Remember Yesterday

by Pintip Dunn

  “Jessa?”

  Father of Time, even my name sounds suggestive on his lips.

  “Yeah?” I mumble. What would I do if he tried to kiss me right now? Would I push him away? Or would I let his mouth linger for just one delicious moment…

  “Should we go see what date it is?”

  Oh. Right. Of course.

  I gather up my afghan, and we shuffle to the terminal. He tucks the blanket firmly around his waist, and a few flicks of the keyball later, the wall screen changes from a waterfall to a calendar.

  There it is. The date blinks out at me—ten years in the past. The date of Callie’s supposed death.

  “We did it,” I whisper. “We time-traveled to yesterday.”

  “More like yester-decade.” He stares at me for so long that my stomach begins to turn slow, precise somersaults.

  “What is it?” I bring my free hand to my face. “Did the time travel warp my features? Am I missing a nose or an ear—”

  “Not at all. You look as beautiful as always. It’s just…” He stops, and I gape at him. He’s never called me beautiful before. He did say I was “pretty” when he was talking about Olivia and the past, but the comment that stands out in my mind is when he described my looks as “atrocious” in the sewer.

  But now, he glosses over the compliment as if it’s a given. “There’s something I want to show you.”

  He glides his hands over the keyball, and the calendar shrinks to a corner of the screen. An instant later, a ComA-approved biography of Tanner Callahan appears on the wall.

  “The Father of Future Memory,” the title proclaims.

  I frown. “I don’t understand. Is this your father?”

  “No, it’s me. Read the biography. You’ll understand.”

  I skim the paragraphs. It summarizes Tanner’s childhood accurately, as far as I know. His birthplace of Eden City, the early and uncanny aptitude for the sciences, the demise of his parents, a list of his academic accolades. But then, the biography veers into events that have yet to occur, detailing his experiments at uni, his marriage and offspring, the significant and wide-ranging discoveries he made in his forties. The text is even accompanied by an image of a middle-aged Tanner, one with laugh lines and a squarer, fuller jaw.

  “The bio talks about you as if you’re an older man.” My eyes drift to the calendar in the corner. “But you must be, what? Six years old, just like me? Did they get this information from a future memory?”

  “Nah. I mean, Olivia had some foreknowledge, but even she couldn’t tell for sure what the future held. They just made up the whole thing.” He steps toward me, and his knees brush mine through the blanket. “You see, back then, er, I guess I should say right now, FuMA had a very keen interest in making everyone believe that future memory had already been invented. It was how they got their legitimacy. They needed people to believe that they couldn’t change their futures. Imagine how much chaos would ensue if people found out future memory hadn’t even been discovered yet. Thus, they needed an inventor, a Father of Future Memory.” He spreads his arms out, making the blanket shift precariously on his waist. “They picked me.”

  It hits me then. Of course. His name was in the stories Callie used to tell me—in particular, the one where she got her name. I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection until now. According to Callie, our father named her after the greatest inventor of their time. Callie Ann for Callahan.

  Tanner Callahan.

  He gestures to the photo of his older self. “They could’ve extrapolated a better picture. I’m much handsomer in real life, don’t you think?”

  I ignore his comment. “Let me get this straight. You knew from the time you were six years old that you were destined to discover future memory?”

  “I knew the future legacy they had created for me,” he corrects. “The future they hoped would come true. From that moment, I was determined to fulfill their prophecy.” He takes a deep breath, and his chest brushes against my hand clutching the afghan. “Especially after what happened to my parents.”

  I swallow. “Was this around the time they died?”

  Instead of answering, he swipes his fingers along the keyball, and a news vid pops onto the screen. “The chairwoman made sure this was recorded. She told the reporters that my parents were important dignitaries. But really, I think she just wanted a visual reminder to hold over me. To make sure I stayed in line.”

  Silently, we watch the short clip.

  An older couple waves at the camera and then kisses a little boy—Tanner, I realize with a pang. I’d recognize those dark eyebrows anywhere. In the background, the TechRA building spears into the sky, majestic and imposing.

