Surfacing (Spark Saga)

by Melissa Dereberry

  “Anyway, I’m dating Alex.”

  “Your mother told me. He’s a nice boy. Is it serious?”

  Well, that’s an uncomfortable question. “Not really. We’ve been friends a long time. We get along good. And he likes me.”

  “Good,” he replies. “I’m happy for you. Now, don’t worry so much about the past. That’s why they call it the past. It’s ‘passed.’”

  “But what about my memory?”

  “What about it?”

  “I mean, I can’t remember certain things.,,”

  “Yes, but you remember the important things. Most of us can’t remember everything. That’s perfectly normal.”

  “Ok.” I’m itching to ask…what is normal, but I’m sort of tired and my head hurts. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetie. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Dad.” And just because I’m still feeling warm and fuzzy, I give him a big hug.

  Zach

  Well, that was a big disappointment. Now Tess thinks I’m crazy. Perhaps my attempt to approach the subject with her is an example of trying to manipulate the natural course of events. I feel like grumbling to my father about this, but seriously, I need to just figure it out. Tess might think I’m crazy, but I’m still her friend, and there is hope yet. I just need to find the right words.

  I’m thinking the written word will serve me best at this point. So, I load up my email on my phone, start to write her a letter, but I can’t get past the first line:

  Dear Tess,

  Please don’t think I’m crazy.

  Wow. Brilliant display of words. I need motivation. Validation. I must know, for certain—beyond just what my father has told me—that Tess and I are meant to be. There is only one way to do that, as I see it.

  The simulator.

  It has been stored under my bed for months. I started thinking about explaining it to Tess, back in some other time…and I thought it might be good to have it handy, just in case. Ok, so I just basically plug in, go to sleep, and let my dreams do the rest. Only, they’re not dreams. Technically, they’re my future.

  I stare at my phone screen for a few more minutes, then look up, just in time to see Dani and John walking out of the side door of the school, near the gym. Dani looks casually over her shoulder, as if to see if anyone is watching, then puts her arms around his waist and gives him a kiss on the lips. John responds by kissing her back, multiple times, grinning and rubbing her back in between.

  Without thinking, I send Dani a text right then and there:

  -I see you

  Within a few seconds, I see her pat her pocket and draw out her phone. She glances at it, then grimaces slightly, says something to John, and looks around.

  And that, as they say, is the beginning of the end.

  The next morning, I wake up with one of the wires wrapped around my arm and a singular thought in my mind.

  The dream was real.

  One night, Tess and I will be in her apartment. We will be standing by the light of a refrigerator, and I will pull out a ring box from my pocket. I will feel an overpowering surge of pure love and adoration unlike any I’ve ever known…her smile says it all. She doesn’t even have to say yes. We both hear it in our hearts, already.

  It is everything I can do not to call up Tess right now and pour out my heart. But that, of course, would be foolish. I remember what my father said about trying to do too much to change to course of events. On the other hand, doing nothing seems equally as foolish. Or maybe just temporarily painful. Which can only mean one thing: I may very well have to accept the fact that Tess and Alex are in a relationship—for now. I may have to stand by, watch, and wait.

  Ah, this is the conundrum of humanity. To weigh the seeming futility of immediate existence against the possibility of long-term reward. It’s sort of like someone delivering a big spoiler right in the middle of the show. Do you go ahead and finish watching it, or find something else to do?

  It occurs to me that my impatience with time could be somewhat relieved by the possibility of taking this to the next level. I could allow myself the ability to time travel, periodically, just to keep me motivated. The simulator is one thing…but to actually experience it is another. I long to see, hear, feel and touch the great love of my life. If I can somehow get her alone, and the conditions are right…. Would it be possible to sync her chip with mine somehow? A delicious—and dangerous—thought, given that it would go against everything my father requested.

  What could it hurt?

  On the other hand, if I am to believe everything my messenger told me, we are destined to be together no matter what. Syncing the chips would be tempting fate, however, the temptation to do so is overwhelming, as I want true love now, as opposed to waiting for it. To destroy the chips would mean possibly years of uncertainty, followed ultimately with the happy ending I know to be true and real. To sync the chips—thus repopulating Tess’s memory completely—could prove very risky. I don’t need the CIA following me around.

  On cue, the following message shows up:

  TO: Zach

  FROM: Your father

  RE: Fate

  Let me remind you that tempting fate is not wise. However, I understand this need to press forward, to claim what you desire for the immediate gratification as opposed to waiting for things to progress naturally. Is love an absolute truth, or something you create, with what you have, in the circumstance you are in? You are old enough to make your own decisions, as well live with the consequences. Destroy the chips. Live your life.

  If this is my father, he has my best interest at heart. If it is my own self, the same is true. But if this has anything to do with the government, I should not trust a word.

  I know what you are thinking. This whole tempting fate thing could backfire. I suppose this all hinges on whether or not I buy the likelihood that I have been communicating with my father or myself, from the future. It’s a preposterous idea. The whole idea of leaving one’s physical body behind, even for a millisecond, is preposterous. I believe the mind is capable of accessing the time continuum, and even altering it…but I don’t believe this has anything to do with the body, beyond the brain itself.

