Even if I am just a mirage.
Sarah shakes her head sadly. Then gathers up a section of hair and gets to work.
I glance over at Daniel during the process. The more Sarah cuts, the more he seems to have that same look in his eyes that Red did every time Dr. Venn held out a treat for him.
“What?” I ask.
There’s just one long section left. Sarah snips it off. And now Daniel has a kind of grin I don’t think I’ve ever seen on him.
“What’s going on?” I ask him. “Does it look weird or something?” I reach back to feel the thick, blunt ends.
Now Sarah is smiling at me, too.
“What?” I ask them both.
Sarah leans forward and gives me a hug. “Hello, Audie. Nice to see you again. Now I really believe it’s you.” She pulls back and gives me one more appraising look. “Yes. The cousin.”
“The cousin,” Daniel agrees.
I have to go look at it for myself.
I hop up and cross the hall to the bathroom and shut myself inside. I feel almost shy about looking at myself. But then I stand in front of the mirror.
Hello, stranger. Welcome back. I smile at my reflection. I know that girl.
Yes, her shoulders are still broader than their at-home ones, her arms are bigger, she’s a little bit taller.
But from the neck up, Hi.
Now I understand that silly-looking grin on Daniel’s face, because I’ve got it, too. I can’t help it. I’m just so glad to see me. After too many times of looking in the mirror and finding Halli Markham staring back, it’s a relief to finally see a more recognizable me.
But there’s something else: I feel like I’m finally close. I’m inching my way back to my real life, one small action at a time. Yes, maybe I’ll only be able to visit as a bilocated version of myself, but at least I’ll be able to consult with Professor Whitfield again. At least I’ve brought him the plans for the machine. Maybe in time that will lead to a permanent solution to all of this. I just have to be patient and have faith.
“Keep going,” I tell the girl in the mirror. We all need a pep talk sometimes. And sometimes the best person to deliver it is the one who knows exactly what you’re going through and exactly how you feel. “I have faith in you,” I whisper. “You’re smart and you’re brave and you’ll figure all of this out. Keep going, Audie. You’re close.”
I splash water on my face and then blow my nose. Compose myself. I can’t stand here all night just gazing at my reflection. There’s too much work to do.
I return to Daniel’s room and the three of us divide up the files. “I’m not sure what we’re looking for,” I tell Sarah, “so just keep your eye out for anything unusual. I’d like to get through all of these tonight. If Dr. Venn is … feeling better in the morning—” I almost say still alive, but I don’t want to even consider the alternative right now. “—then I want to be able to be able to ask him as many questions as I can before his granddaughter kicks us out.”
“And then we go back to his office?” Daniel asks me.
“Back to the machine,” I confirm. “I need to see more of that future. I want to know what it is I did that got me there.”
59
“Ten minutes,” Madeline tells us.
Daniel and I exchange a look. He’s probably thinking the same thing I am, which is that ten minutes feels like a complete luxury compared to only two. We’ll try to make good use of it.
Dr. Venn is sitting up in bed. Instead of the full oxygen mask, he’s only wearing the small prongs that fit in his nose. His eyes are closed. But as soon as Red leaps onto the bed, he opens them.
“Red!” He hugs his frail arms around the dog. Red does his usual therapy dog bit by lying fully stretched out next to the patient and wagging his tail in obvious delight. I remember how much I loved it when he visited me and did the same thing. I understand Dr. Venn’s smile.
I hold up the microphone and earphones Daniel thought to bring back from the office last night.
“Oh, yes,” Dr. Venn says. “Very good.”
I plug us both into the trapezoid and gently slip the earphones over his head.
Dr. Venn clasps his fingers around my wrist. He takes a deep breath from the oxygen, then says, “I’m sorry I lied to you. About who I am.”
“It’s okay, Dr. Venn. I understand.”
“I’m so used to keeping all my secrets,” he says. “But I should have told you—you of all people, Audie. I’m very sorry.”
“Really,” I tell him. “It’s fine.”
I don’t want to waste any of our precious ten minutes—probably only eight by now—with him worrying he has to apologize. I have much more important things to discuss.
Dr. Venn beats me to it.
“You asked me last night,” he starts to say, but then he has to pause to cough. And even though it still sounds awful, it’s still a lot better than yesterday. He clears this throat and draws in a breath before starting again. “You asked how you could see Halli’s grandmother.”
“Yes. Exactly. You told me to follow the thread.”
He takes another deep breath, then pats the dog on the head. Red snuggles in a little closer.
“The thread holds one parallel lifetime to another,” Dr. Venn explains. “But you can go beyond your parallel. First you need that initial connection. But even after some version of you dies, the rest of that world, and all the people you used to love, still go on until it’s their natural turn to die. Edgar and I spent hours sometimes just looking around in places where other versions of us used to live. It’s a wonderful way to experience history as it unfolds.”
I’d love to hear more about that, but my time is ticking away. I probably only have about three minutes left.
“Dr. Venn, I saw myself last night. In my old world. I think it was just a projection of me—a bilocation—but I was showing my professor friend a copy of the drawing we found for how to construct the machine.”
