“Kid, you watch way too much TV.” Gil laughed. “What’s wrong with stopping a killer from killing?”
“But is this even legal?”
“Sure it is. The Temporal Counseling Program—TEMCO for short—operates under full government approval. After GAP was invented, Congress voted to—”
“Wait a sec, what’s GAP?”
“It’s TEMCO’s Grappling-And-Positioning computer. All around you are radio waves, cosmic waves, and electromagnetic waves. Timewaves are no different than those other invisible waves—they’re sailing around you at this very moment. GAP harnesses timewaves and allows us to surf them.”
“And you use GAP to help people?” he asked.
She nodded. “Since Congress voted to allow time surfing, the number of violent crimes has dropped significantly throughout our nation.”
“I don’t see how,” he said gruffly, tossing a rock in the brook.
“Look at the ripples from the rock you just threw. If you take a violent person and transform him into peaceful person, that act ripples through time. One person’s positive change echoes throughout the years, making things better.”
“Do you ever fail?”
Gil hesitated. “Only rarely and never with someone as young and good-hearted as you. You are gonna be a success. I feel it in my bones, and my bones never lie.”
“So what do we do first?” he asked, giving her a wobbly smile.
“First, we go to your house and throw away the kitchen butcher knife.” Gil laughed and tousled his hair. “Then we get down to some serious business.”
CHAPTER TEN
Mr. Jacobson sat on his porch and waited for Danny’s return. He was of half a mind to call the police, but he wasn’t sure he should. He sighed. He’d definitely be keeping an eye—two eyes—on what was going on next door. It was good to mind one’s own business, but it was also good to keep an eye out for a youngster who needed help. He’d never liked the look of Rick. He couldn’t understand why a nice lady like Danny’s momma let him hang around her house.
Mr. Jacobson felt a rush of relief as Danny walked out from the forest. “Hi, there,” he called, lifting a blue-veined hand in greeting.
He watched as Danny waved back and then the boy paused and cocked his head like he was listening to something. Mr. Jacobson tapped his fingers against his knees. Something strange was definitely going on.
Danny walked over to him. “Sir, I’ve thought about your offer. Can I talk with your grandson—the one who’s a policeman?”
“Sure thing. Nathan’s coming over for supper tomorrow at 5:30. If you like, you can join us. That work for you?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“You gonna be okay until then? I can call Nathan and get him over here tonight.”
“No, that’s fine. I’ll see you for supper tomorrow.”
As Danny moved away, the old man rose from his chair. He was going to call his grandsons and get some advice.
* * *
Gil placed a hand on Danny’s shoulder as they walked down the sidewalk. “That was perfect,” she said. “By getting a policeman involved, we’re getting the ball rolling in the right direction.”
“What’s next?” he asked as they walked toward his house.
“Next, we take a serious look at your homework.”
Danny groaned and made a face. “I thought you were here to help me with Rick—not school.”
“I’m here to help you with everything. Education’s important.”
“You sound just like my mom.”
“I’m gonna sound even more like her in a minute. After we look at your homework, we’re cleaning up your room. It looks like a tornado hit it.”
* * *
Twenty-four years into the future, Ryan entered a classroom on the eighth floor of Curie Hall. It was time to take his Quantum Mechanics 645 final, and he was hoping like mad that he was prepared. Although the final for Quantum Mechanics was reputed to be much easier than the one for Timewave Dynamics, Ryan knew that any test designed by Dr. Ableman was probably a killer.
Stepping into the crowded classroom, he spotted Crystal in her customary spot—front-row center—and smiled. She’d saved him a seat. Sitting down beside her, he tapped a finger on her desk to get her attention. “Where were you last night? I tried to call you, but you didn’t answer.”
Crystal blushed and looked uncomfortable. “Sorry about that.”
Ryan groaned. “You lost your cell phone again, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t lose it. I just misplaced it. There’s a world of difference.”
“Not much. Where’d you misplace it this time?”