  The couple climbs into a self-driving vehicle—a silver-plated spherical pod—and the car takes off. But something’s wrong. The pod veers wildly back and forth. An instant later, it slams into a building and bursts into flames.

  I gasp, bringing a hand to my throat. A voice-over tells us that the FuMA-issued vehicle had malfunctioned and the inhabitants, Deacon and Brenna Callahan, special guests of Chairwoman Dresden herself, died upon impact.

  The clip ends, and Tanner restores the wall screen to its placid waterfall. Still, I can see the flames licking up the sides of the pod.

  “Were those…your parents?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

  He nods, pulling the blanket around his chest as if he’s suddenly cold.

  “The car was FuMA-issued,” I continue. Dresden’s statement replays in my mind: You must be loyal to me…or people will die. I wondered if her words were an idle threat; I wondered if anyone actually died. But I was too distraught at the time to pay much attention.

  Now, my chest feels tight, and my mouth tastes of bile. I don’t want it to be true—I can’t bear for it to be true. But the logical conclusion gets right up in my face and refuses to disappear.

  “Did Dresden have anything to do with the malfunction?” I whisper.

  He looks at me then, and his eyes are so empty, so bleak that the breath is squeezed from my lungs.

  “She warned me,” he says in a low voice. “She said if I didn’t quit my whining about going home and seeing my parents, she would punish me. I was property of ComA now, and I had to learn that the most important priority in my life was science. If I continued to be distracted by other things, she would make sure my life was rid of all such frivolity.”

  My mouth drops. “She killed your parents so you would focus on your experiments?”

  He nods once. But once is all it takes. One “accident” is all it takes to shape a child. One command is all it takes to extinguish two lives. One leader is all it takes to chart a world’s course into madness.

  “That’s what I meant when I said that science was all I ever knew.” He rubs the back of his neck. “At first, I fixated on my projects out of fear. My parents were the only ones who loved me, but they weren’t the only people in my life. Olivia was my playmate, even though she never admitted to liking me. And there was MK, who watched us both. They weren’t family, but I didn’t want to see them hurt.

  “After a while, my obsession became habit. I started believing what they told me—that I would become the greatest scientist of our time. I wanted that. For myself, but also for my parents.” A muscle twitches in his cheek. “I thought that if I accomplished everything the chairwoman wanted from me, if I became the Father of Future Memory, not just in name but also in fact…then maybe I could redeem myself for my parents’ deaths. Maybe I could make sense out of the senseless.”

  “Oh, Tanner.” The lump in my throat grows so big it might choke me. “Your parents’ deaths weren’t your fault. It was the fault of a madwoman who will do anything to get what she wants.”

  “I know that here.” He points to his temple. “But it’s much harder to convince myself here.” He spreads his hand over his bare chest.

  Don’t I know it. That same guilt pushes me to do the same thing. Something so big and important that i
t will redeem myself, once and for all.

  For Tanner, it was the invention of future memory. For me…I don’t know yet. Saving my sister will bring me close, but it won’t get me all the way there. Whatever the answer is, I have a feeling it’s rooted here. In the past.

  “Your younger self,” I say. “The six-year-old Tanner. He’s there now, isn’t he? In the TechRA building. That’s where he lives, right?”

  He blinks, as if the fact just occurred to him. “I suppose so. Just like your younger self is there now.”

  “Are you going to try to see him tomorrow?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t see what good can come of it.”

  I agree. I’m not even sure why I asked, other than the fact that it seems strange that our younger selves will be somewhere in the building. Completely vulnerable to the future that lies ahead of them. I want to grab both kids, wrap them in my arms, and keep them safe. But that’s never been an option.

  “Come on.” I stand. The afghan slips over my shoulder, but my nudity no longer seems relevant. Even when Tanner’s gaze flickers down, for the briefest moment, to my bare breasts. “Let’s go find some clothes before my mom comes home.”