  Who was it that said….. I think, therefore, I am…?

  I must rely on my own mind, my intellect…. That is the only way that makes sense. I must impress upon Tess the enormity of the connection we have, a connection that was written on the surface of time long ago…perhaps the moment we met. Everything is significant, even the smallest contact, a passing glance or word…. Can mean eternity.

  The trick is convincing someone else these things are true.

  At 7:00 p.m., I am sitting on the edge of my bed, my body still damp and warm from my recent shower. My hair feels cool on my head, as I have not dried it, but simply combed it to the side as I normally do. I pick up The Time Machine from my nightstand and open it to a random passage, as has become my habit.

  Even in our own time certain tendencies and desires, one necessary to survival, are a constant source of failure. Physical courage and the love of battle, for instance, are no great help—may even be hindrances—to a civilized man.

  I hold these words suspended like fog in my mind—with their seeming mass, yet elusive satisfaction. I have tried to grasp the concepts of truth and belief—how the latter can actually hold us back from the truth. But when the truth is right there, for the taking, it would seem a travesty of justice not to take it. I have no desire to battle circumstance for what is already mine. To do so might prove my destruction.

  Therefore, I have made my decision.

  I will return to Tess and stop her from erasing it to begin with.

  Tess

  I am walking across a cold, tiled floor in the dark. I open the refrigerator, reach for a carton of orange juice, and pour myself a glass. I set it on the counter and just before I put the carton back on the shelf, I look down at my toes, with their bright pink polish. For no apparent reason, I come up
with about a thousand adjectives to describe my toes—they are deliciously pink. They are the inside of a ripe pomegranate. A tulip. One of those fruity frozen beach drinks. An apple. The color of happy.

  Just then, I feel a warm hand across my back and I step away from the refrigerator, just before I notice a little white box setting next to the juice. I start to ask, but I already know. I take it and shut the door. A hazy film—the reflection of the harsh light on my retinas—shades my view. I close my eyes and I am in Zach’s arms, the most comfortable place in the whole world. When he kisses me, I am nothing if not completely, endlessly pink.

  Even in the dark, I can see that Zach is on the floor. He’s kneeling on one knee with the box. And would you believe, I don’t even cry? I almost laughed because I am standing there in some trendy little kitchen—mine, presumably—with lime green curtains and daisy canisters—and I am smack in the middle of a cliché: The man I love—gorgeous, amazing Zach—on bended knee, getting ready to propose. Did people still do that? But I just sigh. It’s a cliché, but a good one. See, I always knew Zach and I were meant to be together. I just never expected it to be so darn funny when it finally happened.

  Finally, a giggle works its way out, partly because I am nervous, partly because Zach is wearing those old worn out striped pajamas that looked like something my grandpa would wear. “I’m sorry,” I say, on the verge of tears. How absolutely wonky that humans are capable of laughing and crying at the same time. Pure insanity!

  Zach just grins the way he does—both innocent and cocky all at the same time. Again—wonky! “You know you want to,” he says. There. That grin again. How the heck can he be so smooth and calm right now anyway? God, I love him.

  Now I’m crying and all I can think is that I’m glad I don’t have makeup on because it would make a serious mess on my face. I get a little nervous, thinking I look like a fool. But he just reaches up with a tissue and wipes it across my cheeks like it’s no big deal. And really, it isn’t. I just don’t like to cry, especially in front of people.

  I nod, harder than is really necessary.

  “So, that’s a yes, then? You’ll marry me? Make me the happiest man on the planet?”

  I nod again and something—a cross between a whimper (uber-lame) and the English word for yes, affirmative, right on, etc.

  And then, because I’ve never been too lucky when it comes to dreams, I wake up, just before the little white box opens in Zach’s hand.

  My first thought is Alex. I think the dream is about him, because it makes sense. It fits in with what happened earlier tonight. I’m still in that fuzzy state of waking, so it takes me approximately ten seconds to realize that it was Zach proposing to me in the dream, not Alex.

  I sit straight up in my bed. What the heck? What was that about? I am still groggy, plus my head is aching like crazy. My mind swirls with images of Dani and Zach at the dance, Alex’s eyes, the music…what Cricket said about Zach having a crush on me and taking an opportunity to talk to me that night, which he did. I remember Dani flirting with John on the back deck…maybe she and Zach are splitting up. Who knows…anyway, it doesn’t matter. Alex and I are together and I plan on keeping it that way. And though I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, he makes me feel like a princess. And for me, that’s a big deal. Because I’m not really the princess type.

  I read the clock on my nightstand. It’s only 7:15 p.m. and I realize I must have dozed off while finishing my homework. On my phone, the message icon is blinking…a message from Zach:

  TO: Tess

  FROM: Zach

  RE: A dream

  A tiled floor.

  Refrigerator.

  Orange juice.

  A little white box.

