Tides of the Continuum 1: Making History

Tides of the Continuum

Making History

By Keegan Hennis

Image for cover art is courtesy of NASA. NASA images in the public domain are not copyrighted. Story content is © 2010. All rights reserved by the author.

Special thanks to my editor:

Lisa Armstrong

My sweet wife supports me,

My smart son and daughter inspire me,

On to excellence.

This book is part of a series, written in chronological order. Pick them up out of order and you may become confused or frustrated by the story.

Tides of the Continuum Series

Making History

Living History

Fighting History

Facing History

Burning History

Leaving History

Avoiding History

Repairing History

Rebuilding History

Protecting History

Wandering History

Ending History

Resurrecting History

Preventing History

Losing History

Revealing History

Waking History

Preparing History

Scattering History

Gathering History

There are many other series’ and single books by Keegan Hennis.

1

Back to square one. Lincoln marked another potential as rejected. These days, it was getting progressively harder to recruit volunteers. Paul, another recruiter, thought the time of year might have something to do with their losing streak.

Lincoln looked at his watch and grimaced. The date was September 22 and his time was running out. Lincoln felt a sense of urgency as he looked at his schedule. He would have to cut some corners, make some leaps and guesses, but he felt he could still get one more volunteer by the end of the week.

Lincoln put his planner back into his satchel and closed it. He gently tugged at the strap. It was heavy. He had over-scheduled himself, again. Too many classes meant not enough time to relax, but then again, Lincoln wasn't the usual college student. He hefted the small bag over his shoulder and stood up.

A cold breeze was blowing out of the north giving Lincoln a shiver. If he was a superstitious man he might think somethi
ng bad was going to happen soon but it was only the wind.

Lincoln was enrolled in the engineering program at Liberty Falls Community College, in Liberty Falls, Idaho. His enrollment was part of a deal he had made with admissions.

In order for any one of the recruiting staff to be on campus for any length of time, mingling with the students, following them to classes, and in some instances visiting their homes, the recruiting staff must be enrolled in college courses. In exchange, the teaching staff agreed to maintain the secret identity of the recruiters.

It was Lincoln's turn to be the recruiter. He still had one more name on his list of potentials
, and she just happened to be in a meeting with the Dean of Engineering. One of her professors had filed a complaint, again. Lincoln checked over the student records, searching for the flags that would disqualify the file. He didn't find them. The student matched the preferred profile: little or no family, intelligent and open-minded. That last one was a must. The potential was a ward of the state, an orphan who had never been adopted. She was on a full-ride scholarship. There was a note that said she was a quick learner. She was 22 years old, had an ACT score of 33 and a perfect score on her SAT; not unheard of, but rare.

One teacher said she wa
s “a pleasure to have in class”. She just didn't like to admit she was wrong if she knew she wasn’t. She had confidence, another must in his line of work.

He closed the file and took a deep breath. The time had come when he had to meet her. He started up the stairs to the administr
ation building of LFCC. Usually the building was bustling with students and staff, but it was an hour after the last of the daytime classes, and the building was silent.

Lincoln walked down the empty white halls. The walls were barren except for the occasional corkboard covered with layers of jumbled advertisements. The corridors reminded him of a hospital or laboratory with a colorful twist. He stopped when he came to the Dean’s office.

Dr. Susan DeMarco

Dean

College of Engineering

He knew that
on the other side of that door there was a conversation nearing its end dealing with “furthering her employability”.

Lincoln sat down on a chair opposite the office door and planned to wait. He set his heavy bag on the floor; it contained too many books. He hated over scheduling himself, but he needed to be in contact with as many people as possible. He sighed. At least the weight was off his shoulders now and on the floor. He tried to get as comfortable as possible in the small metal chair, thinking he'd be there a while.

He pulled a sheet of white paper from his notebook. It had several creases on it showing how it had been folded and roughly refolded in the preceding days. The words were not uncommon, but the message evoked an emotional response in his hand. Lincoln crushed the page and threw it toward the opposite wall of the hall. Were it anything heavier than a sheet of paper, it would probably have caused some damage to the plaster. But it was just paper, and as such, it didn’t even make it to the wall before it hit the floor. The overall message of the note told him that of the few other recruiters in his employ that had just finished their lists, not one had been able to find a single volunteer. Lincoln’s luck had been better, but not by much. They wouldn’t meet their goals, which was frustrating to say the least. But with the impending meeting, Lincoln hoped to gain at least one more volunteer. He settled into his seat to wait.

Much to his surprise the office door opened revealing a tall, stern woman with a tight ponytail full of coarse black hair.

The second figure to exit the office was his potential, but he was rather surprised by the shape that met his eyes. He was expecting to see some short, homely, brainy young woman with glasses and a retainer. What he saw was completely different. She was easily six-feet tall, well toned, but not too thin; she had straight teeth, no retainer. And to top it all off, the short black hair he was expecting was replaced with long red hair, kept in a braid.