  45

  Five minutes later, I’m wearing one of Callie’s school uniforms, a lightweight silver jumpsuit that zips up the front. Tanner instructed me to be quick—and I’m glad. Otherwise, I might’ve been tempted to sit on Callie’s bed and imagine the last time she slept there. To play some of her holo-vids, which no doubt feature manual chefs separating eggs or whipping up soufflés. To shove my hands underneath the mattress to see if anything’s hidden there.

  That last thing I actually do. And I’m not sorry because I find something. I carry the object back to the living area, where Tanner’s waiting.

  “What do you have?” he asks as I come into the room. He has on a pair of my dad’s old scrubs—pale blue, soft cotton, with multiple pockets for scientific instruments.

  My heart lurches. Just a tiny bit. Tanner would be the first to tell you he looks good in everything. In this instance, he’s actually right. With the contrast of the pale fabric against his tanned skin and the way the shirt settles on his shoulders, he looks adorable.

  “I found a book of poems.” I lay it gingerly on the table. It’s a real book, a physical book, with a cracked binding and tissue-thin pages. Even at this time, real books were rare; in my present, they’re damn near nonexistent.

  Opening the book, I find a brilliant red leaf, dried and crumbling, pressed between the pages.

  I suck in a breath. I’ve seen leaves like this in only one other place. Logan’s house. Because he doesn’t have an ample supply of books, he presses them under other objects. A wooden fruit bowl, a fluffy bath rug, warrior statues made out of bolts and washers. I used to make a game out of finding his stash of leaves. But not once has he ever explained what the leaves were for. Or whom they were supposed to represent.

  All of a sudden, a memory flashes across my mind. I am crouching in the dirt with Logan, rolling leaves into roses. It was Callie’s Memory’s Eve. The day before she disappeared from our lives. The day before everything changed.

  Reverently, I trace my finger along the veins. “I think this leaf has something to do with Logan and Callie’s relationship.”

  “You should put it back,” Tanner says, a muscle throbbing in his forehead. “That book has nothing to do with our mission. Remember what Preston said about altering the past?”

  “It’s just a book,” I protest. “What could it hurt if I look at it?”

  “Put it back. The flap of a butterfly’s wing may cause a hurricane on the other side of the world. We can’t know.”

  He’s right. I’d forgotten, but I won’t let it slip my mind again. Closing the book, I hurry back to Callie’s sleeping area and slide the book under the mattress, where it belongs.

  When I return to the living area, Tanner raises an eyebrow. “Did you place the book at the same angle as how you found it? Did you make sure the entire leaf was tucked safely inside?”

  “I don’t know.” I bite my lip. Now that I think of it, I’m pretty sure a corner of the leaf was sticking out of the book. “But what difference can it make? Preston said only the big events, with far-reaching ripples, would have an effect on our present world.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. But maybe you’d better fix it, just in case.”

  “Fine. I’ll go back and—”

  The front door rattles. Tanner and I freeze. How can it be time already? By Preston’s calculation, we should’ve had an hour before my mom returned from the Russells’ living unit, where she welcomed Callie and Logan back to civilization and watched them eat spaghetti squash.

  An hour couldn’t have passed already. It couldn’t.

  And yet, the door opens, and my mother walks into the room—at least, my mother as she was ten years earlier, ridiculously young and just as lovely.

  “Callie! How in space did you get here before me?” She crosses to me, smelling like vanilla. She doesn’t smell like this anymore. I can’t remember the last time she smelled like this. “Weren’t you supposed to sleep over at the Russells’? You should be in bed. Big day tomorrow. And did you cut your hair?”

  She picks up a strand of my hair—and I see the moment that it hits her. This is not her daughter Callie but somebody else.

  Her eyes widen, and she takes a careful step back. “You’re not Callie.”

  “No, I’m not.” I take a deep breath. “I’m your other daughter. Jessa.”

