Timewise

by P. K. Gardner

  "What I don't get," Ty says, passing the photograph back to Zane, "is how a girl thirty years out of her time manages to slip into a major university with no sign of family and funding."

  Zane looks at him and smiles. "Catch on fast, Ty. Timewise tacked her down under the alias Erin Miller."

  Ty nods as they move toward the student services building. The quickest way to find someone is to follow the paper trail. It always has been. It always will be. "Who's Erin Miller?"

  "A genius," Zane replies. "Girl from Gallagher's town. A full ride offered from two different schools. Miss Erin Miller attends both on scholarship."

  "A con?" Tyler asks.

  "Sure," Zane replies. "If you look at it that way. Figure a girl smart as Gallagher deserves the ride."

  The student services building is pretty standard for a college. It's an old-fashioned redbrick building with big glass windows and a friendly atmosphere.

  In fact, from all the different time periods Ty has experienced, colleges seem to be the longest-lasting legacies. Callope University reminds him of schools back in his old time: dormitories, classrooms and thousands of students roaming the grounds. It doesn't really seem to matter if it's 2007 or 2172. Callope has lasted more than two hundred years and may well last two hundred more.

  There's a clerk at the desk eyeing them. Zane approaches her with a broad smile. "Ah, pleasure to meet you. Think you could do us a helping?" He doesn't wait for a reply before pressing on. "See me and my brother here, we're hoping to visit our cousin on campus but we neglected to write down the room number. Hoping we could get us a tip."

  Ty smiles at the clerk. He's used to this role. Zane and Ty have similar builds, similar coloring and similar smiles. It distracts from the differences in their features. They get taken for brothers almost every time they slip, a good thing. People are automatically more inclined to trust brothers than a pair of mysterious men looking for a girl.

  "Acorse," the clerk says, gracing Ty with a smile of her own. "What's her name?"

  "Erin," Zane said, "She's called Erin Miller. She's a year one."

  The clerk types something into the computer, tapping her long, manicured fingers on the table. "Is this your girl?" She swivels the monitor toward them, and Gallagher's unmistakable face stares back. She's glowering in the picture. Somehow it doesn't surprise Ty in the least.

  "That's our girl," Zane whispers. His lopsided smile looks genuine to everyone but Ty, who knows better. "Good old Erin. Where's her place?"

  "She's in Lipton," the clerk replies, "opposite side of the quad. You'll have to wait outside if you're looking to surprise her. Skorry, but I can't give you the room number. Can't be letting unauthorized personnel in the residence halls, family or no."

  "Thank you, ma'am," Zane says with his charming, disarming smile. "You're a big hand."

  He taps a finger on the table and turns back to Ty. The smile drops almost as quickly as it had come. "Let's go."

  "That was easy," Ty remarks

  Zane lets out a harsh laugh. "Love me this decade."

  "The crash isn't for another fifty years," Ty agrees, pushing through the student center's glass doors and into spring air fragrant with blossoms. "People still trusting people."

  In fifty years, everyone will be paranoid. The worst government scandal in more than two hundred years will cause the biggest economic collapse in American history. People will start losing faith in the world, faith in humanity.

  Ty doesn't like the 2220s. The 2170s, on the other hand, are different. Idealism soars high, people trust people. And that means Ty Smith and Zane Tucker have a much easier job.

  It's Zane who spots Gallagher. He tugs wordlessly on the edge of Ty's jacket, pointing. Gallagher is wearing an old pair of jeans, a raggedy, oversized T-shirt and a dark blue baseball cap. Her dark blonde hair is tied up in a ponytail. Nothing in her appearance suggests she's out of her time.

  Ty realizes what she's doing: playing the part of the loner, minimizing her good looks so she doesn't stand out.

  (she is going to be so very good at this life)

  "Anne!" Zane calls. "Anne Gallagher!"

  Her shoulders stiffen, but to her credit she doesn't quicken her pace, doesn't even turn around.

  "Erin Miller?" Ty tries.

  Her alias in such close succession to her given name gets a rise. She glances over her shoulder, picking Zane and Ty as outsiders from the crowd. She holds Zane's gaze for a fraction of a second and then breaks through the crowd at a full sprint.