Quietly Lincoln waited for the last lingering threads of lecture to be done. “This is it,” Lincoln thought, “the easiest part of the screening: the meeting.” Dr. DeMarco finished up with Aurora and turned her stare on Lincoln. Her icy gaze was like those freeze-rays he'd seen in the movies. Dr. DeMarco didn't approve of Lincoln being in her college. Lincoln didn't care.

“And this young man...” Dr. DeMarco choked on the words, “has been chosen to be your Peer Advisor. He will help you with your attitude and give you hints where you need them. And he will be reporting directly to me.”

Aurora looked Lincoln up and down with a doubtful glare, “Whatever,” was all she said.

Dr. DeMarco walked back into her office and slammed the door. The echo carried down the hall for what seemed like an eternity, causing both Lincoln and Aurora to feel the well-known discomfort the administration building afforded.

It was Lincoln, who first broke the silence. “You want to get a burger? I'm starved.” This seemed to ease the tension slightly.

Aurora looked up at the wall clock, it said a quarter-to-six; she turned to Lincoln and said, “All right, you're paying.”

“Fine by me. Where do you want to go?”

“How about the Den?” she asked as her eyes narrowed, “I hear the new Super-jumbo is killer.” She seemed to be testing his metal, doing her own analysis. Lincoln could play her game.

“Sounds fun. And
don't worry about Dr. DeMarco. She's more bark than she is bite.” He was trying to smooth things out and help her think he was really just another student. It seemed to be doing just that. She had calmed down a little.

“So let me get this straight. If I step out of line for a second, you'll report me to the old bag and I'll have to repeat the Final Project. Am I right?” She was checking his loyalty to the college.

The Final Project was a semester-long course with only one assignment. The class had to work as a team in order to finish successfully. The divisions of labor and leadership assignments provided no challenge, but the projects themselves had a reputation of being extremely complicated.

The two walked down the stairs toward the door. Outside was the grassy quad, and on the other side of that was the Den, a small on-campus cafe.

“Well, not quite,” Lincoln said hesitantly, “it's a little more complicated than that.”

“It's like baseball, right? Three strikes, I'm out?” Her sarcasm was getting to him.

“You're comparing this to baseball, when football is more similar. Different things you do are worth different points...”

“And what happens when I reach the max amount of points?” The door slammed as they left the administration building.

“Well, depending on what you do, the consequences could be as simple as a verbal warning or more counseling sessions, up to but not excluding forcing you to repeat your Final Project.”

Aurora stopped walking. They were about two-thirds of the way across the quad when he said his last word. He looked at her trying to read her face. She didn't like being threatened, especially not from this know-it-all teacher's pet. It was like one tree holding an axe to another.

Lincoln knew he needed to ease up a little bit. “But don't worry,” he continued, “I'm as easy going as they get. I've even been known to crack a smile or two when the old bag isn't looking.” He gave her a pat on the shoulder. “This'll be fun; relax, all we have to do is convince Dr. DeMarco that you're ready to work with a team on the Project, and that degree is as good as yours.”

That did it. Lincoln was just another student again. She could trust him because he was one of her kind
, and he knew what it was like to struggle. And Aurora had to admit that Lincoln had personality.

2

The alarm came too early for him. Lincoln slapped the top of his clock several times rather unceremoniously trying to silence the overly annoying chirp. It worked well on the fifth slap as he finally hit the snooze button. It seemed no sooner had he become again fully relaxed than it broke its silence again. A quick glance at the face of the clock told him that he had nearly run out of time. He had but precious few minutes left to shower, shave, and then sprint toward the Clark building. He had a class concerning psychology, or psychiatry; he always mixed up the two titles.

Though he no longer had a potential recruit in that class, he still had to attend it to fulfill the agreement with the school. He took comfort in the loophole that he had found that there were actually no requirements to do well in that class, so he used it as time for other purposes.

One hour later he walked out of the lecture hall more hungry than tired, but not by much. Why did the more educated professors speak with such tones as would put elephants into comas? He walked casually toward one of the science buildings and noticed his new friend sitting alone amongst a rock garden working from a thick book. He changed his course and snuck silently up behind her. He double-checked to ensure his shadow wouldn’t give away his presence. He stepped so softly that not even he heard it, but not four feet from Aurora, she spoke to him.

“Something I can do for you, Mr. Smyth?”

Slightly crest fallen Lincoln stepped around the boulders and made a seat for himself near her on the recently mowed lawn. “Nope. I’m fine,” he said as he set his satchel down on the ground next to him.

“That’s good, because I wasn’t really offering any services. I was just letting you know that I knew you were there.”

Lincoln leaned back against another rock, but quickly leaned forward again as he had somehow found a sharp outcropping on the stone with his spine. He moved a few inches to his left, farther from her, and leaned back against the smooth, cold surface.

Aurora continued to work from a book, writing notes on a legal tablet that she balanced on her other leg, until all at once she slammed the textbook closed, using the tablet as a bookmark, and slipped it gracefully into her own book bag. She spoke with such authority and independence that Lincoln found himself agreeing to her order. “Take me to lunch.”