  “Impossible. Jessa’s six years old. She’s been taken away by FuMA, and Callie’s going to rescue her tomorrow…” She lifts my chin, and my features hit the light. “Dear Fates, you look just like her.”

  “We’re twins, you know. Eleven years removed. But now that I’ve traveled from ten years in the future, we’re practically the same age.”

  Her jaw drops. “Time travel? You can’t mean…” Again, her words die. Because she knows better than most that time travel exists and nothing is impossible. “Jessa?” she whispers, her voice hoarse with wonder and fervent, desperate hope. “Is it really you? From the future?”

  I nod. Tears spring into her eyes, and she jumps forward to wrap her arms around me. “Oh my baby Jessa. Look how you’ve grown. Look how pretty you are.” She pulls back, drinking in my face. “That means it worked. Callie was successful. I knew she could do it. I knew she could save your life. If anyone is strong enough to fight Fate—and win—I knew it would be her.”

  “Yes.” I can’t tell her the truth. That my sister was successful, but not in the way she imagines. That Callie did manage to save my life—but at the expense of her own.

  She grips my hands. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  “I’ve been gone for only a few days,” I say, referring to my six-year-old self.

  “My heart breaks every hour, every minute that you’re not with me,” she says, her voice trembling, her eyes searing into mine.

  I frown. Who is this woman? It’s certainly not my mother, at least not the one I’ve known for the last four years. That woman is more restrained; our conversations are much more stilted. She would never pour out her heart like this—and assume her affections will be accepted without question.

  Oh Fates. This was the woman she was before tragedy struck. This open, affectionate woman is my mother before both her daughters were ripped away from her.

  I close my eyes and take shallow, openmouthed breaths. It is almost too much to bear. I would rip apart my very soul if I could save her from the pain she’s about to endure. But I have to think of Remi. Remi and all the children born in the last decade. I can’t go around changing the past because of them.

  Oblivious to my distress, my mother winds an arm around my shoulders. “Now who is this young man?” She gestures at Tanner, and he smiles angelically at her. But angelic for Tanner still looks like the devil, and my mom’s hand tightens on my arm, as if to say: What are his intentions? Shou
ld I be worried?

  “His name is Tanner Callahan,” I say. “He’s a scientist, and he accompanied me on this trip to the past.”

  She frowns, and I remember that she’s familiar with the ins and outs of time travel. “Naked?”

  “Your daughter’s quick with the afghan,” he says earnestly. “I tried as hard as I could, but I caught only a glimpse.”

  My mom tries to frown, and then smiles, and then frowns again. “Tanner Callahan,” she repeats slowly. “Any relationship to the Father of Future Memory?”

  Of course she knows his name. Everybody did in this time.

  “People say I look just like him,” he says, eyes wide and innocent. “Except Jessa. She thinks I’m way hotter.”

  My mouth drops open. “I do not!”

  “You didn’t say it. But I could tell you were thinking it.”

  “Mom!” I turn to my mother, hoping she’ll put Tanner in his place. But she doesn’t even bother to hide her amusement now.

  “He has a point, dear heart.” She smiles broadly at him. Hmph. Figures she would like the cocky scientist type. “But I can’t officially sanction you flirting with my daughter, Mr. Callahan. So would you mind if I steal Jessa away? I don’t have much time to get everything packed.”

  “Go right ahead,” he says with a broad, identical smile. He sits on the recliner, crossing his hands behind his head. “I’ll be here.”

  Looping an arm through mine, my mom guides me down the hall and into her room. It’s not until she pulls a suitcase from under the floorboards that her words sink in.

  “Pack?” I ask. “Pack for what?”

  “To go with you and Callie to Harmony, silly. Surely you must know that. Since you’re from the future…” She trails off. “Oh no. You’re from the future. We don’t make it safely to Harmony. Something goes wrong tomorrow, doesn’t it?”

  I blink. Wait a minute. Doesn’t she know she’s supposed to stay and act as an anchor? She said she’d received a message from the future. I assumed it was a future memory. But what if it wasn’t? What if it was…me?