“Who’s in charge of this place? Brother Christopher says he’s not even authorized to be on this floor. Seems like a lot of structure.”
“Levels,” she said, her voice becoming quieter. Her eyes glanced to the ceiling. Daniel looked up, too. If there was a camera up there, he didn’t see it.
She spoke just above a whisper. “Committee Reception below us. We’re Committee Security. Then above us, Committee Management, then Directorate. Finally, the Committee Chambers. That’s where our blessed Father resides.”
“And Father is in charge?”
She nodded. “Our blessed Father.”
Her words put Daniel on alert once more. The hyper-religious nature of an organization dedicated to the management of time travel was a clear warning sign that his twenty-four-hour investigation was merited. She’d given him the first clue that he’d likely face a full-fledged bureaucracy. Potentially difficult to get answers, but at least he now knew who was at the top.
“Thanks, Sister Jacquelyn, that helps. Obviously, I’m a newcomer.” He reached out a hand and she took it, gently. “Reset accomplished. We’re square. And tonight, I’d be happy to chat or dance, or whatever people do at time travel celebrations.” As he let go of her hand, her smile returned.
“Dance, for sure,” she said, beaming once more. “Thanks, Dr. Rice.”
“Call me Daniel.”
This time, the pep in her voice sounded authentic. “Thanks, Daniel.”
The door to Daniel’s left opened, and a large man in a dark blue suit walked through. He extended his hand. “Dr. Rice. You look like your photographs. I’m Elder Benjamin.”
Jacquelyn stiffened and refocused on her computer display. Daniel glanced between the two. Something there, but very odd. Details were important.
Benjamin turned out to be a no-nonsense kind of guy, with murmurs and grunts in response to Daniel’s initial pleasantries and a stoic demeanor that sharply contrasted with the receptionist’s flirtatiousness.
They passed through three locked doors that opened automatically as they approached. A properly authorized olinwun in the pocket seemed to do the trick.
Deep inside the vault-like interior of Committee Security, they entered a plain windowless room with a desk and three chairs. Two other men joined them, introduced as Brother Samuel and Brother Joseph.
“Put your olinwun on the desk,” Benjamin said as he took the seat behind the desk. Daniel retrieved it from his pocket. “Touch it.” He did, and a green banner popped up with his name above and several menu commands below.
Benjamin took control, touching the coin in coordination with the in-air display and ending up on Daniel’s profile page. “We’ll need a physical sample to distinguish you… from you, so to speak.” He waved to Brother Samuel, who stood up and pulled a small sheet of paper and a small pair of scissors from his pocket.
Samuel approached Daniel. “Do you mind? I won’t take much.”
“Seems like I just did this,” Daniel said with a laugh. He pointed to the left side of his head. “Take it from there, then both sides will match.”
Brother Samuel lifted a few strands of Daniel’s hair and snipped, the hair caught on the paper. He curled the paper and left the room.
Brother Benjamin explained that it wouldn’t take long to process the hair sample. They waited in silence for a minute until an orange light displayed next to one of the boxes on the profile page, still hovering in the air.
“Touch the coin again,” Benjamin said.
Daniel did, and the page refreshed. Above it hovered a lowercase letter i inside a blue circle. Next to it, an informational message.
Dr. Daniel L. Rice, instance 2 distinguished.
“Well, that was fast,” Daniel said. He glanced over the information once more. His age was reset to forty-four, and the address was now declared as unresolved. “Quite the technology you have here.”
“Your instance is distinct now. There won’t be any further confusion no matter where you go. Any questions?”
“Not about the coin technology, but I have dozens related to my mission. I’m concerned that events in my time might have already changed.” Christopher had said security would tell all. Time to test that theory.
“Temporal dislocation,” Benjamin said with authority. “You decompressed and saw it?”
“I’m not sure what I saw. I just know that things weren’t quite the same as when I left.”
Benjamin shook his head forcefully and waved a hand in the air. “Small detail. Don’t worry about it. We’ll adjust the decompression on your device to minimize the dislocation. Your return jump will be far more precise. Plus, you won’t die.”
“Happy for that.”
“Let the engineers handle it. You and I need to focus on the nuclear launch. First, confirm for me your exact anchor point date and time.”
“Well, Christopher’s team took the belt. The date’s easy. October ninth, 2023. I believe the time was right around eleven a.m., but I’d need to confirm on the controller.”
Benjamin waved a hand. “Close enough. The launch didn’t occur until October nineteenth, so you’ll have ten days when you get back to set things right.”
Good news. Ten days seemed like plenty of time to notify the right people who could take action. Griffith had been worried they might be cutting it a lot closer.
Benjamin leaned forward and spoke to the object. “Display video 2023 Aftermath from WNN archives.”
An inverted cone of light shot up from the coin, and spinning images within the cone settled into a three-dimensional video. “This is a good introduction, but we’ll share a lot more. You’ll have time to review it all at your leisure.”
A woman reporter wearing orange hazmat gear walked along a street in ruins. “University Avenue in Berkeley, California. More than six miles from ground zero, and a place where not a single MIRV warhead landed. Yet it’s leveled.”
