Remember Yesterday

by Pintip Dunn

  I swallow hard, even though I know his tears are not for me. Have never been for me. He’s including me in his regrets to be polite, but I heard his slip-up. His concern is for his little girl. His Callie. The one who existed when he left home.

  “She didn’t blame you,” I whisper. “Did you know she used to tell me stories about you? Over and over again, so that she wouldn’t forget. So that I would know you, too.” I smile, but the tears I won’t shed coalesce in a lump in my throat. I knew him, but he didn’t have a clue that I was alive. “She loved you so much.”

  “I love her. And it helps to have both of you here, in the present, even if Callie’s not awake.” He sits and studies his hands, those long, beautiful fingers that figured so prominently in Callie’s stories. “But it kills me to leave your mother behind. The thought of never seeing her again is like a machete to my heart.”

  “Why can’t you see her?” I sit down, too. Not across from him but next to him. As though we can make up for our emotional distance with physical proximity. “She’s right here, a few miles away. Once the riot settles, we can both go over there.”

  He coughs. Must be choking on saliva, since he hasn’t drunk any coffee in the last few minutes. “I can’t do that,” he rasps. “She wouldn’t want me, and it would just be painful for both of us.”

  “Why wouldn’t she want you? She never remarried. She said she’d already married her soul mate. Any other relationship, by definition, would be less. I mean, I know it’s weird, ’cause she’s so much older than you…”

  “You think I care about that?” he says fiercely. “I fell in love with Phoebe. She will always be beautiful to me, no matter what her age is. She will always be the love of my life.”

  “Don’t you think she feels the same way?”

  He moves his shoulders, so lost, so lonely. A single traveler, bobbing helplessly in the sea of time. “To me, only a few months have passed. I’m just as in love with her as I’ve always been. But for her, twenty-three years have gone by. Twenty-three years where she thinks I abandoned her. Where she believes I prioritized another time, another place, over her.” He shakes his head slowly. “I just don’t know how she’ll feel.”

  “You’ll never know until you try.” Awkwardly, I place my hand on his arm. “Will you at least think about what I said?”

  He covers my hand with his. No longer uncertain. No longer hesitant. “Now that you’ve brought it up, I won’t be able to think about anything else.”

  36

  Thirty minutes after breakfast—congee with salty egg and black chicken from the Meal Assembler—Tanner vibrates the floor and waltzes in.

  I frown. Preston’s in the study with Callie, checking her vitals, so it’s up to me to play hostess. “It’s Saturday. This isn’t a TechRA lab. What are you doing here?”

  Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the most welcoming greeting ever. It’s the best I can do.

  He slowly takes off his jacket—uninvited—and slips out of his shoes—unasked. His hair is back to its silky state, falling over his eyes, and his muscular chest is hidden beneath a black thermal shirt. The fact that I was pressed against his chest not too long ago makes me frown even harder.

  “Preston filled me in last night. About everything.” Tanner’s tone is neutral. He could be talking about the weather or a new record for his wind sprints.

  I bristle anyway. “Haven’t you ruined enough lives? This isn’t your business.”

  “It is, actually. I’m Preston’s research assistant, and now that he’s linked to the subject, literally, he can no longer be an impartial observer. I’m here to double-check his findings and run some data streams, so that we can tweak the experiment if necessary.”

  I flush. “That’s my sister you’re talking about. Not an experiment.”

  “This experiment happens to be saving Callie’s life. Preston requested—and I agree—that we make it our top priority. I’m prepared to put my full attention on the matter. Unless you prefer I don’t?” He raises an eyebrow.

  He’s talking like a scientist again, and I hate him for it. At least I think that’s hate I’m feeling. Sticky, all-encompassing, black-tar anger. I have so many reasons to hurl plates at him, so many reasons to pound my fists against his chest—and hope like Limbo it hurts. But with all these reasons, why do I only feel like I want to cry?