“I think on the lawn between Student Union and Hawking Hall. Either that or in the library. Or maybe in the Tech Lab. It’s not in my car or under my sofa cushions—I checked. But it might be in the pocket of my dirty blue jeans, or maybe it’s at Zeke’s house.”
“That sounds like the definition of lost.”
“I wouldn’t say so. Webster defines ‘lost’ as unable to be found or no longer possessed. I have every expectation of finding my phone, and even though it’s not currently in my hand, I certainly still possess it—I just paid my phone bill.”
Ryan raised his hands in surrender and laughed. “I never could triumph in a verbal battle with you—it’s pointless to try now.”
Crystal flashed him a smile. “So, why were you trying to call me?”
“I was hoping to pick your brain. Black Body Radiation and the Planck Constant were giving me fits.”
“Do you want me to explain them?” she asked, opening her notebook.
“No need. I finally figured them out around 2:00 a.m.”
Crystal winced. “You pulled an all-nighter? Are you okay?”
“Sure, I took a few catnaps between classes today.” Stretching his arms over his head, he yawned and quirked an eyebrow. “I was so desperate for help last night that I went to the library to find you, but you weren’t there.”
Crystal’s lips twitched. “Okay, I’ll admit it—I wasn’t studying at all. I was painting the town red.”
“I’ll bet you still get an A+.” Reaching over, he tugged a curl bobbing beside her ear. “Sometimes it’s a pain to be around a genius who doesn’t have to study.”
“I study,” she protested. “I study a lot! I’ve been preparing all week for this final.”
Ryan grinned and changed the subject. “So what part of the town did you paint?”
“Zeke took me to this cool Japanese restaurant, and I tried sushi for the first time.”
“Did you like it?”
“That depends on whether I listen to my taste buds or brain.”
“That comment needs explaining.”
“It’s simple. My taste buds kept telling me that sushi was absolutely yummy, but my brain kept rebelling at the thought of eating raw fish. Whenever my brain got the upper hand, my gag reflex kicked in. I spent the night licking my chops while trying not to barf. It was an interesting sensation, to say the least.”
Ryan grinned. “I’ll bet Zeke had a blast introducing you to Japanese cuisine.”
Crystal’s face fell. “He did at first, but then he had another migraine.”
“It wasn’t as bad as the one he had Easter Sunday, was it?”
“It was worse. We had to leave the restaurant early. I drove him home and then took a taxi to my apartment.”
Ryan whistled in disbelief. “Zeke must’ve been half-dead to end the night like that.”
“He was in so much pain he didn’t even insist on giving me cab fare—not that I would’ve taken it. I wanted to help him to bed and sleep on his couch, but he wouldn’t let me. He said it wouldn’t look right.”
“It wouldn’t have.”
Crystal glared. “Don’t you start too! You guys and your silly sense of honor. Zeke’s my friend, and he was in trouble. In times like that, propriety can take a hike.”
Ryan shook his head but let it pass. “Has he see
n a doctor?”
“Several of them, and they all say the same thing. He needs heavy-duty medication. They want him to carry an EpiPen and inject himself at the first sign of trouble.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“Maybe, but he won’t do it. His father had a history of substance abuse, and Zeke doesn’t want to get dependent on any chemical—even a helpful one.”
Ryan sighed. “So what’s his plan?”
“He doesn’t have one. The stiff-necked jerk’s gonna suffer through the pain until his head explodes.”
“I suppose that’s his prerogative.”
“Maybe for a while, but soon, he won’t have a choice. His migraines are coming more frequently and are escalating in intensity. The EpiPen is going to become a necessity before long.” She chewed her lip. “I just hope the medicine’s enough.”
Seeing her worried face, Ryan said softly, “You know something about his migraines, don’t you?”
“I don’t know—I suspect.” Giving a gusty sigh, she opened her notebook to a paper-clipped section of neatly written dates. “I’ve been collecting data and I’ve figured out that every time Zeke comes home from a time surf, he ends up experiencing a migraine. I think it has something to do with cranial resistivity and cascading synaptic irritation due to magnetic field diffusion when sinusoidal timewaves are disseminated.”