As she walked, the camera panned, showing the shredded remains of buildings now reduced to twisted steel beams surrounded by rubble. “This used to be a thriving city of more than two hundred thousand people and home to one of the world’s major universities. Now…”
The camera zoomed in on one of the few remaining structures, a gray stone tower rising above the rubble, most of its top sheared off. “Much of the Bay Area looks the same, some areas much worse. No one has yet ventured into San Francisco itself.”
“Volume off,” Benjamin commanded. The video continued to show scenes of unbelievable destruction, but now without commentary.
“Nine million people in the San Francisco Bay Area,” Benjamin said. “Estimates were that two million vanished in just a few seconds, their bodies literally turned to ash. Millions more died in the days and weeks that followed.”
“Awful,” Daniel said, his eyes transfixed to the video. He thought of friends he had in the area. Jenny and Mark and their two kids lived in Walnut Creek, not far away. A niece was a current student at Cal, and Daniel had worked with several university scientists there. Those lives, and millions more, were at grave risk.
Get in, get out, but make sure you’ve got this right.
The camera focused on a blackened arm protruding from a pile of broken bricks. Daniel spoke in a quiet, even tone. “It’s one thing to talk about a nuclear launch, another to see what that rather sterile word really means.”
“I lost my sister there,” Brother Joseph said. “She’d just moved to Palo Alto, excited about her new job in Silicon Valley.”
Daniel’s throat tightened. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say. It feels like we’re responsible. My time, I mean.” He looked up at Benjamin. “How did it start?”
“Rogue US submarine. The commander probably went berserk, but we’ll never know for sure. His missiles hit Vladivostok in Siberia. Russia returned fire, destroying the sub. But they also took out San Francisco in retaliation.”
“Can it be stopped?” It would make the video nothing more than a shadow of things
that might be.
“We believe so. Whether stopping it helps us directly, we don’t know. We’ve made temporal changes before. Sent people to our future who returned with enough information to alter a path. It’s not hard to verify that it works. Just wait a few years, and the altered future reveals itself. But changing our future only gives us a hint that we might be able to change our past.”
“The future changes that you made… were they of this scale?”
Benjamin spoke to the olinwun. “Video off.” The images disappeared. “Sorry, but I’m not going to say any more or give you any examples of what we’ve accomplished. That’s information you don’t need to know. To tell you the truth, Dr. Rice, we’re being cautious. We’re withholding some information from you.” He leaned in closer. “For us, you could be a dangerous person.”
Daniel considered the remark. It was true; he was the only person in the room who would be returning to what they called the past, armed with information to change the future—their present. Depending on time’s true nature, he might have power over this society.
Benjamin spoke. “Download file X-five-four-dash-three from Committee Security server seven on my authority.”
A message popped into the air.
Voice recognition: Elder Benjamin Tomei. Validation success.
It was quickly replaced.
Download complete.
He motioned to Daniel to take the coin. “You now have all the information we believe you’ll need to prevent the nuclear launch. Study it. Take it to your leaders and military advisors. They’ll understand what to do, and with a ten-day lead, they’ll have plenty of time to stop it.”
“Thank you,” Daniel said, putting the olinwun back in his pocket. “I’m sure this information will help us, but I’ll be honest with you. I think I’ll need more. I’ll need credibility. I can’t just walk in and tell them to ‘do this.’ They’ll want to know about its source. They’ll want credentials and verifiable confirmation that these instructions can be trusted to solve the problem.”
“Credentials are part of the file I just downloaded.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of direct validation. For example, before I return to 2023, I should speak with my older self. Regardless of how weird that might be, it could be powerfully confirming. I’ve already asked to speak with the android, Zin, and I’ll definitely want to speak with Father, who seems to be the leader of this organization.”
Benjamin shook his head multiple times. “Too much information is not good for either of us, Dr. Rice. Time manipulation is a delicate process, and the Committee has considerable expertise. You arrived here by way of a few alien components stapled to a leather belt. We take our job a little more seriously.”
Daniel didn’t disagree with his points, but any recommendation for action, any battle plan, any intel which could affect political policy, must come with solid justification. Leaders rely not just on the recommendation, but on who gives it. “Without my personal recommendation, I can’t guarantee what they’ll do with this information.”
Benjamin nodded. “I see. Give me a minute. I may have what you need.” He walked out and returned a few minutes later. “The item I had in mind was not available on the network. I’ve resolved that.”
He set his own olinwun on the desk and touched its surface. “Display video, Daniel Rice, April second, 2053.” He turned to Daniel. “A statement you made two months ago.”
The cone of light shot up, and a video image formed. It was eerily similar to the one he’d watched alongside the FBI in the Eisenhower Building, an event that seemed like ages ago.
His own face appeared, older, but no doubt Daniel Rice.
