Soul Source: Back and There Again

by Charles Vella

  "Oh what's the use?" she muttered.

  "Indeed." She almost jumped at the voice.

  "What do you want Pruitt?" Come to gloat? Don't be so sure you've got anything to gloat about. Sure. Try to convince yourself of that.

  "I came to tell you that it won't matter." What was this? The more agitated Pruitt got the calmer his exterior became and he was almost comatose. All except his eyes, which bored into Agnes with an intensity that she could feel physically.

  "Won't matter? What won't matter?"

  "I don't have any idea how you found it," he dismissed the question. "But it just won't matter. I won't let you, or anyone else, do it."

  "Do what? I don't have time for riddles Pruitt."

  "Don't play games with me Agnes. You can't win. You never could. Because you're a loser. That's why I chose you all those years ago." He smiled thinly as Agnes's face flushed. "I know exactly why you want that mission to go forward. You want to spare yourself the tawdry little feelings of guilt you carry like a cross and you don't care what the costs are."

  "Tawdry little..." she sputtered. "What kind of person are you Pruitt?" She rose out of her chair and met his stare. "How do you live with it?" she whispered.

  "Easily," he answered. "There is no guilt or innocence Agnes. Those are constructs created by the weak to avoid taking responsibility for their actions. There is only cause and effect. That is what I set out to prove in that little experiment."

  "Little experiment?"

  "But cause and effect can't be tampered with Agnes. I won't allow it. And if you think you can thwart me you're sadly mistaken."

  "I'm sending Sarah on the mission Pruitt."

  What'd she expect? To rattle him. To see some chink in his armor? But it wasn't worry or even anger that she was seeing in those evil eyes. It was contempt. One corner of his mouth tilted up in a faint imitation of a smile.

  "Oh Agnes," his soft voice bored into her. "You're just like everyone else. Always one step behind." He turned and disappeared through the door.

  Agnes stared after him, working to slow her heart rate back down. What did he mean by that? How was she a step behind? Was he a step ahead? It was like playing poker with a computer. Did a computer know how to bluff?

  Why isn't he worried about Sarah? She sat back in the chair. What was that he'd said when he'd come in? He'd come to accuse her of something. What'd was it? He didn't have any idea how she'd found it. It? There's only one it she could think of. The tape. Could somebody've taken the tape? And he thought she'd done it? But who? Whoever it was it couldn't be worse than... She froze. Replayed the scene with Rick. How she wanted to stop the mission. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. That conversation with Pruitt. Had one of them mentioned the tape? Yes. They must've. She was wrong. It not only could be worse, it was worse. That toad Verma had the tape. And that meant...No. It didn't bear thinking about.

  She stood and walked to the aquarium. Watched dim forms flit past in the black water. But if Verma had it why hadn't he given it to Rick? He must want to see what's on it first. Verify what it is. That meant he'd have to get to an old fashioned video machine. Not many of them around except...Where'd they put that? Her antique video machine? Never mind why she'd kept it all these years. What that said about her psyche. They'd told her it was stored until they got Huang's xylophones and whatever the other things were moved out. Did Verma know where it was? He was head of security. If he didn't he'd find out. Could he figure out how to operate it?

  There wasn't any time to waste. She had to get ahold of that recorder. Should've had more time. More time to figure it all out. To act. But time was pushing in behind her like a crowd at a train station. Shoving her closer and closer to the tracks as the single headlight blinded her from closer and closer. She had to get Sarah on that mission. But she had to talk to her first. And the prisoner... she didn't even know his name. She'd never thought about it before but she hadn't known it back then and she'd never been able to even glance at the news about the attack and trial. Which one was he? She had to get to him before that cop did. So what if she did? Just walked down there and said she wanted to try talking to him herself? It sounded lame even to her and who knew what he'd say? He might give her away. Might not be any choice though. She had to be on the plane for Washington in a few hours and she hadn't come up with even a remote plan for disabling the surveillance cameras to get to him. And now she needed that recorder. She sighed. Turned. Gave a little scream.