  I shoot to my feet before he can sense any weakness. “Do what you have to do. Just don’t expect me to thank you for it.”

  “You wouldn’t thank me for saving your sister’s life?”

  “Not when you endangered it in the first place.” I leave the room without a backward glance. If Preston wants a host for his guest, he’ll have to come out and play one himself.

  I retreat to Preston’s sleeping area. It’s the only unoccupied room in the apartment. Maybe I shouldn’t be in here without his permission, but he is my father. If only in name. If only across time. I normally wouldn’t dream of invading his privacy, but today, my desire to get away from Tanner outweighs my civility.

  The room is simple, the furnishing basic. Holo-screens on the walls. A retractable bed with a temperature- and pressure-modulated mattress. A washer-closet that launders clothes when you hang them up and close the door. But no personal trinkets, no customized holos. Nothing that would reveal that this room belongs to Preston instead of someone else.

  It doesn’t surprise me. I don’t think travelers can transport physical objects. That’s why Mikey’s trying to figure out how to push prosthetic limbs through time.

  All of a sudden, other questions pop up, one after the other, multiplying like weeds. Why did he come here? Once he arrived, what did he do? Who did he talk to? How did he get clothes? Shelter? How was he assigned a position as a scientist, much less the lead on Callie’s case?

  I wander around the room, trailing my fingers over the furniture. Maybe someday I’ll get the chance to ask him. Maybe we’ll sit, away from this chaos, unconcerned with riots and saving lives, and I’ll teach him how to build a fire—a real one, not the kind you turn on with the flip of a switch. A fire like the ones we had in the wilderness. We’ll roast marshmallows on a stick—the closest I get to cooking manually—and he’ll tell me his life’s stories. Our relationship wouldn’t be strained or awkward, and it would be like we were actually father and daughter.

  He would love me the way he loves Callie.

  The thought knocks the breath out of me. Is that what this is about? Am I…jealous of my sister? Maybe I am. It wasn’t easy growing up in the shadow of her greatness. It would be nice to be loved just a fraction of the amount that she’s loved. That’s all.

  I turn to leave. I shouldn’t be here. Tanner’s had plenty of time to join Preston, so the eating area should be clear.

  As I walk to the door, a corner of the wall screen catches my eye. The digital square cycles through Preston’s favorite feeds—a calendar, an update of the weather, the latest news, and then a static screenshot.

  I peer closer—and my breath catches. I recognize that screenshot. It’s from a news article about a hoverthon I’d organized a year ago to raise credits for shelter dogs so they wouldn’t be donated to TechRA for research.

  Preston not only looked up the article, but he kept it as one of his favorites. Why? Was he researching me to figure out if he could trust me?

  Or maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he cares for me, just a bit.

  Little bubbles pop in my chest like I’m a can of carbonated soda. But the fizz doesn’t hurt, and I’m not uncomfortable. Instead, I’m smiling as I cross the threshold.

  Maybe there’s no reason to be jealous after all.

  37

  The first thing I hear when I walk into the hallway is: Beep. Beep. Beep.

  My heart stutters, and the smile crumbles from my face. I’ve heard this noise before, just over a week ago. Callie’s vitals have entered the red zone.

  Forget not intruding. Without a second thought, I run to the last room down the hal
l, where Preston and Tanner are working. Where Callie’s body lies.

  I throw open the door. “What happened? Is Callie okay?”

  Preston stands next to her stretcher, attaching a bag of clear liquid to her IV stand, while Tanner’s fingers fly over the keyball.

  “I was afraid of this,” Preston says, his hands trembling on the bag. “I hoped and prayed I was wrong, but I can’t keep pretending anymore. My psychic thread is similar enough to bond with Callie’s, but it’s not a match. I can’t feed her connection the way you could.” His voice becomes more garbled with each word, until it sounds like he has marbles in his mouth. “I can’t keep her alive.”

  I grip the railing on the stretcher. “What are you saying?”

