A Chronetic Memory (The Chronography Records Book 1) (8 page)

The room fell silent. Dani felt sick. The kids were right, and she realized she had buried thoughts like these far too long. They had hit on a piece of the truth from outside, but only an insider would have a chance to find out the rest. It suddenly hit her that she might be the only one in the institute willing to dig deeper.

“I think I need to do some research, and not the chronographic kind,” she said. “When would you all like to meet again?”

“Actually,” said Ms. Harris, “this group meets regularly on Saturdays, with me as their adviser. Ronny is the president. I think, under the circumstances, you would be welcome to join us. What do the rest of you think?”

As Dani looked around for their response, she saw eight heads nodding. Ronny, in particular, was enthusiastically in favor. He stood and stuck out his hand to her. “Welcome to the West Seattle High Political Action Club. See you at ten o’clock Saturday morning?”

Dani shook his hand. “I’ll be there.”

SEEBAK LABORATORY, Vashon Island, WA. 1700, Tuesday, June 6, 2215.

“Doc? Doc! Your machine is buzzing,” Lexil called, as he emerged from an observation room to the main work area. Dr. Seebak, though, was nowhere in sight. The younger scientist turned off the buzzer and checked the machine to be sure it wasn’t signaling anything urgent.

Well. It was five o’clock. Maybe the doctor had decided to observe a normal quitting time for once. Lexil decided to check inside the house. He walked across the wooded pathway to the home they had both shared since Lex had lost his parents as a teenager and Doc had been named guardian.

Oh—what was this? An unfamiliar helicar on the parking pad. The number of people who knew where to find them were so few he could put them all in a four-seater helicar and still have room for the driver.

He entered the house cautiously and found Doc with a visitor in the main living room. His caution became delight. “Marielle!”

She turned at his voice, and the look of distress he glimpsed on her face turned quickly into a smile. She stood to give him a hug. He covered the distance between them in three long steps.

“Lex! You’ve grown even more since I saw you last. What are you, 190 centimeters by now?”

“No, not even close. Only 186.” She was almost unchanged from the last time he saw her. Almost. “Your hair’s longer.”

She tucked a wayward curl of dark hair behind her ear. “Yes. I don’t really get out much, so I’ve let it grow.”

“It looks really nice.
You
look really nice.” He had missed her. Back when his mom and dad had dinner parties, she was one of his favorites. He had actually had a little bit of a crush on her, even though she she was older. In her mid-thirties now, she was every bit as striking.

“So, Lex. Let me look at you. How long has it been?” She stood back to get the full effect and nodded approvingly.

“Four years? I think I was twenty-one. We were celebrating something.”

She laughed. “You make it sound like it was nothing. That was your first degree, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but in a sense, it really wasn’t anything big. I was working in the lab here before the degree and just went on doing more of the same after I got it.”

Dr. Seebak agreed. “The degree was just a formality. He’d been doing groundbreaking research for years before that.”

Lexil pulled a chair over to join them, but before he sat down, he hesitated. “Am I interrupting anything? You two looked pretty serious when I came in. If you need to talk privately, just say so.”

He waited while they exchanged looks. It would be Marielle’s decision, ultimately. Finally, she nodded. “It might be useful to have your perspective. We are both used to thinking in terms of what we’re allowed to do and what we’re not allowed to do.”

And that simply wasn’t right. He stuffed down the angry feelings out of habit. These two were brilliant, and they should have free reign in deciding what to study and what to publish. But there were patents, and there were copyright laws, and he knew there had been some arrangement, years earlier, before he was old enough to contribute an opinion, that curtailed some of their research.

He sat down. “I’ll be happy to help, if I can.”

Doc started. “Marielle was telling me that she has become aware of some intrusive practices by the board members at the institute.”

“Aware of them!” Marielle exclaimed. “Try: subjected to them!”

Lexil could feel himself getting angry again. He didn’t like seeing people he loved being victimized, no matter how they felt about it. “What are they doing to you?” he asked, prepared to leap to her defense, however ineffective that action might be.

“I’ve been told not to interact with any of the fellows or interns. My work must be restricted to fine-tuning existing technology, with no original research permitted. I’m watched all the time at the institute. I wouldn’t be surprised if I were watched when I’m not there as well.”

“How can you let them do that to you?”

She locked eyes for a second with Doc. “Well, I’m being blackmailed, essentially.”

“What do they have on you that would make you so afraid of them?” Lex was incensed. Then he realized how personal that question might be. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”

“It’s okay. Some of it I’m not really comfortable sharing, but I’ll tell you, in general, what they have. You remember that I used to be have a problem with substance abuse? You were a young teen back then.”

“I heard about it, but I can’t remember ever seeing you that way.”

“One evening, I was involved in something. Making it public would have destroyed my career and ruined relationships. I could have dealt with the personal aspects of it, but the field of chronography would have suffered lasting harm.” She spoke frankly, but he could see that it still hurt her to remember.

“Is that what you’ve been worrying about all these years?” Doc exclaimed. “The field of chronography has become no better than a mill, churning out data. Other than what we are doing here, all the great intellects have been buried in tedium. Not just you, either, Marielle. I haven’t seen anything from Calegari or Tasman for years.”

“Unless they are making breakthroughs that aren’t being published?” Lex offered. “Have you seen anything there?”

“No, and I would know. The three of us work really closely together. Nikoli—that’s Dr. Calegari—has come up with some equations recently, but they are far from final form, and he has no equipment to adequately test them.”

“So why worry about it? Come clean. Get out from under their influence.”