  Zane curses, setting off after her. Ty gives chase just a split second behind. Anne is surprisingly adept at evasion, weaving through the crowd with an inveterate ease. They're losing her in the mob when she darts into a building.

  Ty plows on ahead, following her inside. Zane pours on the speed, darting to the opposite side of the building just in time to cut Anne off before she escapes out the back door.

  "Anne Gallagher," Zane says. He is standing in the doorway, blocking it but keeping his body language unthreatening.

  Anne, to her credit, doesn't back down even though she must know she is beaten. "Give me one reason," she says, barely even out of breath, "that I shouldn't start screaming right now."

  "We're here to help you," Ty replies. "Look, we need half a chance to explain."

  "Two guys upturn at a campus, looking to tack down a girl," Anne says. "Help? Should be calling the police. Need me one reason why I shouldn't."

  "Because we know you've slipped through time," Zane says, and the look on Anne's face tells Ty they've got her.

  "Saying we find him, what are they going to do to him?" Annie asks Ty, kicking a disregarded soda can across the pavement of 2033. She's wearing her usual — a baggy white T-shirt, dark blue jeans and a black baseball cap that shades her face.

  They're in the suburbs walking hand in hand because they can't quite pass for siblings like Zane and Ty used to, and they need the cover. There are other couples on the street, young and old alike. The sun hangs high in the sky and the air mixes the crispness of fall with the lingering heat from summer. It's rained recently. Ty can smell the musty scent of leaf mold underneath the crisp air. Zane Tucker was here. Or is here. Or will be here soon. Ty doesn't know which.

  Annie's still talking. Her voice is so low, Ty has to dip his head to hear it. An older couple with graying hair smiles at them. "I mean the guy can just slip off again the tick we turn backside."

  "Got to catch him first," Ty mutters into her hair.

  And that is the thing, isn't it? Zane Tucker is out there mucking with time and space. If Ty and Annie don't stop him, who knows what will happen.

  (Ty knows nothing will be the same but he's a little unclear on why that's such a bad thing)

  "Figured me that much," Annie snaps. "I just don't know how it all works. It's hard to tack someone down if they don't even tack down in time."

  "They told you why some people can slip through time, right?"

  "Sure," Annie says. "Genetic mutation."

  Ty can feel the heat of her body every time they brush shoulders, but he is shivering uncontrollably. "They'll take it out. The mutation, I mean. It's a procedure. Actually, more like the Procedure. Fixes the gene. Zane Tucker goes back to being Joe Normal."

  "Just like that?" Annie says. "Back to where he comes from? Deserves worse."

  Deserves better, Ty thinks. He's still having a hard time picturing Zane as a villain. After how many times the guy saved his ass when they were partners, Ty still thinks he's a hero.

  "Not just the Procedure," he continues. "They'll keep him locked up more than a few ticks. And then they'll put him in the present, not pastside. Can't head where he came from because of future knowledge and you know, because he's been scrubbed..."

  Annie nods, turning away from him to survey the scene with her sharp critical eyes. Ty wants to add the rest of it, that Zane Tucker is his friend and the Procedure is only successful on forty percent of the patients. The other sixty percent stumble
through life barely aware of their surroundings, missing a huge piece of themselves. He wants to tell her about all the fatalities. Sometimes he isn't sure he will turn in Zane when he finds him. More than anything, Ty just wants answers.

  The sky is blue. The billowy, white clouds are piled high. Ty can hear birds singing and Zane Tucker is nowhere in sight.

  (he can't find anything wrong with the scene except for Annie on his arm)

  Tugging him down to her level in what must look like an intimate gesture, Annie hisses in his ear, "I don't think Tucker's here."

  "No," Ty says, glancing around the serene street with hidden satisfaction. "No, I don't believe he is."

  The first time he sets foot in Timewise, Tyler Smith's only thought is how cold it is. A woman named Val Teasley escorts him through the foreign halls of the Timewise Agency. She's the closet thing Timewise has to a PR person. She has a warm smile, a soft voice and a comforting demeanor. She is probably fifteen years older than Tyler with smooth ebony skin, high cheekbones, and almost black eyes. She talks as they walk through the agency and into the academy. Tyler hardly hears a word.