She stood and was perhaps twenty feet from him when Lincoln had made it to his feet, but he soon caught up with her. “Where do you want to go?”

“I want to eat something with some style to it. Beyond that, you pick.”

Lincoln’s mind raced trying to remember the names and locations of some of the restaurants in the area. As if reading his mind about its location, Aurora walked right to Lincoln’s car and waited beside the passenger door. He stepped up quickly, unlocked it and then opened it for her. As she stepped into the car, she said under her breath, “Next time, just unlock it.”

Lincoln ran around the front of the car toward his own door. By the time he reached it, she had leaned over his seat and unlocked it for him. He opened it and said, “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For unlocking my door,” clarified Lincoln.

“Right. So where’re we going to eat?”

“Either Mario’s or Lucianna’s,” he answered.

Mario’s was a slow pizza place somewhat out of the main mass of the city. Lucianna’s was a middle-of-the-road pasta restaurant. It wasn’t very far, but Aurora had never liked the smell of the place when passing it. For this reason she said, “Alright, Mario’s it is then.”

Lincoln carefully navigated the somewhat confusing streets out of the campus and onto the squarer lattice that made up Liberty Falls. The trip out to the pizza place was so quiet that Lincoln found himself unsettled and wished she had chosen the closer restaurant.

The parking area was almost empty except for the few vehicles owned by the employees. Even though the place was open during the lunch hours, the general population seemed to think of it as more of a dinner destination. This had to do with the decorations, Lincoln thought. The dark wood interior and over-abundance of neon lamps shaped like beer logos certainly didn’t feel too inviting for a business luncheon.

Sure enough, only one other table had a diner, and he sat alone with his deep-dish and ale. Lincoln followed his guest to a small booth, but chose to sit opposite her. He looked around for a menu or even a folded card with their choices on it, but no such thing appeared to him. He completely missed the chalkboard behind the counter with a few toppings listed and the sizes priced. He leaned forward and said in a softer tone, “Is there a menu?”

“Not here, champ,” said Aurora casually.

A young-looking woman approached and put some water glasses on the table from her tray. Then she pulled a small pad of paper from her apron and asked without looking up, “What can we get you two?”

Without pausing, Aurora ordered for them both, “We’d like a large carnivore with extra swiss and two ginger ales. We’d like a side of tots while we’re waiting, with a small dish of ketchup and no other interruptions. And that’ll be all.”

The girl wrote it all down and then left them to place their order. After a minute of silence at their table, their drinks and appetizers arrived, and then they were alone. Lincoln took a small swallow of his ginger ale and put it back on the table. It’d been some time since he’d had soda.

Aurora spoke up first between tater-tots, “So tell me about yourself.”

Lincoln cleared his mouth with a drink from his water glass and then answered, “I’m 28 years old, from Alabama-”

“You don’t sound like it,” interrupted Aurora.

“Not everyone in the south has a drawl,” Lincoln countered. He continued, “I hate anchovies and bees. I’ve always been interested in space-travel, but not in a nerdy way. I think we’re pretty close to making some important advances. That’s why I’m majoring in that area.”

Aurora ate the lion’s share of the tots while Lincoln respectfully spoke without eating. He didn’t mind though, he was more interested in the forthcoming pizza anyway. Nonetheless, he ate the last two tots in one mouthful, showing his guest the courtesy he felt like he was receiving. Whether she knew he was sending her a message or not, he saw that she noticed his action. She paused to look at him for a second and then she quickly cleaned her hands on a disposable napkin.

He invited, “Your turn.”

“I’m not done learning about you yet. Tell me about your family.” She did this half out of self-torture and half to envy him his family.

“Alright,” said Lincoln. “I’m an only child. My parents both died about two years ago when a drunk driver rolled his SUV onto their sedan.”

Aurora paused mid-swallow and placed her ginger ale back slowly onto the table. But Lincoln didn’t give her much time to digest that information before continuing, “My wife died some years before that in…another accident. I don’t have any children. Now it’s your turn.”

Aurora felt like such a heel. But how could she have known? Softly she spoke to him while reaching toward his hand, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”

He pulled his hand away from hers before they touched. “No, it’s fine. You were saying?”

Aurora felt such a renewed connection with him because of both his sorrowful state and because she too was alone. Her armor was cracked, and she decided to let him a little closer to her. With her head contritely bowed, she responded, “My mother died when I was born, and I was put into the foster system. I don’t know if my dad thought he couldn’t take care of me or if he was angry at me for her death, but either way he refused to allow contact with me a few years back when I petitioned for it.”

She continued, “I’ve lived in so many foster homes that I have lost cou
nt. Everything good in my life I had to do for myself because there were simply too many children in the foster system to let us all get the attention we deserved.”

Lincoln listened respectfully to the things she was telling him, although he already knew most of it. Another swallow of ginger ale and she continued, “I don’t know what it feels like to lose someone close to me, but I do know how it feels to not have them at all.”

They sat for a few minutes in silence, like two lost souls finding a moment of solace in mutual loneliness.