After greeting us, Lady Williams says, “Congratulations are in order. You are the chosen.”
We look around at each other, confused. Well, most of us. There’s a satisfied sneer on Lidia’s face, like she already knows what’s going on.
“I’m sure you are wondering why several members of your group are missing,” Lady Williams says. “That’s because the twelve of you have excelled at your studies and have shown us that you will make the best personal historians. The other twelve have not left the institute. In fact, they will play a very pivotal role in your coming career. They will become your Chaser companions, and each of your devices will be permanently linked to one of theirs.”
I have no idea what a Chaser companion is. I was under the impression that, with the exception of the first nine months when we’d be working with supervisors, we would each be traveling alone. Having someone accompany us would double the chances of something going wrong.
“Starting tomorrow,” Lady Williams goes on, “and every day from now until your training ends, you’ll be traveling with your trainer, putting to practical use the lessons they have taught you by rewinding family histories that are already known to us. This will allow us to better judge and focus your efforts when need be.”
She continues, rehashing some of the things Marie has already taught me, and then wraps up with the warning that if our performance fails to meet expectations, we can still be removed from the program. “But I’m certain you will all do just fine. You are on the cusp of a great adventure, and for that I envy you. You’ll be seeing what no others can. You’ll be witnessing history. It’s an honor so very few will ever have. Never forget that.”
With that, she turns and walks out the door, followed by Sir Wilfred.
We sit silently for a moment before Sir Gregory moves up to the lectern. “As I call your name, please join your instructor. Hayden Adams.”
Hayden, sitting in the row in front of me, gets up and heads down the stairs to the front of the room. When he reaches his trainer, they exit through the same door Lady Williams and Sir Wilfred used.
One by one, the process repeats until I’m the only one left.
“Denny Younger,” Sir Gregory says. As I walk by him to where Marie waits, he smiles and pats me on the shoulder. “I’m very impressed with your work, Denny. I knew you would do well.”
“T-t-thank you, sir.” I’m caught off guard by the compliment.
As soon as Marie guides me out of the room, I ask, “What are we doing?”
“You’ll see” is all she tells me.
We turn down several halls and descend a flight of stairs to a level I have never visited before. We soon come to a set of double doors that cuts off the hallway.
As Marie opens one side, I can see that the room beyond is small and unlit. “Step in but don’t go any farther,” she says.
I do as told. When she joins me and shuts the door, we’re plunged into complete darkness.
Marie moves past me and I hear a handle turn. Dim light streams in from another room.
“This way,” she says.
Worried that I might trip on something, I carefully follow her shadowy form through the doorway and into what turns out to be a large, rectangular room. Doors line all the walls but the one at our end. Their close proximity to each other reminds me of our trainee instruction room, only these doors are constructed mostly of glass.
Down the center of the room are two long, parallel counters divided into dozens of data stations, all but a few occupied by individuals wearing headphones and staring at their screens. I also spot a couple of fellow trainees and their instructors standing behind the data operators.
“This is the companion center,” Marie says. “One of four at the institute.”
My brow furrows.
“Come.”
She leads me behind one of the manned data stations. I can now see that the user has two monitors in front of him. One is displaying moving digital graphs, while the other is showing an alternate spectrum shot of someone lying on a bed.
Marie whispers, “This man’s job is to monitor one of the companions.”
“What—” The word comes out louder than I intended, and a few people sitting nearby glare at me. “Sorry,” I whisper, then look back at Marie. “What exactly are companions?”
She motions for me to follow her again, and we head over to one of the glass doors. Though it’s dark on the other side, there’s enough light bleeding in that I can make out a narrow, occupied bed.
Marie moves to the next door. After checking through the window, she opens it and ushers me inside. The room is exactly like the one before, only the bed is empty.
“Was that a companion?” I ask, more confused than ever.
“Yes.”
“What was he doing? Sleeping?”
“Basically.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what his job requires.” She sits on the bed and urges me to do the same. Once I’m beside her, she says, “We’ve talked about the pain of time travel.”
I nod. She’s told me the longer the trip through time, the more pain a Rewinder will experience.
“The effect is considerably worse without a companion. When it’s paired with another Chaser, the device deflects onto the companion a considerable amount of the pain its Rewinder would otherwise experience.” She sees I’m having a hard time following her and says, “Let’s say you travel back five years, like we did the other day. You experience, at most, a minor headache. Your companion, resting here in one of these rooms, will have a headache, too, only a much stronger one.”
“But I didn’t have a companion when we went back.” I pause. “Did I?”
“You were slaved to my device, so my companion served both of us. Since we weren’t going back too far, it wasn’t difficult for her. All right, so now let’s say you go two hundred years into the past, taking it in a single jump. Your head would pound and you’d likely be sick to your stomach, and it’d be an hour or so before you feel normal again. Your companion, however, would be consumed by a migraine and muscle spasms that could last all day, if not longer. If you didn’t have him, all that pain would be on you, and you’d arrive unable to function at all, meaning the chances of you being discovered skyrocket.”