  The entire place seems vaguely surreal. The operatives jabber away about temporal theory, paradoxes and tikkers. They pass a white room in time to see a man appear from thin air. Everything is fantastic and wonderful but all Tyler can think is that he's never been this cold in his life.

  Val turns to look at him. "Holding fast, Ty?"

  Tyler is starting to regret he'd ever agreed to come, ever agreed to leave his family in favor of time travel and the unknown. "What are they going to do when I'm gone?" he croaks. "My family. They'll be looking for me."

  Val shakes her head and puts an arm around his shoulders. "Spense talked at you about scrubbing, right?" she said. "Tyler, there's nothing to worry on. They won't even know you're gone. You're being erased. Scrubbed clean from your original place in time. It's precautionary. You can't go back home because you can't afford to change any of it. Got enough problems with tikkers without adding mucked-up agents to the fray."

  Tyler shivers and thinks of Ivy. Thinks of his mom, Erica and school and... he's missed everything. He's missed graduation, college and getting a job. He's missed Erica's wedding, mom's funeral...

  "Are you cold?" Val asks.

  Tyler nods. "Freezing."

  "It's like that at the start," Val says. "Happens around temporal disturbances and paradoxes. Anytime you slip, it'll be happening. You'll normalize to it. Promise."

  (Tyler doesn't want to get used to it)

  She stops walking when they reach a solid gray door, and he does too. The numbers emblazoned on the front read 982.

  "Here are we," Val says. "Home for now. You'll be living in the blocs for as long as you're here. You'll be sharing until you enter fieldwork. Let's see, you're with Jones Longwood. 2228. You'll be in the same boat, at least. Both fresh students."

  Tyler looks at her.

  "Go ahead then," she urges, pushing him toward the door. "Room's set to your handprint. No need for keys. You'll be fine. My heart crosswise."

  Tyler places his hand on the doorknob. He feels a click as the lock slides back. With one last glance at Val, he steps inside and let the door swing shut behind him.

  The room is sterile. There are two identical twin beds pressed up against opposite walls, two night stands, two desks and two lamps. The bed on the right is occupied by a guy about Tyler's age. When the guy sees he has company, he stands up.

  His legs and arms unfurl slowly. Tyler finds himself looking skyward to meet his gaze. Jones Longwood is tall, dark skinned and stick thin. Tyler almost seems to shrink in comparison. Longwood sizes him up.

  "Jones Longwood?" Tyler says.

  "The hell's asking?"

  "Tyler," he stammers. "Tyler Smith."

  "Did they snatch you too?" Longwood asks. "Or are you one of them?"

  They're only two days into classes at the Timewise Academy when someone first asks about time travel's infamous grandfather clause. The professor gets a haggard look on his face like he's heard this question too many times.

  "What happens saying you kill your own grandfather?" a skinny dark haired girl from 2021 asks from the first row.

  The professor sighs, takes off his glasses and polishes them on his shirt. Ty sits up a little straighter in his seat. Jones Longwood yawns and pulls his head up from his folded arms.

  "Why are you looking to kill your own grandfather?" the professor asks.

  "Maybe the op's feeling suicidal," says the girl with a scowl. "Professor, it's a hypothetical."

  "I understand," the professor replies. "There's no need to get testy. The grandfather clause is one of the classic conundrums of time travel. Say you go back in time and kill your own grandfather. You won't exist. But how could you go back in time to kill your own grandfather?" He circles around his desk to sit on the edge. "Contrary to popular belief, no one at Timewise has ever succeeded in killing his own grandfather. Only one operative has ever attempted as such. But I have personally met that fellow's grandfather and allow me to assure you the man probably would have deserved his untimely death."

  Almost all awake now, the class members let out a collective snort of laughter. The professor beams at them. He is a tall, bulky man with the stature of an offensive lineman. His hair is completely gray but he still has all of it. He is wearing jeans that have seen better days and a black sweater with a blue stripe down its middle that does nothing to slim his physique. He has round cheeks, a ruddy complexion and glasses perched on the edge of a hooked nose. His eyes are bluer than any Tyler had ever seen in his home time. From his clothes and dialect, Tyler judges him to be from the 1980s.