  Tanner puts down the keyball and swipes a hand across his forehead. “Her heart’s beating too slowly. The meds will speed it up for now. But it can’t last. We need another solution.”

  The beep, beep, beep switches off, and my eyes fly to the holo-monitor. Sure enough, the medicine’s done its work. Her heart rate has returned to the normal range.

  For now. It can’t last.

  “Easy,” I say, my heart pounding fast. “Just transfer her bond back to me.” But even as I say the words, I know it can’t be that simple. Preston and Tanner wouldn’t look so serious otherwise.

  My father shakes his head, and my heart sinks.

  “I was able to connect with her only after your bond was severed,” he says. “It was touch and go for a few minutes. I thought I’d lost her. Nothing but extreme luck allowed her to reattach to me after she’d been floating untethered in time. She’s so much weaker now that if we tried the same maneuver again…well, I think her death would be all but certain.”

  Each sentence pushes down on my shoulders. “We don’t have another solution. That’s been our problem all along.”

  Tanner and Preston exchange a look. “That’s not quite true,” my dad says slowly. “Tanner’s had a brainstorm. Something nobody else had considered.”

  I want to roll my eyes. Great. Here comes Boy Genius to solve the problem nobody else can. But if he can save my sister, I promise I’ll never be annoyed at him again. No matter how superior he is.

  “It should work, in theory.” Tanner pushes the hair off his forehead. “But it’s never been tried. If it fails, the risks are great.”

  “The risks are even greater if we don’t try.” I push down the panic that’s climbing my windpipe. The breath rolls across Callie’s body in waves, and her skin is so translucent I can see the veins in her eyelids. “We could lose her.”

  “Agreed. Which is why we’re willing to consider the experiment now when we weren’t before.” Preston looks at his assistant. “Do you want to explain?”

  Tanner straightens his spine. “Like I told you before, we need to find a way to signal her brain. In our world, we think of time linearly. Yesterday is followed by today is followed by tomorrow. But Callie’s mind zooms around with no idea of past or present or future. We need a glowing beacon she can’t ignore. Something to say, ‘Hey, Callie, over here. This is the present, this is the now.’”

  He takes a deep breath. “If Callie can recognize the present, if only for a moment, her mind will have something to latch onto. It will synchronize her with our time, and she’ll wake up again.”

  “So how do we signal her?” I ask.

  “That’s the problem. She’s been in a coma these past ten years, so by definition, she doesn’t have any memories from this time—at least, that she’s aware of. But then, I got an idea when we were talking about Callie’s ability to modify memories. When we were, um, lying down in the clearing.” His eyes flicker to me for the tiniest moment, and my face burns. When we were wrapped around each other as though we would never let go, he might as well have said. “Callie has no memories of the present. So I thought, why don’t we manufacture one?”

  I will not look at him. I will not. “What do you mean?”

  “Yeah, I know. It sounds crazy. Hear me out. We time-travel to the past, as close as possible to the moment her mind left synchronous time, when her synapses are firing at lightning speed. We lay a foundation there. We take a childhood memory that’s lived in her mind for so long that it’s turned into fact. A nursery rhyme, maybe, or a jingle her mind will automatically complete. And then we change it, twisting it in such a way that her mind will register that something’s not right.”

  He peeks at me, as if to see if I’m still with him. “We come back to the present,” he continues. “We use the modified nursery rhyme, the one we planted in her head, as that glowing beacon. We jolt her mind, like it was jolted only one other time in her life. And then we pray to the Fates that it’s enough to stop her mind from zooming. To make it pause long enough for us to reel her back to the present.” He puffs out a breath of air. “What do you think?”

  I look from one scientist to the other. From the boy who could’ve meant something to me to the man who was, once upon a time, everything to my sister. Their expressions are identical. Serious. Hopeful. Waiting.

  “There’s one problem,” I say. “We don’t have a time machine.”

