by Chogan Swan
There were so many people smells, she started sorting them out then stopped. What was this one? Male, yes, but there was something. . . . She stood and looked around to discover if he was where she could see him. The streets weren’t busy, so she had a chance. A possible suspect walked into a storefront on Main Street. After a few moments, the scent became more muted as though the scent had left the open air. Tiana assigned the suspect a high probability; she would check the store first, but even if that wasn’t him, she would track this one down. She had his scent.
There was a sign on the front of the store that showed a picture of a stag, The White Hart, proclaimed the lettering.
How delightfully anglophilic… and fitting too….
“Time to go a questing, Tiana.,” she murmured. “That’s potential you’re a smelling—capital ‘P’ potential.”
Chapter 2 (Bad date)
Jonah Brandyr swirled his coffee in the cup as his date left the White Hart. He supposed it might be the most expensive coffee he’d ever had. It tasted fine, but he was leaning toward the conclusion that online dating had a bad reputation for a good reason. Maybe he should swear off the OKCupid.
Surely, even if there was someone who thought ‘meet for coffee’ meant ‘eat a rack of spareribs’, everyone knew ‘going Dutch’ meant ‘buy your own damn spareribs’. He rubbed the tension kink in his neck, pretty sure he was right.
Watching her eat with grease-smeared fingers while he sipped coffee trying to make conversation, was bad enough without getting stuck with the bill.
‘I didn’t even think to bring my wallet,’ she’d said with wide-eyed innocence, barbecue sauce smeared across her chin.
An innocent mistake?
He snorted.
He’d been more trusting once. Jonah sighed.
Make that ‘more of a chump’.
But he’d paid for her food hadn’t he? He shook his head and smirked.
Still a chump.
At least this time it had only cost him an hour and thirty-five bucks instead of twenty-eight years and fourteen thousand per month alimony—for life.
Jonah glanced around to see if any friends had witnessed the debacle. He didn’t recognize anyone, but a woman wearing a black Victorian costume and a veil was looking his direction, some steampunk event he guessed. She had nailed the Victorian period mourning dress, especially the veil. He sighed again; she was probably looking at something on the wall behind him. He picked up his coffee and moved to the deck at the back of the dining room for a breath of fresh air.
He sat at a table, and looked at the James River, rolling its muddy way to the Atlantic. As he took a moment to finish his coffee, an idea occurred to him, and he pulled his notebook from his messenger bag. Arrows and reinforcing loops flowed onto the page; blocky letters labeled the forces at work with an occasional note about possible equations or function shapes.
As Jonah worked, he didn’t register that someone else had come outside, but his head snapped up when he heard the melodious, “Good evening, sir.” It was the woman in the black dress and veil. Her dark skin and sharp features showed through the veil but without details.
“Good evening, madam,” he said, acting the Victorian gentleman. “The dress is lovely. Whatever historic reenactment you are taking part in is enriched.” He stood and bowed.
“Thank you.” Her melodic voice danced with amusement. “I’m sorry if I interrupted.”
Jonah smiled. “Not at all, it was only a thought I wanted to capture.”
“I apologize for looking over your shoulder, but the diagrams, what are they?”
Jonah hesitated, he could say it was a confidential project for work, but that wasn’t true and something about her eager, intelligent voice made him take a chance. “Well, this one began as a joke,” he said, “but I wonder now if it’s more. The sketch is a ‘causal-loop diagram’. And it outlines the dynamics in a system.”
He turned the notebook to a finished diagram. “This one is a classic ‘bubble to burst’ diagram of an event like the stock market crash that started the Great Depression or the Dutch tulip bulb craze. Here the forces of greed and fear counteract each other with positive and negative reinforcing loops. As prices rise, people invest to make money. Then the fear of loss reaches a threshold, the system changes to a selling frenzy and prices fall as the market crashes.”
Jonah smiled at her partly obscured face. My idea was that these types of dynamics operate in relationships between people or groups of people.” He stopped. If she laughed and dismissed it as, ‘all beyond her’ he could be home in ten minutes. He’d wasted enough time tonight.
She reached over and tapped the notebook. “You are, in fact, quantifying the behavior of a system,” she said. “Do you have more of these etchings? I would be pleased to see them. My name is, Tiana,” she added.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tiana. I’m Jonah. And if you want to see my etchings, you had me at ‘quantifying the behavior of a system’.”
He grinned.
She chuckled and offered him her gloved hand. Her narrow fingers had a firm grip.
“Then take me to your etchings, good sir. And damned be he, or she, who first cries ‘hold enough’.”
“And now Shakespeare? This keeps getting better. Would you care to come with me on my motorcycle or do you prefer your own vehicle?”
“Ah! The motorized velocipede? I walked here, so I would be pleased to go with you on whatever conveyance you dare take. I will not go back on my Shakespeare so soon. But let me use the powder room first so I can fix my habit for the journey.”
Jonah bowed again as she turned to go, and she changed her turn to a pivoting curtsy. Her graceful departure lingered in his thoughts as he took his empty cup to the counter. He’d wait all night for a woman who used ‘quantify’ in a sentence. He wondered what her face looked like under the veil. She spoke without exotic or regional accent. Other than the Victorian phrasing, which she never dropped, she seemed completely cosmopolitan.
