What Tomorrow May Bring

by Tony Bertauski

  “Yeah, so what? Didn’t they only do it with subatomic particles? It’s not like they can do it with people.”

  “Well, that’s sort of time travel, right? At least we know it’s not impossible.”

  “So, what, your plan is to break into a particle accelerator and try to crawl into it or something?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just… an idea.”

  Janie raised her eyebrows. “Okay. Well, let’s try to think of some other, more plausible ideas as well.”

  Alessa conceded that the particle accelerator idea was far-fetched, but it was the best she had to go on at the moment. And it was far better than nothing. Alessa felt hopeful for the first time since she had read the article about the fire.

  At least she had a plan for what she needed to research next. “Okay. I’ll see what I can dig up about time travel theories and any scientific studies that have been done. Who knows, maybe we’ll get a lucky break.”

  “Okay, sounds like a plan.”

  Alessa sprung up from the bed with a renewed sense of determination. She would find some way to help Isaac. She had to.

  The next day passed by painfully slowly. Alessa had crammed in some quick research about time travel in between – and sometimes during – class, but she hadn’t managed to turn up anything very useful.

  Using the academic journal database on the library’s website, she was able to find the research journal where the results of the particle accelerator experiment were published, but she could barely comprehend anything written in the report. The journal was targeted toward a readership of other scientists, not laypeople, and it assumed a level of understanding about quantum physics that Alessa simply did not possess. She saved a copy of the article, but it wasn’t much use to her at the moment.

  After that she had decided to try a wider search of the internet for time travel theories. There was plenty of information, but she soon discovered that it was difficult to distinguish between science fiction and science fact.

  She found an abundance of elaborate crackpot hypotheses that went way over Alessa’s head, but even respectable sources reported findings that seemed fantastical. One article by a noted physicist explained that scientific studies had nearly proven that there were actually 11 dimensions – the three dimensions of space, the fourth dimension of time, and seven other “dimensions” that Alessa could not seem to visualize in any way.

  Alessa could not fathom how one might go about proving such a thing, but she read that supposedly all of these dimensions are wound together and sometimes folded up in ways that might allow a jump from one point of a dimension to another, for example, from today to a time in the past or future. According to the article, these tiny “wormholes” in time are apparently constantly opening and closing all around, but they’re just so small that they can’t be detected.

  Theoretically, if one could capture and enlarge a wormhole, that would create a tunnel that a human could pass through to reach a different time.

  The article went on to explain that this would create opportunities for paradoxes – for people to change the past in ways that would affect the future – which should be a physical impossibility due to the laws of cause and effect. There wasn’t much understanding of how this could be possible or what consequences it might have, but Alessa was intrigued nonetheless.

  Perhaps there was something about her house that was causing these naturally occurring wormholes to expand, and that was why she and Isaac were able to see each other for a few moments until the hole closed again.

  When she returned home from class, her mind was spinning with the possibilities. She’d never given much thought to the idea of time travel, which she had assumed was an aspiration firmly lodged in the realm of fantasy. But the day’s research had shown her that real, legitimate scientists were pursuing this field of study, and it gave her hope that she might somehow be able to warn Isaac and prevent the tragedy from happening. And if she could help Isaac, maybe someday she could save her parents as well.

  Back in her room, Alessa took a long look at herself in the mirror. Was it possible that the Isaac she was seeing was not a ghost, but a glimpse of the real Isaac during the past? If this was the case, could she really help him? It seemed risky to meddle with the flow of time to save him, but her eyes burned with conviction. She had to try.

  At almost the same moment that Alessa resolved to move forward with her investigation, she noticed a twitch behind her in the reflection of the mirror. She turned around just as Isaac finished materializing in front of her, not four feet away.

  Her body trembled as the familiar wave of emotions washed over her, the fear and the sorrow and the longing. But she refused to succumb to the turmoil that threatened to overwhelm her. Now was her chance. She had to act.

  He was looking straight at her, his jaw slack. He seemed to be waiting for her to make a move, but Alessa struggled to find her voice. She managed to choke out, “Isaac.”

  Isaac concentrated on Alessa’s face and leaned in slightly, as if listening closely. Had he heard her?

  “Isaac, there’s going to be a fire.”

  He shook his head, looking bewildered, as Alessa continued speaking. Finally he pointed at his ear. She realized he couldn’t hear what she was saying.

  “Fire! Fire!” Alessa shouted the word, desperately hoping he would understand.

  It was clear that he didn’t.

  What else could she do? She groped for ideas and decided to try to mime it to him – striking a match, mimicking a small blaze with her fingertips, putting it out with a fire extinguisher. She felt ridiculous; she’d never been good at charades. Did they even have fire extinguishers back then?

  Isaac looked baffled. This exercise was hopeless.

  Alessa threw her hands to her head. Think. Think. She racked her mind for ideas, frenziedly searching for a way to make him understand. A solution occurred to her.

  She darted to the desk and scribbled one word on an open notebook: “FIRE.” Tossing the pen, she ripped the page from the spine and turned, holding it up for Isaac to see. But he was already gone.