  "You told me to come up," Verma said sulkily as she tried to slow her heart down.

  You. She almost accused him right there from shock, but managed, "don't people knock around here?" instead.

  "You called me," he whined. No doubt he'd been treated to a reaming by Rick for screwing up. That's probably the only thing saving her. Otherwise he'd've probably given Rick the tape by now.

  "I have to go to Washington," she said, buying time while her mind raced to try to figure out what to do first.

  He nodded. His 'so' implicit.

  "When will that policeman talk to the prisoner?"

  "Any time. He's complaining about how long it's taking. Wants a tour. We don't give tours. And I'm not..."

  "I'll be back from Washington tomorrow night," she said. "He can see him the next morning. Thursday."

  "I know what day it is."

  "The mission will go Friday."

  "You need to tell..."

  "I'll let everyone know," she snapped. She'd have to get to the prisoner Wednesday night. When she got back. Somehow. If their conversation ended up on the surveillance video there wasn't anything she could do about it. Once the mission was over it wouldn't matter. None of it would matter. Then she had to find time with Sarah. To brief her on where to go. What to do. She needed that IT guy. The weird one.

  "I need Dutch," she said in dismissal.

  "Then send him a screen," he almost snarled at her. Rick must've reamed him badly. Thank God for small favors.

  "Alright. I'll..."

  "Sorry to interrupt." They both turned to that inane smile in the doorway. "I was just passing by and thought I heard someone mention my name."

  11

  "Charging station," Monica snapped as she leapt through the door and strode to the building. What would it do? Go get charged? Ignore her? Sit at the curb and argue with itself? Call the dealer and complain? Well she wouldn't be there to hear it. That's it. Think about the car. Don't worry about what's going on that's so important to get you in here in the middle of the night.

  She leaned into the retinal scanner and the door swept open. Nothing going on in the dimly-lit atrium this time of day. She rode the elevator down, staring at the floor. The elevator stopped and the door opened. She passed through the foyer, opened the door with the retinal scanner, caught a face looking down the hall at her. Her heart leapt but Griff turned and disappeared around the corner without acknowledging her and she was left waving her hand at the empty air.

  "Didn't see me." She hurried down the hall. OK. She'd been a jerk, but no more than he'd been. OK. She'd been more of a jerk than him, but was he going to hold that against her? Just because she'd stuck a high heel into the most tender part of his psyche and ground down on it with all her weight? When she got to the end of the hall he was gone.

  Well the hell with it and the hell with him. Where was it going anyway? Why keep tied down to a man who can't take responsibility? It was a relationship bridge to nowhere. She was lucky. "Shit."

  "Is it my perfume?" Monica whirled around and was looking into Eileen's forced smile as she hurried out of a room in a file of people. Eileen looked past her shoulder. "Looking for someone?"

  "Looking for someone?" Monica laughed. "Who would I be looking for?" Eileen's brow knotted. So much for carefree gaiety. Have to work at it in the mirror.

  "Griff left the meeting right before me. I'm surprised he's not out here." Eileen's eyes moved from over Monica's shoulder to her eyes. "He must've be
en in a hurry."

  "Well he's a busy guy," Monica threw her head back and laughed again.

  Eileen nodded with an expression that told her she still wasn't hitting the lighthearted note she'd aimed for. "Come on," she said. Monica followed her to the escalator as people fanned out from the room talking excitedly. "The place is going crazy."

  "What's going on?" The door swished open and Monica followed her down.

  "Please do not walk on the escalator."

  "God I hope they turn that thing off now that Ted's gone. It's this mission," Eileen went on as they swirled down past a series of closed doors in a loose knot of others moving in the same direction. "It's been moved up."

  "Mission?"

  "Don't tell me you haven't heard? It's top secret." She waved the pad and pencil over her shoulder. "So naturally I assumed everyone knew."