She returned from the restroom in a minute, her dress somehow converted to pantaloons. He offered his arm, led her back through the coffee house to his bike and handed her the passenger helmet. She had it on and secure before he finished his own. When he offered her his hand to help her on, she took it with a gracious nod, but it was clear she didn’t need help. He stepped on in front and started the bike. Tiana wrapped one arm around him, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder to signal she was ready before clasping her hands. He smiled, no fuss, no trying to distance herself from him. Most passengers couldn’t understand that safety was more important than decorum. He checked traffic and took the bike smoothly through the gears up the 12th street hill. “I only live a few blocks from here,” he shouted. She squeezed his shoulder, letting him know she understood.
~~~{Tiana}~~~
When they pulled into the driveway of Jonah’s house, Tiana got off the bike and paused for a few moments. This whole street was radically changed. It was only a few blocks from her house, but most of the homes in this section between Diamond Hill and Garland Hill hadn’t been here in 1896. Jonah’s house had started construction the week she’d finished the crèche and now it was being renovated, probably not the first time, or even the third…. It was unsettling.
She’d overheard enough of the conversation during his meal with the woman with atrocious table manners to know he lived alone. He looked to be in his mid-forties, but he was ten years older. Tiana had sampled skin from his neck during the ride and processed the information locked in the cells. From the way he moved and the muscle tone of his stomach and arms, he was obviously diligent about a regimen of physical fitness.
He stepped up beside her as she looked at the house. “I don’t even want to tell you how many houses I’ve renovated. You would think me a hopeless compulsive.” He paused. “And you might be right. It’s a bit more presentable inside, though I wasn’t expecting company, and my housekeeper has been busy with other projects. Of course, I am t
he housekeeper.” He said the last part as though he never expected her to think for a moment he didn’t keep house himself.
The world turns.
A single man of social stature with no housekeeper would have been unheard of 120 years ago.
She chuckled and nodded, her face still hidden by the helmet. She walked up the porch steps, taking longer than needed with the helmet strap so her face stayed concealed.
Jonah unlocked the door. There was a dim light shining from the foyer. Tiana stepped inside as he reached for the light switch—forestalling him before his hand reached it.
“Oh, excuse me,” she said, but she closed the door without moving.
In the dim light, her surroundings were still clear. The walls were a deep soothing blue set off by warm, polished heart pine floors. “What a lovely foyer.” she said then raised her veil, stepped closer and kissed him on the mouth. He didn’t move away.
Interesting.
He hadn’t been expecting the kiss, but he’d returned it, exploring her lips with gentle skill. Tiana released a few pheromones into his mouth along with the compound she’d prepared. The scent of his arousal increased, but he didn’t take advantage, letting her set the pace.
She stepped back.
“Can we light candles?” she asked. “I do so prefer conversation by firelight. Don’t you?”
Jonah smiled and bowed his head. “As you wish.”
He offered her his arm and led her through open pocket-doors to a parlor then seated her at a comfortable sofa. More pocket-doors opened to the south, leading to a dining area. A large Persian rug graced the floor, and a chestnut drop-leaf table hugged the wall. The focal point of the room was a lovingly restored, mahogany Beckwith upright-grand, a popular piano model in the 1890s.
Jonah lit two candles on the coffee table. Do you care for refreshment? Water? Wine? I have a passable Malbec or a decent Chardonnay if you prefer whites… his voice trailed off when he turned and saw her in the candlelight.
Tiana glimpsed herself in the mirror over the fireplace behind him. The red whorls across her chocolate skin glowed like coals in a campfire. Her smooth head emphasized the stripes swirling over its skin.
“What beautiful body art!” Jonah said in a hushed voice.
She laughed in delight. She’d been expecting to deal with astonishment or shock, not calm admiration. “Thank you. And I would like a glass of water, please.”
“I’ll only be a moment,” he said, stepping into the hall. Tiana listened to him rattling glasses and pouring water from a pitcher while she looked around the room. On either side of the couch were two large glass-front bookcases, the bottom rows crammed with math and engineering textbooks. Some words in the titles were unfamiliar. The higher shelves held an eclectic selection. A translation of Sun Tzu’s Art of War rested on top, but most of the books were written after she’d branched. An unknown Jules Verne story peeked from the end.
She longed to find out what had happened in literature the last twelve decades, but resisted the urge.
Patience… 'Paris in the Twentieth Century' can wait.
Jonah returned from the kitchen with two goblets and a pitcher of ice water while she was still scanning his bookshelves. He handed her a full water goblet. She sipped and placed it on a coaster on the coffee table and seated herself again, turning towards him. With a smile, he sat and mirrored her position.
Tiana reached out and squeezed his hand. “Jonah, I want to know more about you and hope we will get better acquainted.” She took another sip of water. “But I should tell you about myself first. Since I have the most to disclose, every passing minute will serve to convince you I’ve begun our acquaintance under false pretenses.” She looked to him to let him respond.