  "Though we've had no one kill their own grandfather, we have had incidents involving relatives or parents who've died. The result is an inherent paradox. The universe cleanses itself by removing the problem. The grandfather dies because he gets killed. The grandson dies because he was never born. Things stay that way because time can't do a thing to fix it. So the time heals funny, scabs over and makes a scar. Moreover, you'll wind up with tikkers infesting the place. Just—" He coughs and places his glasses delicately back on the bridge of his nose. "—do us all a favor and don't kill your grandfather. The paperwork alone is hell."

  The girl in the front of the class pauses for a whole minute to digest this before her hand is in the air again, waving back and forth, bidding for attention despite the fact that there is no competition.

  "Yes, Miss Lemond?"

  "What happens if you step on a butterfly?" she asks.

  The professor rolls his eyes and only barely suppresses a groan of irritation. "Miss Lemond, nothing happens should you step on a butterfly. One butterfly in the scheme of the universe isn't essential. It's not going to change. . ."

  "But I read—"

  "Oh, for Christ's sake, another Bradbury fan. Trust me. You're not going to go changing the world should you step on a butterfly in 1985. You knowing how many butterflies exist in the world? Well over enough. And if you're that worried about it, you can save yourself some trouble and don't step on any butterflies." He coughs. "Timewise law states you cannot interfere with the natural course of events. But really, what's a butterfly in the scheme of four hundred years?"

  The second time Tyler Smith meets Zane Tucker is six weeks before Timewise picks him up and two days before the first time he knowingly slips into the past. He won't make the connection between this meeting and the first for a long time. It's only his second day of eighth grade and he has no idea where half of his classes are. Ivy is sick, and both Sydney King and Bryce Benson have started trekking their way to the music department in search of their first orchestra class of the year. Tyler is left alone, late for his photography class with no real knowledge of how to get there.

  Once the late bell rings, there's really no use in hurrying. Twenty seconds late or ten minutes really doesn't make a difference (he believes that a lot longer than he should). It's only when walking down
the deserted hallway among the swirls of paper that he realizes he's not alone. The kid is moving briskly down the hallway, head swiveling from side to side with a crisp awareness that is completely foreign to most high school students.

  He is older than Tyler, sixteen or seventeen, if he has to guess, and has ten extra inches to show for it. One of the upperclassmen. A junior probably, or maybe one of the younger seniors. Lewis Baker Secondary School house grades seven through twelve. While it's rare to see high school kids wandering the hall during middle school passing time, it's not unheard of.

  As far as looks go, he is entirely forgettable (they have that much at least in common). He has close-cropped brown hair, brown eyes and tan skin — undoubtedly the product of summer spent at the pool. He is wearing jeans that are old and faded but not ripped. His shirt is solid black save the words The Cadavers scrawled across the chest. Tyler assumes it's the name of a band. The guy's got his hands shoved in his pockets, but he's not wearing a backpack. He's obviously looking for someone or something.

  "You new?" Tyler asks. When he gets an unfriendly stare, he regrets his impulse. "I mean, I know it's a big school, but I figured since I didn't recognize you and you looked kind of lost—"

  "You talk too much," the guy says, but at least he's smiling now. "I'm no student. Performing a routine maintenance check."

  "Check for what?" Ty asks.

  The guy heaves a sigh and glances up and down the hall. No one is watching. He pulls a black leather wallet out of his pocket and flashes a badge. Tyler has just enough time to read the name Kevin Jones. "Look, I know people look at me and think I'm a kid, but I'm here on official business and this thing's well over a civilian clearance. It's jus' a routine check."

  "Routine check for what?" Tyler repeats, unwilling to let it go.

  In the distance, there is a loud crash followed by a shrill scream. Tyler feels something sweep over him. He can see his breath hanging in the air. A prickle of gooseflesh snakes its way up his arms. Jones swears. "Routine check for that."