  18. DILEMMA

  Isaac crouched behind the corner of the cool gray wall, taking slow measured breaths as his heart pounded in his throat. He tried to calm his nerves, but he knew he was in more danger than he had ever been before. He needed to perform now. If he was caught, there was no telling what they might do. And it wasn’t just for himself that he feared.

  Isaac looked back at his companion, who crouched next to him beside the wall. He looked up at Isaac, flashing striking blue eyes not unlike Isaac’s own. He had Isaac’s light brown hair as well, but a more robust muscular frame.

  “Just a minute, Isaac,” he whispered. “I think it will look suspicious if we’re both carrying heavy packs.” His partner was unloading a large canvas sack of stolen food into the various pockets of his cargo pants and worn woolen coat. He crumpled the empty knapsack and tossed it behind him. “Okay, I’m ready. Do you remember the plan?”

  Isaac nodded, but fear surged through his veins. This was his opportunity to prove himself, to show the world that he was worth something. If he could do it, maybe someday he’d be able to make up for everything he’d cost his loved ones.

  His partner seemed determined as well. “Put the backpack on now. If they catch us, you pretend that you have no idea what’s going on. Don’t try to play the hero – there’s no sense in both of us going down. If I’m captured, I need you here to take care of Less.”

  Isaac gulped and nodded again. He was determined to swallow his fear. He would make his partner proud.

  As if he’d heard Isaac’s thoughts, his partner placed a hand on Isaac’s shoulder and offered a reassuring squeeze. “Listen, you’re going to do great. Just act casual. We’ll waltz across the compound, meet the others in the alley to make the drop, and no one will notice a thing.” As usual, he exuded a showy air of confidence that Isaac could only ever hope to achieve.

 
Isaac peeked around the corner, a light breeze rousing the dust from the frozen ground. They were only steps away from safety, but first they had to cross 40 open yards in full sight of the guards. Other residents of the compound milled about the square; Isaac just needed to blend in. He took another deep breath. “Okay, let’s do it.”

  Isaac and his partner stood up. They stepped out from behind the building and strolled through the center of the clearing, looking straight ahead. They were more than halfway across when Isaac noticed a light thwacking against the side of his boot and realized his shoelace had come undone. He decided to ignore it; he would just have to walk more carefully.

  As they neared the alleyway which held the door to their destination, Isaac heard someone call out from behind them. “Hey, you! Be careful – your shoe is untied!”

  Isaac swore under his breath. He couldn’t ignore the entreaty without arousing suspicion. He glanced quickly at his partner, who nodded. “Thanks!” Isaac casually called out behind him.

  He bent over to lace the offending shoe, his heavy pack slumping forward against his neck. Before Isaac could react, a single shiny red apple rolled loose from the side pocket of his knapsack and hit the ground with a thud. Then all hell broke loose.

  Six guards emerged from their concealed posts and came rushing at Isaac and his companion from all directions. Isaac panicked. His eyes searched for somewhere to run, but they were blocked from every side, except forward. They couldn’t go that way without giving up their meeting place.

  Isaac’s companion grabbed his wrist and gave him a meaningful look, and Isaac remembered what he was supposed to do. As three pairs of hands grasped his shoulders and roughly forced him to the ground, Isaac let a glazed look slide over his face and he feigned a dull confusion.

  His partner, meanwhile, was flailing wildly, bellowing and fighting off the three guards who had descended on him. Food flung from his pockets in every direction. “Leave him alone! He doesn’t know anything! I put the backpack on him! Let him go!” He landed one good punch that sent a guard reeling, but Isaac could see in his eyes that he was resigned to his fate. The fight was all for show – his partner knew he was done for.

  Inside, Isaac was screaming. He cursed himself – how could a simple shoelace bring them to this? And why wasn’t that pocket on the backpack secured? It was all his fault – again – and now his companion was paying the price for Isaac’s stupidity. An overwhelming guilt impelled him to act, but his partner had made it clear what duty Isaac had to fulfill now.

  He needed to stay quiet, he needed to remain calm, and he needed to do whatever it took to convince the guards that he was innocent. Isaac fought back tears as one by one the guards released him and joined the others in mercilessly beating his partner.

  With one sickening final crack, the guards stood up and began to drag his companion away. He felt the bag of food being torn from his back and heard it thump against one of the guard’s shoulders a few yards ahead. Isaac knew that nothing he could do would be of any use. Even if his partner managed to survive the ordeal, he’d likely be tossed in prison, lost to Isaac forever.

  Isaac had never felt so alone.

  Isaac woke slowly, his neck stiff and crooked to one side. He stretched slowly, pushing through the pain as he cracked his neck to the other side. He surveyed his surroundings as he shook off the viscous sense of dejection that still clung to his mood.

  He was slouched in his favorite red chair in his study; he must have nodded off. Isaac tried to remember what he had been dreaming about. Something about getting caught, feeling guilty and hopeless and alone. He breathed slowly and waited for the flood of depression that had washed over him in his sleep to slowly dissipate as reality set in. It was only a dream.

  Isaac stood up, still feeling slightly shaken from his nightmare. It had been so vivid, but already he’d lost most of the details, and the more he tried to remember the dream, the faster it slipped away.