  “We do, actually,” Preston says. “The same one I used more than two decades ago. The one that’s been boarded up and abandoned. It’s still there, in a cabin in the woods. I’ve been working on it these last few months in preparation for what I thought would be my return. I ran the final test a week ago. It works just as well now as it did twenty-three years ago.”

  “Still, it seems complicated,” I say slowly. “Dangerous.”

  “Yep.” Tanner nods vigorously.

  “Very much so,” Preston agrees.

  “Countless things could go wrong when we play with time. Look at Preston. Whoever travels to the past could get stuck there—or worse.”

  The scientists nod. “You’re absolutely right,” Tanner says. “The risks are off the charts.”

  I take a deep breath. “Okay. When do I leave?”

  38

  “Wait a minute. Who says you’re going?” Preston steps forward, tripping over the IV stand. Nimbly, Tanner catches the bag before it yanks the tube out of Callie’s hand and hangs it back in place.

  “Of course I’m going.” My mind was made up the moment I understood the plan. “Who else would you send?”

  “Me,” Tanner says, sticking out his chest. “It was my idea. I should be the one to go.”

  The anger inside me flares to life. I should be grateful he’s willing to risk so much to save my sister. And I am. Sort of. But a bigger part of me—the part that’s still reeling from his betrayal—snaps.

  “You don’t know her. You don’t care what happens to her. You just want full and complete credit for this theory. You’ll probably write up the results for your core thesis.” I curl my hands into fists. “Well, you know what? This isn’t one of your lab experiments. Nobody’s interested in your ego. We’re not sending someone who’s completely indifferent to Callie’s welfare.”

  He raises his eyebrow. “If this is just about impressing the admission officials—which it isn’t—then you should want me to go. Nobody wants to get into uni more than I do. Besides, I understand the physics of time travel. I’m the one most likely to be successful.”

  “Doesn’t take much scientific expertise to recite a nursery rhyme,” I retort. “Callie is way more likely to remember my words ten years later. I’m her sister, remember. Her twin.”

  Preston claps a hand on both our shoulders. That’s when I realize I’m facing Tanner, my hands on my hips, my feet a shoulder’s width apart. The universal battle stance. I’ll throw down with him, right here, right now, if that’s what it takes.

  “This would be a moot point if I could go, being a scientist as well as Callie’s father,” Preston says. “But I can’t. The moment I leave this time, my connection to her would be severed, killing her instantly and defeating the purpose of the trip.”

  He pauses, as though carefully choosing his next words. �
��May I say, Jessa, that Tanner has a point? I agree that Callie’s more likely to absorb what you say, but should something go wrong, he’s more likely to figure out how to come back to the present.”

  I back away, so that his hand falls from my shoulder. “You just don’t want me to go.”

  “True. Selfishly, as your father, I can’t bear the thought of losing either of you.”

  “Dad, you don’t understand.” The name slips out, and we both go still. I didn’t do it on purpose; I wasn’t trying to be manipulative. But now that the endearment is out there, now that I have his attention, I’m not going to squander it.

  “Callie changed the future in order to save me,” I say. “All my life, I’ve wondered if I was worthy of her sacrifice. Well, here’s my chance to prove it. She gave up her life to save mine, and now, ten years later, I have the opportunity to give her life back to her. Please, Dad. Give me this chance.”

  He gnaws his lip, and I hold my breath. Neither Tanner nor I can do anything without his permission. Preston’s the one who’s traveled through time. He essentially invented the technology, at least in North Amerie. If one of us is going back to the past, we need the father of time travel guiding us.

  Preston exhales. “How about a compromise? What if you both go? Both your arguments are valid, and although it’s twice as risky to send two of you, I think it’s twice as likely your mission will succeed. What do you say?”

  Tanner and I eye each other. If this were about only me, I wouldn’t go to a Meal Assembler café with him. But there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save Callie, even if it means working with the boy who betrayed us both.