Trying to mentally untangle her last sentence—and utterly failing—Ryan asked simply, “How long have you been keeping track?”
“For over a year. I wanted to be sure I was right about the cause.”
“You’re sure now?”
She nodded. “At first, the migraines occurred a few days after Zeke came home from an assignment. Now, they’re occurring within hours. If the pattern continues, he’ll eventually experience incapacitating migraines immediately after stepping through a temporal portal at the start of an assignment.”
“That’d end his career as a professional time counselor, wouldn’t it?”
As Crystal nodded miserably, Ryan asked, “Have you told him?”
“I doubt he’d believe me, and even if he did, he’d refuse to do anything about it. Time counseling is his life.”
“I wouldn’t blame him for ignoring the facts. I’d hate to leave TEMCO.”
“He doesn’t have to leave, he just needs to stop going through temporal portals. He’d still be in the mix of things if he switched career paths and became a lab tech.”
“Would that end his migraines?”
“Not completely,” she replied, flipping to a page of mathematical equations. “But after crunching the numbers, I’ve concluded the risk of migraines would be negligible. He’d still be exposed to timewaves in the lab, but the exposure would be of an indirect nature. As long as he worked reasonable hours and avoided stress, hopefully, his migraines would be manageable with medication.”
Ryan looked at her calculations and scratched his head. He couldn’t begin to understand the complicated math, but he knew Crystal was smart enough to get it right. Not wanting to appear completely moronic, he studied the numbers for a while before he said slowly, “I see what you mean. Are you going to tell Zeke?”
She closed her notebook. “Like I said, he wouldn’t listen if I did. When it comes to his work, he’s as stubborn as they come.”
“Then you need to talk to Director Matthews.”
“Go behind Zeke’s back?” Crystal looked horrified. “I couldn’t do that!”
“If it’s a matter of his health, you don’t have a choice. The director will rope Zeke into lab work without hurting his pride.”
“I don’t know,” she said, cramming her notebook into her backpack. “I need to think about it some more.”
Seeing her worried frown, Ryan changed the subject. “You actually drove Zeke’s eggbeater last night? I can’t believe you got it to run.”
“It only ran after a fashion,” she said with a weak chuckle. “I killed it a thousand times. I kept popping the clutch and stalling at stoplights.”
“Sounds like an interesting ride.”
“It wasn’t interesting, it was awful! The blasted thing wouldn’t go into second. We crept home at a snail’s pace.”
“I’ll bet you’re glad your rust bucket’s an automatic.”
“That’s an understatement. After graduation, I’m going to buy a new car, but I’m gonna make doggone sure it’s an automatic too. And when I buy it, my new car’s gonna be small enough to make parking a breeze. I’m sick of parallel parking huge boats.”
“But, Cris, you parallel park so bea-u-tifully.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Don’t give me problems. You’re the one who asked me to park your car yesterday.”
“I said park it, not squeeze it in so tightly I couldn’t move it later.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t abandon your car in the middle of the road. That tiny space was the only one available for miles. Next time you toss me your keys and ask for a favor, the answer’s gonna be no.”
“Have a heart.”
“I have one, and it’s definitely agreeing with me.”
Before Ryan could respond, Marc slid into the desk next to him. Ryan saw Crystal’s laughter dying on her lips. As she turned away and became occupied with studying her textbook, he sighed and said to Marc, “So, are you ready for the test?”
“I hope so,” Marc replied with a pointed glance in Crystal’s direction. “I’ll be fine unless Miss Einstein breaks the bell curve again.”
Ryan watched as Crystal hunched her shoulders and twisted a bit of hair around her finger. She was obviously upset. Just then, William came into the classroom, balancing a briefcase and a stack of exams.