“So we don’t make trips without companions,” I say.
“Technically, it’s possible, but I wouldn’t try it if I were you. Especially since your companion serves the second and perhaps even more important role of being your beacon home. The farther you have to travel to get back here, the less accurate you become. Not in time. You’ll always get the time right. What I mean is physical location. A jump of a few hours or even a couple of days, and you can land precisely where you want without any help. Even a week or two will get you within a few feet of your desired location. But when you stretch that to years—again, like two hundred—no matter what location you’ve entered into your device, you could end up hundreds of miles away without your companion. Which, on a bad day, might put you in the middle of the ocean. The Chaser is able to use the companion’s gene signature—which is what the devices use to bind together—to deliver you directly into the arrival hall here at Upjohn Hall.”
I feel as if I’ve fallen through a magic hole into a dreamland where nothing is real. And yet I’ve traveled through time myself, so is this really that much more to accept?
Someone taps on the door and then opens it. It’s one of the data monitors.
“We have a departure in a couple minutes,” he says.
“Ah, good. Thank you,” Marie tells him. She turns back to me. “This is what we came to see.”
__________
I PEEK OVER the shoulder of the attendant, careful not to get in the way of Lidia or the other two trainees who have joined us. On the video screen is an alternate spectrum shot of a female companion lying on her bed. The colors of the image range from white-blue to dark blue to black. After a few seconds go by, another person enters
the room and connects some wires to the reclining woman’s head and upper chest, then straps her arms and legs into padded restraints.
“Those are for monitoring her vital signs,” the data attendant says, then points at the other monitor. The graph on it was flat when we arrived but now has sprung to life.
I look at it for a moment but can’t even pretend to understand what the lines mean, so I focus back on the other monitor.
“And the restraints?” David, one of the other trainees, asks.
“Just watch,” his instructor tells him.
A small square opens on the lower left portion of the main monitor, displaying another camera feed, this one originating from what I recognize as the departure hall. It’s focused on a man probably twice my age standing on one of the platforms.
After the man gives a hand signal, the data attendant leans forward and says into a microphone, “Stand by.”
The person in the companion’s room checks the restraints. When he waves at the camera, the data operator touches a button and says into his mic, “Taylor, clear.”
On the departure-hall feed, the Rewinder nods and lifts a Chaser.
The very instant he disappears, the companion arches on her bed as if shot through by a jolt of electricity. She then drops back down and writhes on the mattress, her hands clenching and unclenching as her arms jerk against the restraints. This only lasts a few seconds before she arches again.
The process plays out four times before she lands back on the bed and stays there. With skill and speed, the room attendant plunges a syringe into her arm. After a moment, her tremors begin to subside and she falls back, either asleep or unconscious.
Marie steps forward. “Can you play back the event please?”
The data attendant does so, and it’s no less disturbing the second time around.
“There are two stages to each jump,” Marie tells us. “Pre-arrival and post-arrival.”
The attendant runs the video once more, this time pausing on a frame in which the companion is arching her back.
“Pre-arrival,” Marie says. “The GO button has been pushed and the Rewinder is in transit. We call this the journey arc.”
She nods at the attendant and the video moves forward, pausing again when the woman is twisting on the bed.
“Post-arrival. The shot she was given helps mitigate the pain and allows her to rest.”
“Why wasn’t it given to her before the jump?” I ask.
“Because that would reduce her ability to deflect the pain,” the attendant says.
“Idiot,” Lidia whispers in my ear.
“You saw four journey arches,” Marie says. “This is because the Rewinder is going quite a distance back, and has used the automated controls to make the journey in smaller hops. This helps alleviate much of the pain he would feel upon arriving at this destination if he did it all in one jump.”
“How far did he go back?” I ask the attendant.
“One hundred and fifty-three years.”
Incredible—1861.
“So a short trip wouldn’t be so bad on a companion, right?” Kimberly, one of the other trainees, asks.
“The post-arrival phase would be less painful,” Marie says. “But for the journey arc, the pain is consistent no matter the span of time traveled.”
“Even just five years?” I ask, thinking about our trip to Chicago.
“Even just five years.”
Marie and I witness two more departures before we leave the companion-monitoring center.
Once we’re alone, I ask, “Do the companions have to stay in those rooms all the time?”
She shakes her head. “If their Rewinder isn’t traveling, their time is their own.”
I’m relieved to hear this.
“Who will my companion be?” I ask.
“One will be assigned at the end of training. You’ll find out then.”
I was kind of hoping she’d say I would never find out. I’m not looking forward to knowing who it is I’ll be putting through agony every time I jump.