“Yes, yes, I understand your objections,” the older version of himself said. The old man looked agitated and seemed to be speaking with someone else just off camera. “But here’s my point. You can’t do this by yourself. The Committee didn’t exist in 2023. You’ll need to trust the scientists and the leaders of the day. When my younger version arrives, you’ll need to trust him, just as I have learned to trust you. If we both take a leap of faith and believe in each other, we will be successful. And that goes for me too.” He looked into the camera. “You’re recording this, right? Daniel, if you see this, listen to them. They’re doing the right thing.”
“Close,” Benjamin said, and the video shut off. He put the olinwun away. “You heard it from yourself.”
The video seemed real enough and was hard to ignore. His voice was the same, his mannerisms. Even the indentation on the earlobe, just like the first video. This wasn’t an actor, and there was no reason to discount it as fantasy. Time travel was real enough.
But why are they withholding? Why isn’t Daniel senior sitting in the room right now?
“I’d still like the opportunity to speak at length with my older self.”
“Complicated, but I’ll take it under advisement,” Benjamin answered.
The stonewalling continued, but at least they admitted it. It’s for the best, they were saying, and they might be right. No telling what could happen if you met your future self. Like crossing the streams from your proton packs.
The briefing was clearly over when Benjamin stood and guided Daniel out. They shook hands in the reception area, and Benjamin offered, “Good luck,” and closed the door behind him. Daniel stood alone without saying a word for several seconds. Something about the video he’d just witnessed bothered him, but he couldn’t put a finger on it.
“Everything okay?” It was Sister Jacquelyn.
Daniel broke from his trance. “Yeah. I think so.”
“Get what you needed?”
He walked around to the reception desk. She looked sincere this time, not deceitfully bashful and not overtly sensual. The candor suited her.
“I hope so.” He patted the olinwun in his pocket. “Yeah, I think I have everything I need.”
“Good. But I could suggest one more item before the celebration tonight.”
“And that is?”
“Um, some modern clothes? What you’re wearing… it’s really…”
Fashion. Could anything be more absurd? To Daniel, their clothing looked ridiculous, conforming, old-fashioned. But, from their perspective, he was the oddball.
“Okay, second time I’ve heard that. I’ll see what I can do.”
Her bashful look returned, and she flashed her long lashes. “While you were talking with Brother Benjamin, I might have set an appointment.”
“For me? At the shop downstairs?”
She nodded shyly and bit the knuckle on her finger. It was a good show from a convincing actress.
Daniel rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, I’ll go.”
“Oh, good!” she squealed. “I already sent the appointment to your olinwun, and Brother Christopher said he’d be right up to take you there.”
“I see,” Daniel said, nodding. “Railroaded into modern clothes. At least I’ll have a proper pouch for the olinwun.”
“And you’ll look great. The nano-tailors are very good.”
22 Secrets
The boutique shopping area at the base of the Golden Spire wasn’t large, but it was filled with people. Nice to know that purchases in the future weren’t entirely online. The clothing store was a small boutique with only a few items of men’s and women’s clothing on racks. Most clothes, a sales clerk explained, were custom-made, including all men’s suits.
Brother Christopher sat on a nearby bench, waiting for Daniel to make his selection though it wasn’t clear why an escort was required. The shop wasn’t hard to find. Daniel’s olinwun could have no doubt directed him to it.
The chatty sales clerk flipped through the available styles by swiping her hand through the air while suits of various colors were projected onto Daniel’s image in a full-length mirror.
“Oh, I like this one,” she said, hands on hips and studying the mirror. As Daniel shifted to the side, the projected suit shifted with him.
From Daniel’
s point of view, every suit looked pretty much the same. But he accepted the clerk’s advice and she completed the transaction by passing a wand over Daniel’s olinwun. The words Payment transferred appeared above it.
“Okay, let’s get some measurements,” she said, guiding him to a back room and drawing a curtain across the doorway. She reached for another wand hanging on a hook and proceeded to wave it across his body like a handheld metal detector.
“Just curious,” Daniel said as she measured his legs, “where do they keep all the women over thirty around here?” She was young, probably late twenties. He hadn’t seen any females much older.
“You must be Canadian,” she answered, running the wand around his ankles.
Once noticed, the uniformity among women was glaring. Every receptionist at each floor in the building, the women at the impromptu party, now the sales clerk—all the same. Young, twenties to mid-thirties. But not a single older woman.
The conformity didn’t stop with age. He’d noticed a strong similarity in appearance. Clear skin, understated makeup, no tattoos, no piercings. Chloe would have hated the future.
“No, I’m American, just not from around here.” She clearly didn’t know who he was, a relief in a way. Maybe his time travel stardom didn’t extend beyond the Committee offices.
“Then you should know. Six months and done.” She stood up straight and patted a slight bulge on her belly. “I’m taking child leave myself in a couple of months.”
“Congratulations. Your first?”
Her eyebrows pinched down. “You really aren’t from around here, are you?”
Daniel shrugged, curious. “No. What did I miss?”
Her voice softened. “We only work until our first child. That’s the law.”
“Wait. This shop won’t hold your job open while you’re on maternity leave?” A guaranteed job after childbirth was widespread policy around the world in Daniel’s time, even in America, a notorious laggard in modern business practices. Had they really gone backwards?
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