“What’s the matter with Dr. Ableman?” Crystal whispered. “He looks like he’s under a ton of stress.”
Ryan shrugged and whispered back, “He looks okay to me.”
“But his hands are shaking,” she said impatiently.
“Maybe he drank too much coffee.”
“But he’s wearing mismatched socks!”
Before Ryan could reply, William cleared his throat. “Today’s final is timed. All papers will be collected in two hours. I’ll hold a recapitulation session for Quantum Mechanics this Thursday at 11:00 a.m. in Hertz Hall. At that time, your graded finals will be returned.”
Marc asked, “Is the review session required?”
William shook his head. “It’s only recommended. However, I’d advise those desiring to work for TEMCO to be sure and attend.” William put down his briefcase. “A sign-up sheet has been posted in the main office for those wishing to assist in the summer shutdown of the lab. As juniors, this will be your first opportunity to actually participate. It’s an experience you shouldn’t miss.”
While William handed out the finals, Ryan whispered to Crystal, “Doc sounds the same as usual. Are you still convinced something’s wrong?”
She nodded. “Now more than ever. He just split two infinitives.”
* * *
When they walked through Danny’s front door, Gil wrinkled her nose at the overwhelming smell of beer. “You don’t drink, do you?”
Danny shook his head. “The booze belongs to Rick. Me and Mom never touch the stuff.”
“Good. There wasn’t anything in your file about alcoholism, and you never mentioned it during our interviews, but I—”
“Wait a sec! You talked with the grown-up me? What was I like? Was I tall? Rick says I’m scrawny. Do I get big?”
“I’ll say you do. You’re over six feet tall.”
“Am I good looking?”
“The fire scarred your face, but it couldn’t hide the fact that you’re gonna be awfully cute when you grow up.”
“Did you like the grown-up me? Was I nice?”
Gil bit her lip and hesitated. “You were on death row when I met you, but you were polite to me.” Seeing his face fall, she said quickly, “I’m sure if your life had turned out differently you’d have been a very nice pers
on—someone I’d like for a friend.” As he smiled, she said, “Hey, did you know you can sing?”
He shook his head. “You sure about that?”
“Positive. I heard you singing in your cell one day. You have a magnificent voice. Who knows? Maybe you’re gonna become a rock star when we get things straightened out.” She went over to the kitchen counter and threw away some empty yogurt containers. “What time does your mom come home tonight?”
“Not until midnight. She’s working the late shift at the hospital.”
“Is she a nurse?”
“Nah, she’s the receptionist at the emergency room. She always wanted to be a nurse, but she never got the schooling.”
Gil began brushing breadcrumbs from the counter. “And Rick—when will he be back?”
“Not until tomorrow afternoon. He was called into work.”
“Does he live here too?”
“He’d like to, but Mom won’t let him. She says it ain’t proper.”
“Isn’t proper,” Gil corrected. “So, we don’t have to worry about seeing him for a while?”
Danny nodded.
“Well, then, let’s get the first order of business done. Where’s the butcher knife?”
Danny went over to a drawer and pulled out a lethal-looking knife.
Seeing it, Gil shuddered. “Does your mom use it very often?”
“Nah, she works so much that she never cooks anymore.”
Gil shoved the trashcan toward him with her foot. “In that case, I’ll let you have the honor of throwing it away.”
Danny tossed the knife in with the empty beer bottles and asked, “Does this mean I’m not gonna kill Rick?”
“I can’t see how you can stab him without a knife, can you?”
Danny laughed, tied up the bag, and took it to the garbage can in front of the garage. When he came back inside, Gil did a little jig and said gleefully, “You realize we’ve just taken a great big step in reconstructing your future, don’t you?”
As Danny smiled, Gil put a broom in his hand. “Let’s do something nice for your mom. You sweep, and I’ll do the dishes. Where do you keep the dish soap?”
“Under the sink.”
“Okay, spill,” she demanded as she turned on the faucet. “What’s going on between you and Rick? Why’s he here?”
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