CHAPTER NINE
FROM THE BEGINNING we were told training would last three months. What wasn’t made clear to us was that this only meant three months in 2014. The reality is that the final three weeks of practical experience last as long as one’s instructor feels is necessary. When you go back in time, you can stay there as long as you want and still return minutes after you left. So, for those who are still plodding away in my home time, three and a half weeks for them could be four months for me.
I’m not complaining. The time I spend with Marie traveling into the past is nothing short of amazing. Our first “case” is to trace the family lineage of an institute patron named Sir Lionel Mason. We move slowly, rewinding first Sir Mason’s own life, witnessing snippets of his successes and failures, making sure to note everything. We then move on to his parents, and then his parents’ parents, and so on, each step back expanding the number of people we must track. We’re on the job for nearly three weeks of real time—living and breathing time—before Marie is satisfied with my work and allows us to return to the very day we left.
I will grow old very quickly this way, and I say as much to Marie.
“It’ll be different after your training is done,” she tells me. “Once you’re officially a personal historian, when you push the HOME button, your real time in the past will equal the amount of time you’ve been gone. No unnecessary aging.” She thinks for a moment. “I should say that’s how it usually works. You may, on occasion, be asked to make an expedited trip and you’ll return right after you leave.”
“Is there a reason why that happens?”
She shrugs. “Whatever the reason, you’re not likely to be told.”
“A rush for a client?”
She hesitates. “That could be it.” Like on a few previous occasions, she seems to be holding something back. Whatever that might be, she continues to keep it to herself.
By the time my training nears its end, I have visited nearly every year going back to 1900, and dozens of years earlier than that. On most trips going more than eighty years back, we use the automated function and do them in hops to reduce the side effects. Marie makes me take one long trip all the way back to 1645 so I’d understand why the hops are necessary. The pain is so intense I pass out moments after we arrive. When I come to, I make it clear to her it’s a lesson that does not need repeating.
When I arrive for my very last day of training, I ask Marie, “So, who are we tracing today?
“No one.”
“No one? We’re not going anywhere?”
“Did I say that? Pull out your Chaser, please.”
As soon as I do, she pushes the GO button on her device and we wink out of 2014. In the now familiar gray mist of the journey, I can sense Marie’s companion. This is something that’s been building from trip to trip. It’s like that feeling that someone’s watching you but you’re never quite able to figure out who. Marie tells me the link will be even stronger with my own companion after I’ve worked with that person for a while. There are pairs of Rewinders and companions who are so compatible that they’re able to communicate through the link. I’m not sure if I want that or not.
Our journey is apparently a long one, as we end up making five different stops before we settle on the bank of a river. Having unexpectedly—at least in my mind—arrived during daylight, my training immediately kicks in and I drop to the ground, my head moving back and forth as I scan the area to make sure we haven’t been spotted. But we’re completely alone.
“Good response, though you could have probably dropped a second sooner,” Marie says.
A half second at most, I think, but I’m not going to argue. I rub away my headache as I look out at the wide river. “Where are we?”
“Spain. The Guadalquivir River.”
That would explain the sweat on my brow. “What are we doing here?”
“Is that the right question?”
Of course it i
sn’t. “When are we?”
“The tenth of August, 1519.”
The date is a familiar one. But with all the practical training we’ve been doing, I’m a bit rusty with my studying.
“There,” she says, pointing upriver.
The bow of a ship is just coming into view, and that’s when I remember. It was even a question on the very test that brought me to the institute’s attention.
There are five ships total. I don’t remember the names of all of them. One, I believe, is the Victoria, another the Santiago. There is one whose name I do know for sure. The Trinidad, flagship of Ferdinand Magellan’s fleet. This is the day he sails to the coast where his journey around the world will begin, a trip Magellan will not finish. But both he and I are here at the start, separated only by the flowing river.
When the ships finally sail out of sight, all I can say is, “They’re smaller than I pictured in my mind.”
I look over at Marie to see if she’s heard me, but she seems lost in thought.
When I open my mouth to ask if she’s all right, she says quietly, “And look what we’ve become.”
“I’m sorry?”
She glances over as if she momentarily forgot I’m here. “Don’t get used to this,” she says, ignoring my question. “Historical moments will seldom be on your agenda. Consider this a present from me, for doing a good job.” She looks back at the now empty river. “Remain true and keep your eyes open, and you’ll be one hell of a Rewinder.”
She short-hops us back to 2014.
Before dismissing me for the last time, she takes my Chaser and disables the slave mode. It may not be official yet, but I feel like I’m already a Rewinder.
__________
GRADUATION IS A formal affair in the gardens behind Upjohn Hall. There must be two hundred people in attendance. The first group to be honored consists of the twelve people who started out as Rewinder trainees but have been reassigned as companions. None of them appear particularly happy, and a few even shoot scornful looks in our direction. And why not? I wouldn’t be happy, either.
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