“Ah, Lex.” She looked at him fondly. “What I wouldn’t give to have some of your youthful sense of invulnerability. I’m glad you grew up here. You’ve had so much freedom in your research.”

“We all would benefit from that,” Doc interjected.

“You made the right decision, Mitch. I should have bowed out and worked with you. You are still learning, still forging new ground, while I struggle to endure tedium.”

“It is no picnic, though. I can’t publish anything. The journals will have nothing to do with me.”

“Will Lexil be able to publish?”

“He might. We haven’t tried. His name has never been overtly associated with mine, but it can’t be associated with anyone else’s either, so he might not get the attention he deserves.”

“My name’s not my own, or I’d gladly lend it.”

“I know.” Doc patted her hand. “You have enough to worry about.”

“I feel better, knowing that you know what is going on,” Marielle said. “I worry about all of us going down in flames and nobody having any clue. But enough about me. What have you two been working on?”

“We’ve continued developing the sensors. We’re still getting readings from the old machines that we started back at the turn of the century, when you were still a grad student.” Doc was going to start reminiscing. Lexil could tell by his expression.

“Before chronography,” she said.

“Yes, but chronography wouldn’t have happened without them! And now they, and their brothers and cousins, are forming the basis for entirely new discoveries. Tell her, Lexil.”

“We’ve been able to put equations to all the time disturbances. We can distinguish now between the random ones and the deliberate ones. Most of the deliberate ones are accompanied by peripheral events that generate their own effects.”

“The timestream ripples.” Marielle nodded. “I remember those. But these deliberate time disturbances—have you been able to trace their source?”

“Almost one hundred percent of them come from the institute,” Doc contributed. “We really need someone on the inside, so we can compare our findings with what’s happening over there.”

“I can’t,” she apologized. “All my incoming and outgoing communications are tightly monitored. And I dare not try to contact someone else in there, someone less noticeable, because the person I choose would have a high likelihood of reporting our conversation.”

“We understand,” said Doc. “We’re not asking you to. It would just help us a lot to have that contact.”

“Ideally, we’d want someone in the lab, anyway,” said Lexil. “Right down there in the middle of the action.”

“There really isn’t much action there now. You’d be disappointed, Mitch, at what it has become. The interns are doing busy work, more than anything. Not like your work here.”

Lexil nodded. “Just this morning, I was showing Doc the results of my new equations. We’ve discovered—”

“You’ve discovered.” Doc corrected him. “Credit where credit is due, boy.”

“Well, then, stop calling me ‘boy,’” Lexil countered with a feigned look of injury. “I’ve discovered distinct indicators of a third force, beyond the initial disturbance with its peripheral blips, and beyond the natural damping force, that appears to come in and clean up after the event. It repairs the damage caused by the blips.”

She sat up and leaned toward him. “It can repair blips?” She sounded like she couldn’t quite believe that.

“Not only can, but does repair them. And Doc found evidence that it has been happening for thousands of years.”

She whistled. “Maybe I should just give them my notice and come work for you.”

Lexil wanted to say, “Yes! Do it!” but Doc spoke first.

“You’d be welcome, of course, and your contribution would be invaluable. But I’m afraid attention would follow you over. We’ve been able to operate relatively free from interference here. Also, I think you may be the only one left there that has any kind of conscience.”

“For the little good it does.”

“Someday it might,” Doc encouraged her. “How was it that you were able to come see us today?”

“My mother has been ill. I spent the day with her, down in Central Oregon, then flew back here a little faster than I should have to make time to stop and see you. My helicar needed a tune up anyway, so I used the excuse to rent one. I suspect they have a tracker on mine, but I picked up the rental just before I left.”

“Are they going to those lengths now?” Doc frowned.

“I don’t know. Maybe not. But I didn’t want to risk focusing any of their attention on you.”

“That was good of you.”

“I try.” A quick upward glance activated the clock on her eyescreen. “It’s late. I need to get back to town before they figure out that I’ve strayed off my itinerary.”

The other two stood and took turns giving her hugs. “You’re welcome any time,” said Doc, when they got to the door.

“I’ve never doubted that,” she said with a grateful smile, and stepped out onto the porch.

“We need to keep in touch more,” Lexil stopped her, with a hand on her arm. “Especially if you’re being blackmailed and controlled like this. You have to have an exit route if things get rough.”

“I can’t call. I know they monitor that.”

“Is there anyone at the institute that you trust that has more freedom to move about after work?” Doc asked.

“No. The only people they let me contact on a regular basis are Calegari and Tasman, and I think they are more likely to report on me than carry a message for me.”

Lexil made a frustrated sound. Marielle didn’t deserve this, no matter what she had done. “If it gets really bad, don’t worry about us. You just come. Promise?”

“I promise,” she said, giving his hand an affectionate squeeze, then headed out to the rental helicar. She waved through the window as her car lifted upward.

“So,” said Doc, turning to Lexil. “What sounds good for dinner?”

WALLACE HOME, Lower Queen Anne, Seattle, WA. 1800, Tuesday, June 6, 2215.

Dani paused at the edge of the slidewalk to let the irisscan identify her. She juggled her folders of activities for Jored, none of which she had used at the high school. She’d almost forgotten to bring the chocolate; good thing there was a vendor’s stall in the transfer tube station. She was sure Kat would like the truffles she had picked out.

This was the home of her three closest friends, but she felt like a stranger meeting them for the first time. They hadn’t changed a bit, she realized. She was the one who had changed. All her careless words that had dismissed Kat’s concerns echoed accusingly in her head, but it felt like they had been spoken by someone else entirely. How could she have been so blind? How could she have been so duped?