  You and I both know how these things connect. I know these things because I have read your mind, but also because I have already experienced it with you. My father was not only a gifted scientist, but he was a time traveler, and he gave us a special gift. If you believe, meet me at my father’s lab tonight at 8:30.

  Yours,

  Zach

  My brain scrambles to keep up with the concepts in Zach’s email as my heartbeat quickens. Did he just have the same dream as I did? Or is this really something more—something bigger than I could ever imagine?

  I don’t know why, but something is connecting Zach and me…. And it’s time I found out what it is. Just then, I get a text from Dani:

  -It’s over…Zach saw me with John.

  -saw you…

  -kissing

  -oh…hmm…sorry?

  -that’s the way it goes

  -you don’t sound too upset

  -well i DO like john….and anyway, zach has been all distant and weird lately

  -did zach break up with you?

  -not yet

  -how do you know he saw you?

  -he texted me when it happened

  -oh…well let me know if there’s anything i can do

  -ok thx

  I take a deep breath and get ready to reply to Zach’s message. Almost simultaneously, there is a message from Alex in my inbox: Hey sunshine…thinking of you.

  Zach

  It is 7:30 when I arrive at the lab. As I was very early, I decide to go through my father’s files again and see if there is any information I have missed, anything that might confirm again what I already know, or give me clear direction. I pull up a few files that I plan on showing to Tess, starting with the first Project Zero logs which detail the link between my father’s research on her and the beginnings of time travel research.

  All of it, I realize, is quite fantastic. There is no reason why someone would believe any of it. In fact, I am starting to regret even asking Tess to come here. All of this might just push her further away. She will be convinced that I’m crazy, and this, if nothing else, might lay a rather shaky foundation for a future relationship with her, if that foundation has not already been built. I must consider that she already thinks I’m crazy. With this thought, I consider the possibility that she might not show up at all, and I start to tear up. After all my father’s (or whoever’s) advice, I have managed to sabotage the entire thing because I’m too anxious or headstrong to believe that these things take time. Have I already changed the future, just by my actions over the last few days?

  Not surprisingly, there is a message in my inbox:

  TO: Zach

  FROM: E.G.W.

  RE: Time

  It is a curious thing, about time. It exists…. Forever. It has no beginning and no end. It simply is. Remember the water analogy? The tiniest of movement can cause ripples that extend, even invisibly, indefinitely. A never-ending surface. This is why we indeed have the power to change the future. Even if we return to the past and alter the course of events to align with something we desire, thus changing the future, our newly influenced actions in the present will invariably affect the outcome. Changing the past, though certainly attractive when we don’t like the way things are, isn’t always the best solution; it can, in fact, be counterproductive, and, even futile.

  Let me explain further. When I was captured, the CIA was able to access my memory chip, thus, they already have all the information they need, and, in fact, there have been great strides taken and milestones reached in time travel that I would have never anticipated. They don’t actually need you, nor do they need my research. But what they are interested in is stopping you from releasing this secret. They want credit for all of it.

  Perhaps now you realize why I have urged you to destroy the chips and the research. I want you out of this entirely, and I want you to be safe. Trust me, your life will be good. You will have the things you desire. But if you continue to pursue this research, or tell anyone about it…. I hate to imagine the outcome. Please, I urge you to heed my request.

  Sincerely,

  Your father

  If all of this didn’t make really good sense, I’d be angry right now. He left me with all this information, and now I can’t do anything with it? Even if I vo
wed to keep it a secret for the rest of my life, I’d always wonder if the CIA was watching me.

  It’s now 8:30 and no sign of Tess yet. I make a split second decision and shut down the computer. There has to be another way. I must find a way to sync my chip with Tess’s, undetected. I gather up my things and head outside.

  The sky has clouded up, and I throw my hood over my head, make my way to my car. It starts to sprinkle and I see a pair of headlights coming down the street. The headlights pull into the lot, directly behind my car. Tess. She’s decided to give me a chance. A spasm ripples through my stomach and my heart. This is the beginning. Maybe I won’t have to tell her anything—about time travel, my father’s research, none of it. Maybe she is intrigued enough to simply give me a chance. If so, I will cling to that chance and never let it go. I will destroy everything and take the secret to my grave.

  When I see both the driver and the passenger doors open, I am immediately taken back. Who has Tess brought with her? Alex? Dani? This is not a good sign.

  How will I explain myself? My behavior over the past few days? I can’t tell them the truth….

  I am reminded of Wells’s poor Time Traveler, who had a life-changing experience—something so incredible and amazing that no one could ever dream it up—and was unable to communicate it to others. Perhaps this is the greatest tragedy, to have this wonderful, incredible gift and be unable to share it with someone else.

  Is this how a great love story ends? With one heart that believes, hopes, and longs for a future that he sees so clearly, and another that will never see it?

  A man in a black trench coat steps out of the passenger side and another from the driver’s side. I am so startled I want to run, but yet I am immobilized. The first one approaches me. He is clean shaven, his light brown hair trimmed close to his head. His skin is scarred from acne and his eyes are kind.

  “Are you Zach Webb?”