by Ellen Larson
In the old days before the war, the antechamber of the VCC had housed the Museum of Retrospection, with artifacts from the Artifice that had housed the First Continuum (kindled in ancient Canada some twelve hundred years before and extinguished during the Annihilation) and a history of retrospectoscopy. The museum was gone, destroyed when the Rasakan army had blown up the front part of the building as their preferred means of entry, and the space it had once occupied taken up by a honeycomb of office cubicles.
Beyond the second security check the layout was more familiar: a long central hallway with labs on the left and operations rooms on the right. In a large alcove halfway down the hall was the elevator to the basement, also guarded by Authority sentries. Merit passed by without a glance. Fifty feet below, in a single immense chamber, rested the catenary Artifice, a honeycombed egg floating in a pool of mercury. It had floated there for over a hundred years, though it was no longer possible to travel back that far. Authority, after gaining possession of the VCC seven years before, had taken the precaution of shutting down the Artifice, thus ending the Second Continuum. And it had only been six months since they had kindled the Third Continuum. Thus six months back in time was the current limit of any flex.
The door on the right led to main ops. Molt and Sarah would be in there, checking and rechecking the systems, but Merit passed by that door too. Not until she reached the last room on the left did she slow and stop.
Miraculously, the medlab was exactly as she remembered: white walls, padded green couch beneath the bioscanner, stainless-steel cabinets, pristine workstation. Only the man sitting at the console was different.
He glanced up. His expression was tired and heavily guarded, and so very in control.
“Please remove your jacket and take a seat.” He looked at her with an appraising eye. “How long since you’ve had your attunement checked?”
Looking around for his shield, she spotted it next to his briefcase on the table. She wished he had not taken it off, for quite simply it pained her to look upon him, because he reminded her of her past, of all that had once been, and all that had been lost. Sadness overwhelmed her, dissolving the anger and hate that were the steel rods within the barricades that had long protected her fragile psyche. And in the face of her almighty confusion, the temptation arose to give in, to tell him how lost she was, to ignore reality and beg for his help. Terrified, she resisted that temptation the only way she knew how.
“Let’s see.” She strolled over to the supply cabinets, careful to keep her back to him till she found the strength to reassume her mask of indifference. “It was just before Authority gassed the VCC—a little over seven years ago? Ask me what we were doing.”
Silence.
“What were you doing?” she asked in a gruff baritone. “Why, trying to go back in time to stop the invasion,” she continued in her normal voice. “Trying to change past history. We tried everything. Isochronic flexion, Gellar’s function, all the favorite tricks from the Best of Eric Torre. We failed—proving you wrong once and for all.”
“That’s not proof.”
“We tried real hard.” Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him. “Of course, if Lena is right, and there is only one true Continuum, and the Artifice is unnecessary, we could try again. Want to give it a shot?”
“Not right now. I have to update your biometrics for the security net. Will you please take your jacket off and have a seat?”
She took her jacket off and handed it to him as if to a butler. “They used to play music. Guess the sound system is buggy. I’ll get Donny to take a look at it.” She flopped onto the couch. “Later.”
He swung the lens of the scanner over her face, bringing the stabilizer to rest on her forehead. “I can only do this if you don’t move.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
He resumed his seat at the console. “And for the love of all Saints, shut up.”
She complied without regret. The banter may have protected her, but she heard it now for what it was: harsh to the ear, crass and abusive. Let the world in, Gabriel Castor had told her. But she could not do it. Not now. Not ever. Not Eric. She could not risk it. It would drive her into a blackness from which she would never escape if he were to betray her again. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The lens apparatus hummed and whirred as it moved slowly over her body.
Twenty minutes later, the noise ceased. She heard Eric rise from his chair and the sound of the scanner retracting. “Are you awake?”
“Unfortunately.” She opened her eyes. “Am I allowed to talk now?”
“Yes. In fact, I insist on it.” He held out a hand, in which lay her pillbox. “You can start by telling me how long you’ve been taking these.”
Her head jerked left, then right, searching for her jacket.