  They got to the launch level and strode down the hall toward the mission area.

  "Think we'll go back to screens now that Ted's gone?" Monica asked for something to say.

  "Doubt it. That isn't just Ted's paranoia. He had Sarah try to hack the systems and she came back with the minutes and notes of every meeting in the past month. If Sarah can do it I'm sure the Russian mobs have people who can. Not to mention the Chinese. Can you imagine what would happen if the government got wind of what we're doing here? Apes in sunglasses walking down the hall looking for people to throw out of windows. Which is maybe where we are."

  "I heard something about it," Monica finally admitted after that conversational opening had died. She struggled to fight down the hope rising inside her like a fragile flower reaching toward sunlight at the thought of being called in at four am for the mission. "But since no one'd told me anything I figured I wasn't involved."

  "Oh you're involved alright." Something in Eileen's tone made Monica's stomach drop several inches. "I assume you're wondering why I brought you in here?" What good conversation had ever started that way? That was the question the principal or the boss asked accompanied by an uncomfortable clearing of the throat. 'We know what happened in the bathroom during the dance.' 'Wouldn't it be nice to spend more time with your family?' Just in case the question didn't convince her that the world was poised to come to an end, Eileen frowned and found a spot somewhere in the distance to look at while she talked. People always said that uncertainty was the worst but that was stupid. 'Let me put you at ease. We're shooting you at dawn.'

  "Doesn't sound like I'm being promoted." Ha. Good one. But the bad joke just bounced off Eileen and lay there. Not the time for jokes. Like walking up to a guy staring at his mother in a coffin, draping your arm around him. 'Did I ever tell you the one about...'

  "I still don't understand Monica," Eileen said, but she sounded too tired to work up any real emotion. Her eyes glanced over to Monica then shifted again as if she couldn't bear to look at her. Monica felt herself shrinking as she walked. She'd found a way to travel back in time without technology. She was ten again, listening to some adult tell her how disappointed she was in her. She opened her mouth, but what was she going to do? Explain? Explain what? Eileen was right. They were all right. Even Pruitt, although it sent a shudder through her body to think it.

  "Well," Eileen finally sighed. "Doesn't matter. I've got an assignment for you."

  "Oh?" she squeaked.

  They reached the launch room, passed through the retinal and thumb scanner and stepped into a flurry of activity that almost felt like panic.

  "As I said, the mission's been moved up. Agnes wanted it Friday, which was bad enough. Then she leaves town and suddenly it's today."

  "Who..."

  "Pruitt. Of all people." She shook her head. "I don't know what the hell's going on. Today," she repeated as she stopped and watched people working at screens and running back and forth. "The most complicated thing we've undertaken and we're doing it in a day. A couple of hours." She shook her head.

  "And I'll be involved?" Monica aimed for casual but it sounded more like begging tinged with desperation.

  "Oh yes. You'll be involved. There'll be some changes in the teams though."

  "Changes in the team? What changes?" Monica felt herself harden. "I'm not going without Sarah. She and I are partners. If the planning committee thinks you're sending me without her you've got another thing coming." She should thank them. They'd chased the blues completely away and left her angry. Well she wasn't going to...

  "No," Eileen answered, and something in her voice hit Monica in the forehead like a hammer. Eileen inhaled deeply and plunged on. "You don't need to worry. You won't be going without Sarah. You won't be going at all. You'll be providing support."

  "Support?" she asked in a voice that sounded as if it'd come from a long way away? Her anger deflated like a balloon with a gunshot wound.

  "Support. To Team One."

  "To Team One," Monica parroted tonelessly.

  "Oh yes," Eileen said with a grim set to her mouth that Monica recognized from her mother when she'd grounded her for homecoming. This may hurt you more than me but I don't like it either. The double whammy. Punishment for screwing up and guilt for forcing it on the person dishing it out. Monica's head nodded in time with the funeral bell tolling somewhere in the recesses of her brain. "You'll be supporting Veronica. Not only that." Eileen leaned close. "Veronica has a new second."

