to all worlds and times. Until tunnels of emptiness brought back the aches and pains of Susana, and then filled the edges of light with darkness.
I felt as if I were being pulled toward something. As I drew closer to everything and nothing at all, I heard a sucking sound, followed by a crack and the whisper of wind. The air smelled and tasted of plumples, ripe and fresh, as if freshly picked from Edgar’s garden.
The sounds faded, along with the light. Until there was…
Nothing.
WILD GRASSES crunched beneath my feet as I stomped through overgrown cattails and dodged piles of musty fallen leaves. The air was clean and brisk thanks to the c
loudless sky and the freshwater Lake Winston. It smelled of autumn, and that nearly made me gag.
I swallowed back the sick feeling by pumping my legs harder. “Back to school time,” I huffed.
Not for me, though.
Tourist season had ended weeks ago, leaving the lake empty and quiet. Still, there was something about the crisp air and decaying leaves that choked me each time I inhaled.
With the backs of my sleeves I wiped away sweat beads slipping down my forehead and across my brow. I stopped in front of the dock, a weathered brown-gray structure in need of repair and several coats of paint. Rows of sun-scorched irises lay trampled nearby. I wrinkled my nose. Interning at the lake made it my job to dig these out before landscaping the rocky area that would become the new picnic grounds.
As my breathing slowed, I pictured wooden picnic tables encircling a brightly colored jungle gym swarming with children. At least that wouldn’t happen until the spring, after I started my first semester of college. I smiled, my stomach settling at the thought. My back-to-school jitters could take a rain check until then.
I turned away from the dock and bent down to stretch my legs. As I did so, I heard a strange, animal-like sound behind me. The skin on the back of my neck prickled.
I stood up and turned around.
A young man about my age was crouched over, in a runner’s starting pose. The wind blew his hair as he clenched his teeth. I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.
Sure enough, when I dropped my hands, he was still there. He looked up, catching me looking at him. Realizing that my mouth hung open, I pressed my lips shut.
He half grinned, and then stared up at the sun for an unusually long period of time.
My hands rested on my hips. “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” he said, removing his sunglasses. “But you should sit down first.”
My breath quickened. His hair was dark, and his eyes were a dazzling green. And his accent, British.
The request to sit down confused me, but I knew it made sense—that there was a good reason to listen to him. I felt like I could trust him, but I was sweaty and gross from my run. I didn’t want to sit down, even though he still hadn’t stood up from his position on the ground.
Time for the Lost Page 17