“Please go ahead,” Jonah said. “I’m intrigued. The last time someone said something like that I learned she had started life as a man. It wasn’t a deal breaker for me until I found out she wanted me to follow her example.”
He cocked an eyebrow.
Tiana laughed then realized he wasn’t joking. “Well, no, I assure you, I am female, have always been female, nor do I plan otherwise.”
“Good. I think you make a great female. ”
Tiana took a moment, settling her skirts, taking off her gloves and taking another sip of water. Men changing gender, that was a difficult feat even for the nii. Maybe humans meant something different by that. . . . Every passing minute made her feel more ignorant of the unseen rooms full of history behind every interaction.
“Onward then. I expect this will be unbelievable at first, but please defer judgment until you’ve heard me out, and consider the evidence.”
She reached out and touched his hand again, but wondered if this time she might be reassuring herself. “When we met, you thought my dress was an historic costume, but it is not a reproduction. A seamstress who lived here in Lynchburg made it in 1894. . . . I commissioned it myself.”
“So you were alive in 1894? How could you prove that?” said Jonah, voice guarded. Tiana smelled the doubt markers as they colored his system.
Tiana shrugged and smiled. “I will start by showing you it’s possible by introducing new information,” she said, taking her gloves from her lap and laying them on the coffee table. “May I turn on this lamp?”
“Of course,” Jonah said, sitting back, creating distance.
Tiana pulled the chain on the lamp next to the couch. “Come closer and look at my face and skin.” she invited him. She watched his eyes—where curiosity battled with skepticism. “What do you see, Jonah?”
After a moment, Jonah slid forward and examined her face, her skull, her ears, her eyes. His eyes widened as he held her hand to the light, running his fingers over joints distinctly other than his. He released her hand. “You could explain away everything—even the eyes—but not the hands. Are you… your kind from this world?” he said hoarsely.
Tiana shook her head. “No Jonah. I arrived on this planet in the year 1799. As far as I know, I am the only one of my kind on this planet.”
“But why are you wearing a dress from 1894? If you wore a burka, no one would notice you. Are you sure you aren’t hiding an invasion force in the Middle East?”
Tiana laughed. She was impressed. He had flexibility of mind. “Good questions,” she said. “Are you familiar with the story of Rip Van Winkle?”
Jonah nodded.
“My condition is analogous. I’ve been in hibernation since 1895, which brings me to why I reached out to you. I simply need your help to reconnect with society, but I am not looking for charity; I can offer good value for your help.”
Jonah took a deep breath, “Okay, wait. Can you give me a minute to process this? We can move on to my role in helping you achieve world domination in a moment. Just let me think.”
“As you wish,” Tiana said. She picked up her water, leaned back and took a few sips, watching him.
After two full minutes, Jonah cleared his throat. “Okay, I’m going to assume, for now, that you are acting in good faith… it may be a character flaw of mine. However, I also assume you have a backup plan. If I were in your position, I wouldn’t approach someone this way unless I had a contingency strategy. I realize no one would believe me, but if I started talking to people about this, it would at least make your stay in the area difficult. So what was your plan?”
Tiana tapped her fingers together, “You’ve actually studied Sun Tzu. I’m guessing The Art of War isn’t just decorating your bookshelf.”
Jonah nodded, waiting.
“When I kissed you, I put a compound in your mouth. It will ensure that tomorrow you won’t remember what happened between the kiss and going to sleep unless I give you the antidote. I assure you that I’m acting in good faith, but I can’t take chances if you refuse.”
After considering a moment, Jonah nodded. “Okay, I can accept that. It beats me ending up a corpse. So what is this exchange you propose?”
Tiana smiled and made a short sweeping motion
with her hand. “Short term contract with options renewable. In exchange for three days of your time and help, I will offer three improvements to your health. Those will take about three days to complete the work so six days—perhaps seven—of your time and hospitality would be your investment. I will offer suggestions after examining you, but options might include reversing the effects of aging by thirty years, repairing damage and scarring on organs or a boost to intelligence. Not that I’ve noted any lack.” She grinned and bowed spreading her hands to ask for pardon for any offense.
“How would you do all this? Do you have a medical facility or something?”
“Nothing like that,” Tiana said. “The ship that brought me here is at the bottom of the sea, quite unreachable now. Improving health in another species is an aspect of my own physiology. I am what your scientists call a symbiont. I am compatible with humans and many other species. In addition, in the interest of full-disclosure, I receive benefits as well. This is called mutualism in a symbiotic relationship.”
“Really? Benefits? Such as…?”
“Well, for one I don’t starve. The waste substances I remove during the process are toxic to your body but an important nourishment source for me. I can get some nutrients from plants and minerals, but I need others from a donor. I’m ethically opposed to taking the nutrition without giving something in return and my creed demands consent from sentient species. Also, I get what you might call the satisfaction of a job well done.”
Jonah tapped his foot nervously. “Okay, so dinner and job satisfaction. What is it like from my perspective? Painful?”
Tiana smirked. “I’m told the process is quite pleasant on your end.”