“Were you?” Dr. Venn asks. “Very good.”
“So do you think we could do it?” I ask. “If I can bring him all the directions and the dimensions?”
“I did it,” he says. “Edgar told me how to do it, and I made one of my own.”
“How long did it take you?”
“About two months. Some of the materials were hard to replicate—they have specialized metals here that I had to find substitutes for.”
“Is that written down anywhere?” Daniels asks.
“Not here,” Dr. Venn says. “Everything was back in my old office.”
I’m about to admit it’s pretty unlikely we’d ever find that, even if he gave us his old address, when Dr. Venn adds, “But I remember it all. Very clearly. You can write it down.”
Madeline stands in the doorway. “That will do,” she tells us.
“When?” I ask Dr. Venn. “Today?”
He consults his stern granddaughter. “Maddy? Can these young people come see me again this afternoon? It would do an old man good.” He gives me a sly wink, but then unfortunately follows it up with a body-shaking coughing fit.
“Out,” Madeline tells us as she hurries over to help him. I quickly remove the earphones from his head and pick up the rest of the equipment and tug Red off the bed by his collar. Then the three of retreat out of the room and keep on going out to the street.
My driver is there waiting for us. He’s wearing a much more casual outfit than I’m used to seeing him in—for one thing, it doesn’t have the company logo OPS embroidered over the pocket—and the car he’s driving isn’t the luxurious black sedan I’ve been riding around in while I’m here.
I was a little confused when I came out of Daniel’s house this morning and found Wilkinson waiting for me just like he is right now, but by the time I reached the car I understood.
Halli’s parents had removed that particular privilege. But Wilkinson showed up on his own. I’m sure if they found out, they’d fire him.
So I hired him on the spot.
It’s not like I really need a driver. And it’s a little strange to be driven around in a car that’s even older than the one my mom and I share at home. But it’s definitely nice to have someone on call so I don’t have to waste time figuring out how to get from point A to point B. This morning, for example, from Daniel’s house to the Oxford hospital to the Oxford campus. Then I’ll want to reverse it all this afternoon.
“Thank you,” I tell Wilkinson as he closes the door behind us.
The back seat isn’t nearly as roomy. And there isn’t a divider between the front and the back. But it’s clean in here, and the car still drives itself while Wilkinson goes back to reading his book, and I can obviously afford to pay someone and probably treat him better than Halli’s parents have been doing.
Decision made. Done. No regrets.
Daniel and Red and I cozy up on the shorter seat. I don’t mind being stuck between my two boys.
And it’s fine to be quiet on our way to Dr. Venn’s office. Daniel and I already discussed the plan on our way out to the car. We both know what I’m going to do.
I argued for the maximum amount of time—five hours. Daniel argued for two.
“You don’t know how it will affect you,” he said. “You were a wreck last night. You can’t deny that.”
“But we brought food this time,” I remind him. “I’ll have a snack before I go in, then I’ll eat as soon as I get out. That’s really been the main problem.”
What I don’t want is another situation like last night where it feels like I’ve barely gotten started, and suddenly the voice in my earphones is calling me back. I need to have more time. I want to follow out the thread of the life I got a glimpse of, and treat what I see as a map. I want to know some of the twists and turns ahead so I can backtrack and make sure I do everything right.
So we finally agreed on a compromise: three hours in the machine.
I hope I can get a lot done in three hours.
Wilkinson stops the car in its usual place and comes around to open the door. Then he hands me his card so I can contact him whenever I want.
“It’s going to be awhile,” I tell him. “Probably not until after lunch. So go ahead and do whatever you want for a while.”
“I’ll stay in the vicinity,” he tells me. Then he smiles. “It’s my first day on the job, Miss Markham. I want to make a good impression.”
“You already did, Wilkinson. Thanks. We’ll see you in a few hours.”
Red bounds ahead, stirring up yellow leaves while he sniffs his way along our route. Daniel and I walk hand in hand. I don’t care anymore if anyone sees us or stares at us or even films us for some history program. All of that seems so insignificant now. It seems so … three days ago.
“Tell me about some of the people who will be at the party tonight.” I’m feeling a little nervous right now, and I could use the distraction.
Daniel squeezes my hand. “I’d rather talk about you. I’d still prefer only two hours. If all goes well, you can rest, eat, and then go again for another two hours this afternoon.”
I know that sounds reasonable, but I just don’t want it. My time in that world last night ended so abruptly, I can’t go through that again. I need to know that I have plenty of time to explore. That I can follow the Audie thread for a while, then the Halli thread, and see if there’s a point where maybe I can finally take over.
So I stick to the three hours. Decision made. Done. No regrets.
Before I go into the machine room I eat a few figs and take a few sips of water. That’s about all my stomach wants to handle right now. I’m getting more nervous by the minute.
This needs to work. I need to find my way back there again. And this time I need to understand what lies in my future.