  "A new second?" For God's sake. Stop repeating everything she says. "What happened to Sheila?"

  "Ingrown toenail. She went to a hospital emergency room."

  "Oh no." Monica winced.

  "Oh yes," Eileen sighed. "The infection she picked up is resistant to every antibiotic known to man. She'll be lucky to keep her leg. Anyway..." She projected a screen on her wrist and stared down at it. "Sarah's going to be joining Team One as Veronica's second."

  Monica's mouth opened. Closed. Opened. She couldn't say it. She couldn't say anything. Sarah? Going back without her? After what she'd done? Ruined her own career to cover for her. Refused any offer to drop her?

  "Sarah," she finally managed to squeak. "She won't go," she said hopelessly.

  Eileen looked at her balefully. "I don't get it," she finally admitted. "I don't know why Pruitt's suddenly so anxious for this mission that he'll send Sarah. And I certainly don't know why he wants to speed up the process, except that he wants to do it before Agnes gets back." The look on her face said she may not know why, but she knew she didn't like it.

  "What's the mission?" Monica finally asked because she couldn't think of anything else to say.

  "They'll be going back twenty-four years."

  The coup de grace. With a hammer. "Twenty-four years?" This had to be the worse day of her life. Worse than the time she'd swiveled around so fast during the prom that the top of her dress hadn't been able to keep up and someone'd posted pictures on the school website.

  Someone slipped Monica's spine out of her body and she almost sagged to the floor, but fortunately Eileen was staring at the activity around them and didn't notice. Twenty-four years. It was expecting not to get the car Saturday night and finding out you were grounded for homecoming, the prom, and your wedding. It wasn't fair. Monica was seized by the sudden urge to go out and scream at her car.

  "It isn't fair...Sorry," she shook her head at Eileen's rolling eyes. "It slipped out."

  "Monica," Eileen sighed as they stood among the bustle. "I tried to go to bat for you." They locked eyes and in spite of it all it was Monica who burst out into a short laugh first. A corner of Eileen's mouth twitched up. "Bad metaphor. I tried to talk them out of it..."

  "Twenty-four years," Monica whispered. "Two thousand twelve. I remember that year. My parents gave me a bike for my birthday. You had to drive cars then. They ran on gas. You had to take them to gas stations yourself because the cars couldn't drive themselves. You actually had to carry your screen around with you. They called them tablets. Phones. We had one that wasn't a screen. In the house. All you could do was talk on
it. No one ever used it. My father used to complain about paying for it but my mother said we needed it in case of some vague emergency. And the stores. Stores you went into and picked things out. I can remember going to buy dresses. And there were people working there. You paid them. You still paid with cards instead of on line. Even with paper money." She felt her eyes well up. No one but squatters in those stores now. The ones that hadn't been torn down.

  "Alright Monica," Eileen said. "Plenty of time for a pity party later." But the line of her mouth softened and Monica saw sympathy in her eyes, which might be worse. "Right now we have work to do. We're sending two people back to a time before there was time travel. No matter what we think of them or the mission we need to make sure they're prepared to come back safely. Can you do that?"

  Monica took a deep breath. She nodded. "What's the mission?"

  Eileen sighed. "There was a terrorist attack. Some guys shot up a convention of young scientists. Or tried to anyway. They evidently managed to kill more of themselves than the people at the convention. There were so many people attacking each other for ideological reasons, for no reasons, back then..."

  "Right. Now it's just drunks and road rage shootings."

  "Road rage in self-driving cars. Now that's progress." Eileen shook her head. "That's the advantage of everyone having guns. Nobody bothers to plan their mayhem anymore. Just start blasting away the first time they get irritated. Anyway, from what I understand there's new evidence about the person who let the terrorists in. We're supposed to go back and collect that evidence."