  Isaac was relieved to be awake and back in his own home. Intending to refresh himself with a glass of water from the kitchen, he turned towards the door but halted in place. The phantom woman had materialized not more than a couple arms’ lengths away.

  Any lingering thoughts of his strange dream were quickly eclipsed by her appearance. She was facing away from him, her long thick hair spilling down her back. She spun around quickly to face him and locked her startling green eyes on his face. Isaac’s chest was hammering.

  She spoke, but all Isaac could hear was silence. He tried to make out what she was saying, but he was no lip-reader. She looked frantic, like she was shouting something over and over again, but she might have been locked in a soundproof box for all the good it did Isaac. He pointed to his ear, trying to signal that he couldn’t hear what she was saying.

  She seemed to understand. Instead of talking, she began making gestures with her hands, striking one hand across the back of the other and waving her fingers in the air, then mocking holding something in her fists. Isaac had no clue what she might be trying to show him.

  She threw her hands to the sides of her head in frustration as Isaac looked on. Whatever she had to say was obviously very important to her, and he was anxious to learn what it was. He just didn’t know what to do.

  Finally, she dropped her arms with an expression of realization on her face and dashed to the side. Isaac thought perhaps she had figured out how to convey her message and he watched her eagerly. But as she stopped in place and started to lean over, her form vanished.

  Isaac sunk back down into the armchair, reviewing the encounter in his head. What was she trying to say? She had looked so desperate, shouting and gesticulating wildly. He couldn’t make sense of any of it. He’d had no luck making out any of the words she’d been saying to him and whatever she’d tried to mime had been completely lost in translation as well.

  Isaac gritted his teeth. He was glad to have finally caught her attention, to know that she was as aware of him as he was of her, but their inability to communicate was a major hurdle. She looked like she’d been on the verge of a breakthrough, but she’d faded before he could see what she was doing. Now all he was left with was a slightly sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  Something was wrong. Isaac wondered what could have made her so frantic. Was she trying to tell him who she was and how she had found him? Did she need his help? What was this message that she was so determined to share?

  Isaac worried that he had missed something important. He just couldn’t dismiss the sense of urgency that her actions had conveyed. It didn’t seem at all like she was just trying to connect, to say “hello.” It seemed like a plea. Or a warning.

  Isaac felt anxious. His heart was still fluttering in his chest and he could feel the adrenaline surging through his limbs. He felt alert and wary, primed to defend against an attack.

  Yes, her expression had been unmistakable. Someone was in danger. Maybe it was her, or maybe it was Isaac himself. But he didn’t know who or what threatened them and he was powerless to find out. Without a clear understanding of the woman’s message, Isaac was held hostage by his own ignorance.

  19. TRAGEDY

  Days after his last encounter with the woman, Isaac was still on edge. His life had been pervaded with a deep sense of foreboding and he found himself feeling jumpy, even the slightest noise causing his body to tense in anticipation. He couldn’t seem to shake the feeling, and it was making him irritable.

  Isaac was sitting in the parlor attempting to focus his attention on the record playing on the phonograph. He couldn’t seem to pick up more than a few notes at a time. He closed his eyes to drown out the distraction of the room, but then all he could see was the woman feverishly gesturing at him. The music couldn’t compete with the silent cacophony in his head.

  He felt so inadequate. Why couldn’t he understand her message? It’d been all Isaac had thought about for days, but he still couldn’t make any sense of her signals. What had she been trying to say?

&nb
sp; Josephine came sauntering in from the foyer and woke Isaac from his dark meditations. In each hand she carried a long unlit candlestick unceremoniously wedged into a silver candlestick holder, the carved wooden pony he’d given her yesterday peeking out from her pocket. She smiled at Isaac as she crossed the room towards the blazing fireplace, but remained respectfully quiet to avoid interrupting the song.

  Isaac suspected that Josephine had noticed the change in his demeanor, as she’d mostly avoided him the past few days. Isaac felt bad – he knew his sister was as bored as he was with nothing to do but wander around the big empty house – but at the same time, he was glad to have her out of his hair. If the ominous feelings he’d been having were to come to fruition, he’d sooner have Jo out of the way.

  Josephine knelt on the hearth and held the two candlesticks over the flame. The wicks caught one after another, and a drop of wax sizzled as it dribbled into the fire. Jo backed away from the fireplace and placed the candlesticks side by side on the low table in front of Isaac, plopping onto the sofa next to him.

  Josephine wet the tips of her thumb and forefinger in her mouth then closed her fingers over the wick of the first candle with a quick motion, extinguishing the flame with a hiss. She’d learned the trick from one of the servants and now she practiced it whenever she was bored. She used the second candle to relight the first, then extinguished it once again. Isaac watched as she repeated the cycle six times, still struggling to listen to what the phonograph was playing.

  On her seventh attempt, Josephine clumsily knocked the side of the candle and spilled a few drips of hot wax onto the table. Isaac’s patience had been low to begin with, and he was not in the mood to clean up Jo’s mess. He gave her a reprimanding look and waited for the dribbled wax to dry so that he could scratch it from the hardwood surface.