“Merit? Did you hear me? How long have you been doping?”
She flashed him an angry look. “I do a lot of things, comrade, but that’s not one of them.”
“Excuse me? I’m holding them in my hand!” He fished out a small yellow pill. “These are amphetamines.”
“So? I take them for a medical reason.”
“For what?”
“To keep me going! Have to. Psychotherapist’s had me on perdacor for a year.”
“What the—Are you kidding me? Perdacor’s an antipsychotic! It’s got ketamine in it!”
“You don’t believe me? You’ve got my medical files right there in all their disgusting glory.” She waved at the console. “Go ahead and check.”
“This is absurd! The side effects of continuous use of perdacor can be severe—fatigue, anxiety, even hallucination!”
“Can we—”? She stuck out her chin, then looked him square in the face. “Okay. I’ll explain. Then you can do me a favor and forget about it. See, I have to take the perdacor. I’ve got no choice, ’cause they check. But between you and me, I take it as infrequently as possible.”
There was a silence. Then: “They’re messing with your head.”
She gave a burst of laughter. “Yeah, rehabilitation’s a bitch.”
“Merit.”
She shifted in the chair. “Can we just drop it? I appreciate your concern—sort of—but there’s nothing you can do. Anyway, the stims keep the side effects under control.”
He stared at the pillbox. “How long have you been taking these?”
She leaned an elbow on the arm of the chair and placed her fingers on her forehead. “Okay, look. I’ve asked you nicely. Now I’m telling you, this is none of your business.”
“Merit, you can’t mix drugs like this.”
She slammed her fists on the soft leather. “What the hell do you want me to do? If I don’t take the perdacor, they say I’m resisting my rehabilitation. So I take it! When I start having conversations with inanimate objects, I take the stims to shut them up. Yeah, the combination makes it hard to sleep, and I get a little jazzed, but look at the alternative! I’m not pretty when I start to drool.” She grimaced, then stared him down. “Come on! Leave me a scrap of dignity!”
“But you’re not considering the combined effect. You—” He stopped abruptly, his eyelids fluttering. A look came to his face she had never seen before. Stern. Focused. “Okay. You’re right. We can discuss this later. After—Fine. I didn’t realize.” He closed the pillbox. “But I don’t want you taking any more drugs between now and the flex. Not the perdacor and not the stims. It’s too dangerous.” He put the pillbox in his pocket.
“Why? It won’t affect my biomets.”
“No, but it could affect your vitals. If you’re in the Continuum long enough you could go into chronomatic syncope.”
“I’ll only be gone an hour. That’s nothing.”
“You’ve got to have control over your body while you’re in the Continuum. What if you’re so jazzed you can’t keep your heart rate down?”
“It’s not gonna be a problem. I know how to meditate—”
“Merit! Please. This i
s a minimal precaution.” Behind him, the console beeped. He ran a hand through his hair. His tired eyes were dark and troubled. “We’re running out of time. I’ve got to finish the fine-attunement. Lie back. It’ll only take half an hour. Just—try to rest.” He sat again at the console.
Merit stared at the back of his head, at his broad shoulders, at his hands moving over the keypad. She closed her eyes. Damn him. Why had he come? Now, of all times. Eric, of all people. To see what she had become; to dig into her pathetic life and uncover her ugly little secrets. She had fought so hard to keep him out, to keep him away, and yet she had failed. She had seen it in his eyes: unwelcome surprise, disapproval, pity. Her throat tightened as she felt the shadow rising from the back of her mind to smother her soul.
Reaching into her breast pocket, she fished out the two little yellow pills she found there. She rolled them in her finger a moment, then put them both in her mouth.
“We’re done here,” said Eric. “Your attunement has held up well. You’ll have no problem with a short flex like this.” He gazed at the monitor and tapped at the keypad. “I’ve uploaded your biomets. It’s a good thing we redid them. They’ve changed significantly from your last flex.”
“Told you I’d changed.” Thanks to the double dose of stims, she was alert, ready for action. Eager for it. She sat up and glanced around the room. Her gaze alighted on the silver briefcase, lying open on the table beside the console.