Once I’m in the machine I let Daniel attach all the straps on my legs, but then I hug him before he can strap in my arms. I run my fingers through the sides of his short hair, and give him a reassuring kiss.
“I’ll be fine. I love you. I’ll see you in three hours.”
“I’ll be watching the monitors every minute.”
One more hug, one more kiss, then it’s time.
Daniel fastens the rest of the straps, including the one across my head. Then he lowers the earphones and the goggles.
And I’m off to the sound of the pings.
60
I decide to do it the way I did last night: keep hidden, watch, don’t let anyone know I’m here.
I start back in my bedroom. Halli is asleep. It’s around three in the morning on Tuesday here right now. I don’t know if Halli ended up going back to school yesterday, or giving up and staying home.
I don’t want to waste time finding out.
I reach down for the thread of this life, pick it up, and start pulling myself along.
Stop after just a few pulls.
Halli riding in a car with Daniel. No, not Daniel—this is the other one, Colin. Halli has the window down and the wind is whipping up my hair. Her eyes are closed, she’s relaxed, she looks happy. Colin glances over at her and looks pretty happy himself.
That’s nice for them. But too bad—I don’t want them to have it. Because if they’re on a road trip together, it means Halli has still run away and probably still not left my mom a note saying where she was going. I can’t let her do that.
I turn and start pulling in the other direction.
Halli standing at the base of a cliff. She has a harness around her waist and she’s holding a rope and looking up. I look up, too. There’s a young woman crawling up a long sheer wall. Halli shouts out, “That’s right, April, keep going! You’ve got it!” The climber smiles grimly to herself, then moves her left hand into the tiniest of cracks. Steadies herself. Moves a foot. Then next hand.
Nope.
I keep searching for the right length of thread. Go back just a little further, stop.
Halli pulling herself along the railing of a boat. Rain is lashing against her face. She hurries to secure some rope pulled taut against a tarp. A man inside the cabin of the boat shouts out instructions. Halli nods and keeps working along the railing to the next lump of equipment covered in a tarp.
This makes no sense.
I thought I was pulling myself backward, not forward, but maybe I’ve lost my sense of direction. Like a drowning person underwater who doesn’t understand which way is up. All of these scenes have to be what happens after Halli leaves here. Obviously none of them happened before.
Unless …
I stop exactly where I am, with Halli still on a boat in a storm.
Am I looking at a different past?
Is this retro-causation? Has the Halli who became me rewritten her own version of my life before that, and become someone I’m not? Someone I never was?
Maybe the scenes I saw yesterday were just a few in a whole variety of possibilities. And somehow in the past twelve or fourteen hours, these new possibilities I’m looking at right now have become the more probable ones.
Maybe I’m too late. Maybe I’ve already lost my opportunity.
“Audie?”
I hear the word and look up. I’m back in my room, and Halli is sitting upright in bed, whispering into the dark. “Audie, are you here?”
I am now. I make myself a body. And stand in front of my bed.
“Hi!” Halli whispers. “Are you here for a while? Do you have time to talk?”
My mind is still reeling. I don’t understand what I just saw.
But talking sounds like a good idea.
Halli leaps out of bed and gets dressed, and the two of us sneak out of the house into the cold dark night.
I’ve been mostly silent so far, because I don’t know what to say. I’ve lost the threads I found yesterday. Is that future gone?
“Tell me what happened today,” I say. Maybe that’s where the change took place. Something Halli did created a new future, and my other one is lost.
Circumstance and choices. This is free will in action. Hal
li has every right to live her life—even her life as me—whatever way she wants.
Even if it ruins what might have been a happy future for me.
Halli describes her day. From leaving class when I saw her, to going for a long run, to talking to Professor Whitfield and Albert that afternoon. I don’t remember every detail of the Monday she spent last time, but that all sounds about the same so far.
“Did you go back to school in the afternoon?” I ask her. “Talk to the counselor about graduating early?”
“No.”
“So no one told you I could graduate early if I passed algebra?”
“What?” Halli says. “No.”
Great. Now I have no idea what’s going to happen.
We walk along my old neighborhood street in silence while I think.
“What do you want?” I ask Halli.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if you could go forward from right now, what would you want to see happen?”
“Obviously I’d like to go back,” she says. “Switch places with you.”
“But what if we can never do that?” I ask. “What would you do with a life here?”
Halli considers that for a moment. “I suppose I’d start over. Go back to doing what I know. Maybe find a job guiding in the mountains someplace. Or … I don’t really know. I haven’t thought about it much. The truth is I’ve been waiting for you and Professor Whitfield to sort this all out.”
“Halli …” I don’t know what I’m allowed to say. I don’t know if there are any rules. I know I’m not supposed to interfere with someone’s own free will, but this has to be different—I’m outside her head, not in it. We’re just talking. I’m just giving her information.
So I give her information. “Let me tell you what I saw.”
I describe all the scenes I viewed last night. Tell her about the machine, and bilocation, and the two Dr. Venns. Tell her what Dr. Venn told me this morning, about being able to replicate the machine here in my world.
Parallelogram Omnibus Edition Page 94