Timebound(51)

Katherine flushed and looked down at her plate, a bit of guilt in her eyes. “You’re right, Kate. That’s what I should have you do. There were some minor changes to history—I’ll admit that. A few instances where someone made a discovery that was a bit too advanced for their time, if you know what I mean.

“But,” she continued, “those changes were miniscule compared to what Saul is planning. And I haven’t been a CHRONOS historian for many years now. I’ve got a personal motive here. So do you. So does Connor. The timeline I knew for over forty years is the correct timeline for the three of us, as long as we can stop Saul. Being cured of the cancer would be nice, but I’ve lived a long time. I’m not willing to trade your life and the lives of my daughters, not to mention Connor and his kids, for an extra decade or so added on to my own life. Angelo and Shaila didn’t deserve to die that way, but from my perspective, they’ve been gone a very long time, and from your perspective, they never existed at all.”

Connor nodded. “Katherine and I have debated this over and over, Kate. I’m not sure there is a correct timeline here. I’m in this to get my kids back and hopefully to give them a nice, Cyrist-free future. I don’t know exactly what the Cyrists are planning, but based on what Katherine has told me, I don’t think a future with Saul in control is one that is good for anyone. It’s tougher for Katherine because she lost friends, but it’s pretty simple for me. I couldn’t care less which timeline is correct, because I know which one is right.”





11





I put the book down by the computer and rubbed my eyes. “This is the world’s most boring version of the Travel Channel. And the History Channel. Combined. And I don’t much care for either of those…”

Connor snorted. “You have real-time views of hundreds of spots in history, all around the world, and you’re bored?”

The Log of Stable Points was as deceptively thin as one of the diaries that I had been reading, but it contained even more information. It was similar to watching a small video, but these were live webcams, as best I could tell. I used the visual interface to choose a date and time and then blinked my eyes to select, at which point the translucent “screen” in front of me would display the geographical location at that specific date, in real time. It might sound cool in principle, but…

“Have you actually watched any of these?” I asked Connor.

“No,” he admitted, continuing to scan the document on his screen as he talked. “I can see text on the page, but the earpiece that you’re wearing is what triggers your ability to hear and see the video. I’ve tried it and I get occasional sound and images that break up every few seconds. It gives me a stomachache. Katherine can’t really pull them in clearly either—we think it’s because CHRONOS still had a lock on her signal when the explosion or whatever it was happened. But she has described some of them to me…”

“Did she tell you that most of these videos are of a deserted alley? Or woods? Or a dark broom closet?”

“Would you rather appear suddenly in the middle of a crowd? On top of someone? In some of the eras you’re observing, that would be a quick ticket to burning at the stake, you know.”

“Yeah, well, I just spent five minutes watching a squirrel in a park in Boston. Supposedly on May 5th, 1869, but it could just as easily have been yesterday. He looked like a very modern squirrel to me.”

“Then you wasted five minutes.” Connor sighed. “Focus on the elements that are constant, Kate. The squirrel isn’t going to help you locate that stable point when you start doing test jumps, unless it happens to be a stuffed squirrel.”

I picked the book back up and was scrolling through to find something remotely interesting when Daphne began barking, followed by the doorbell. A few seconds later, I heard Katherine’s voice from below.

“Kate, you have a gentleman caller.”

I rolled my eyes. “How is it that a grandmother from the twenty-fourth century sounds like she’s from a Charles Dickens novel?”

Connor shrugged. “Maybe both eras seem like ancient history to her. Could you tell me the difference between what they called a boyfriend in 1620 and in 1820?”

This time I gave in to the temptation to stick out my tongue, and Connor surprised me by actually laughing.

I had purposely avoided thinking about whether Trey would come by like he said he would, mostly because I didn’t want to feel let down if it didn’t happen. The previous day had been too devastating for me to get my hopes up about anything. Still, I was ridiculously happy to know he’d kept his promise, and it took a conscious effort to keep from taking the stairs two at a time.