Eric sat in front of the monitor, his fingers racing over the keypad. “You can get up, now. Light meal tonight, nothing after ten. Nothing in the morning, and—Well. Why am I telling you? You know the drill.”
She hopped out of the chair and approached the console. “I used to know, but it’s been so long I forget.” She put her hands on the back of his chair. “Am I allowed to get wriggly?” She whispered in his ear. “ ’Cause I’ve got this friend, and he’s very hot. I think you met him.”
“You’re wasting your breath. I’m not playing.”
“Why not?” She pushed away from the chair and went to retrieve her jacket.
“Because I don’t have the time or the taste for it.” His face was calm, his focus still on his work. “When you’re ready to talk seriously, let me know.”
“I’m ready!” She leaned against the table and snuck a glance into his briefcase. Lena’s pink hankie was partially visible beneath a small book with a ragged green and white cover. A Resistance codebook. “What do you want to talk about? Politics? Metaphysics? Temporal physics?” Pushing his shield to one side, she hiked herself up on the table next to the briefcase and sat there, swinging her legs.
“All three.” He switched off the console. “But I’ll wait till the woman I knew shows up.”
“Sorry. This is all they left on the shelf.”
He tossed a couple of data cards into the briefcase and closed it. “I don’t believe you.”
She tightened her lips. “You always took a lot of convincing. But hey! I bet you have a theory. You’re the theory man. What is it? C’mon! Tell me!”
“Okay.” He turned and looked into her eyes. “You’re hiding.”
She picked up the shield and held it between their faces. “Hypocrite.”
He closed his hand around her wrist and pulled it down. “I’m not hiding from you. I’ll let you in if you let me in.”
“Sounds kinky.” She snatched her hand away and slipped the shield on. “Ooh! Pretty orange!” Tilting her head back, she looked at the ceiling pods. “UV protection?”
“You’re higher than a kite!”
She hopped off the desk and juked across the room, knees bent, fists close to her chin. “I’m a special agent of the Authority! See my spook patch? Oops, we spooks don’t wear a patch. Don’t wantcha to know us! But we’re everywhere. We come in all colors. Okay. See my shield?” She whipped the plasma gun out of her shoulder holster and pointed it at him. “Halt in the name of the CPF, uh, I mean the JCP!”
“Hey! Watch it!”
She laughed at him. “Dummy bolts, remember? ’Cause you can’t trust me with a loaded gun. I might pop a Ratsky just for fun. Yep, I might.” Merit danced around the room. “Open up! Authority Agent!”
Eric strode to her side and grabbed her arm, forcing it down. “Stop it. They’ll hear!”
She tried to pull away from him and failed. She glared at him, wanting him to see the contempt in her eyes—till she remembered that he could not see her face.
“Get your hands off me.” She took a left-handed swing at his nose.
He leaned back to avoid the blow and pulled her into a bear hug. She tried to kick his shins, but he was too fast and strong for her. Too big. He lifted her bodily and planted her in a chair.
“I hate you,” she said.
He backed off, staring at her. “To hell with the flex. We settle this now. You’re not leaving till you tell me what’s going on.”
She sat, slumped in the chair, her arm throbbing where he had gripped her too hard. “You couldn’t begin to understand.”
“You think you’ve betrayed your training and your state by working with the Rasakans, and it’s killing you. You’re terrified to do this flex. You’ve given up, and—”
“Hey!” Her chin rose. “I don’t give up! I never gave up! Leave me alone!” She turned sideways in the chair. “You got no right to judge me, just ’cause you got laid a few times.”
“You believe you’re alone,” he hammered on. “But you’re not. I’m here. I need you. Your—”
“Well, too bad, ’cause I’m not exactly pining for you.”
“Your crew needs you. There are people out there who think like you. They need you. We all need you. You! Not this pathetic jokester you’re pretending to be. We need your ideals, your wits, your commitment.”
His words entered her mind like daggers. Safe behind the shield, she closed her eyes and grimaced.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “I need you to fight back.”
“Where’s the woman who believed in the rule of law, who would rather die than break faith with her principles—”
“Shut up.” She turned and pointed the gun at his head.
His eyes blazed so bright she wondered they did not burn through the shield that masked her face.
“You surprised me yesterday,” he said, suddenly very quiet. “I wasn’t prepared. I was hurt. I didn’t understand why you acted the way you did. But I’m beginning to get the picture. Merit. You can trust me. You don’t have to be afraid. The woman I knew—the woman who knew me—wasn’t afraid of anything.”
“That woman was a fool, and she got dead. You don’t know me; me!” She stood and pounded her chest with her clenched fist. “I’m a patriot, a fighter! I gave my life to my state, to my comrades—only . . . only nobody would take it.” Her hand fell as the words echoed in her pounding head. “Every day I die a little more, but it’s never enough, and I can’t do a fucking thing about it.”
“Yes you can. If you let me help.” His voice. His haunting voice.
Her eyes blinked uncontrollably. “You are my enemy.”
“I’m not. Merit. When you came looking for me—”
“I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“Yes you should. Because it lets me explain. Merit, what you think you know about me, about how I ended up in the Rasakan army—it’s not true. I didn’t join anything. Martial law was declared in Bergama two days after you left. Everyone between seventeen and forty was conscripted. The researchers at the university were gathered up on the first day—they knew we’d worked with the Oku and they didn’t trust us as far as they could throw us. Anyone who fought conscription was imprisoned and sent to a labor camp.”
“You could have gone underground. You could have resisted.”
His gaze searched her shield in a fruitless attempt to reach her eyes, then fell in defeat. “You’re right. And I wish I’d had the courage to do it. But I didn’t. Not then. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t hate every minute of it, and
hate myself—despise myself—for what I was doing. And for what? In the end, I lost my world—maybe not as violently as you lost yours, but it’s gone just the same. Is that so hard to understand?”
She frowned at the floor, heart pounding. “Maybe not,” she said grudgingly. “Maybe I could have understood—pretended you’d been swept up by the war; that someday I might see you again, and we might—” She turned the shield to his face. “But then you turned up—wearing that!” She pointed accusingly at his gray and black uniform. “And I can’t even pretend anymore. Because joining Authority was a choice.”
“It’s just a uniform,” he said. “Open your eyes and look past it. I had my reasons. Give me the benefit of the doubt. You owe me that.”
“I can’t.” Her eyes focused on the faint orange glow of the shield, and the room seemed to fade away. “I want to, but I can’t.”
The old generosity, darkened by age and experience of war, but still so distinctly Eric, spread over his face. “Why not?”
She shook her head slowly back and forth, not looking at him.
“Merit, what’s happened? Tell me.”
She continued to shake her head. “I can’t trust you,” she whispered. “Can’t do it.”
“Yes you can. And I’ll prove it.”
There was a ringing in her ears. The effects of the stims were fading; she was plunging down a slope made all the steeper by the overdose, into the gloomy rebound. She gripped the back of the chair. “You can’t prove anything. You never could.”
“I can. Merit.” His voice shook. “Don’t you see? I looked for you too.”
Her heart leaped; her sight regained its focus. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” His blue eyes brightened, and he continued in a steadier voice. “It just took me a lot longer than you to get started. I didn’t have your confidence, your courage. And I didn’t have the opportunity. Not until Byzantion. Listen. A few months after the armistice, Authority started recruiting people with a scientific background. I took my chance and spoke to my commander. They found me fast. I agreed to join Authority, because I knew I’d have intelligence access. It was risky, but by that time I didn’t care about myself. I’ll tell you more about that someday. For now, all you need to know is that I accepted Authority’s offer. I moved up the ranks fast, and got top-level clearance. I got my hands on the Resistance files. I knew you’d be with them if you were alive. I searched for weeks, trying to find you. Then one day, I spotted your scan. You’d been captured along with the last major Resistance cell. Authority had no idea who you really were—they had just a codename, Sparrow, and the scan. I barely got word to the tribunal in time.”