movie.act3p1

scenes L-xiii

The Future is Present

           “And here we are,” Nyra said from the pilot’s seat after an effortless jump to the near-future. “‘Any random night’ in July, 2026… Passengers are usually more specific.”

           Jace and Laurie were looking out the long, narrow reinforced window along the aircraft’s starboard side, down towards Desert Tree Elementary’s night lamps. Jace then stepped away to reply, “Like I said, my cousin didn’t give me an exact date that he was returning to. But I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have come back to a time when he’d have to go back to school soon. Not after everything he went through as the ‘time ninja.’”

           “Sounds like him,” Laurie added. “I’d guess the start of summer, so he’d get the longest rest possible. But how do you go back to everyday… high school after all that?”

           “Well, there’d be another reason…” Jace said and took out his phone. “His own memories of time traveling should fade by the time school starts. But here in July… I’ll just call him.” Everyone in the ship kept quiet while he tapped at his cousin’s face in the contact list, and once Warren picked up, they listened in. Jace tried to keep things casual and normal-sounding. “Hey, Warren. Yeah, so… You’re not busy, right? I just wanted to—huh? My voice sounds… Oh, yeah, I’m just a little stuffed up. Could we have a chat, in person, like… at your house, out front? I know… I know I’m a weirdo. It’ll be quick. Uh-huh… All right, thanks. I’ll be over… sooner than you’d expect.”

           Jace sighed and looked around at the others, and Nyra smirked before swiveling in her chair to face her console again. After tapping in a provided address, she nudged the throttle forward, and the night lights of the suburbs steadily passed by outside.

           “Jace, did you walk?” was the first thing Warren asked as his cousin came up the driveway. “What’s so important that we need to have an IRL night chat? W-wait…”

           “Sorry for ruining your night, cuz, but I had to ask…” Jace stepped into the light near an arms-crossed Warren and took a breath. “Does Toys ‘R’ Us ring a bell?”

           “Agh, damn it…” he groaned and rubbed his face. “I thought you looked shorter. Jace, what is it now? I just got back a few weeks ago. The memories are still fresh, bro!”

           “I was hoping they would be. Something came up—nothing to do with your dad this time, but we could still use your help. You got any interest in seeing the future?”

           Jace signaled with his hand, and Warren watched in mild curiosity as a floating rectangle of light opened up at the end of the driveway, with Wes inside of it.

           “So, we go from Dad being the problem to Millie causing havoc… No offense, Millie,” Warren said inside the shuttle, still cloaked at the end of the driveway where it just barely fit. “But it doesn’t sound like she’s having some nostalgia binge of her own.”

           “I hope another fight won’t come out of this somehow, but if it does, it’d be good to have you back for one more battle, kiddo,” Wes replied. “Even if you need a haircut.”

           The younger Millie let out a scoffing snort. “Come on, I’m the sneaking around nonconfrontational kind. You think she’ll get a spider-leg battle suit, shoot lasers and missiles at us like you did, Wes? She’s desperate, and after… something, but I dunno…”

           “Our-age Mill was working on a theory, I believe,” Arthur mentioned.

           Mid-Thirties Millie nodded. “I do have an idea that might blow your mind.”

           “You might as well hold off a little longer on sharing it,” Nyra advised. “There’s someone else we should talk about it with anyway, so save yourself some breath.”

           “All this fighting…” Laurie, staring at the floor, spoke up quietly. “You know I hate it when things get mean and physical. Did you try talking to your adversaries, Jace?”

           He huffed. “The things and people we fought weren’t really gonna see our side with some simple ‘charisma check.’ Warren, you don’t know what’s going on, right?”

          His messy hair shook. “Nah. If she’s not some older version of our Millie, and was close enough in age to fool you… Yeah, no ideas.” After a moment, he looked at Laurie and said, “Hey, Lor. I didn’t really say hi yet. Guess I ‘just accepted’ you being here.”

           She shyly replied, “It was just… dumb luck that I’m here. But I’ve had some fun, and I think I could be a professional time traveler… Um… Y-you got tall.”

           “Heh, you should see how much Jamie shot up in tenth—” he went quiet when everyone heard some shouting from outside. Warren bent down and looked out the narrow window, along with Jace. “Great. I think Sally’s looking for me.”

           “Your sis, right?” Nyra asked. “No room for more passengers.” She opened up the port side door, facing away from the house so that the light from the shuttle stayed hidden, and making twelve-year-old Sally’s words audible. “Better see what she wants.”

           “Warren! Where’d you go?” Sally called out into the night from the porch. “Stop being a weird broody teenager in the dark! Mom needs help with Apple TV passwords!”

           “All right, fine…” Warren grumbled to the others. “Give me a few minutes. I need to change anyway. Tch, man… I suddenly really miss my badass sword.”

           Those few minutes soon turned into centuries later, when the gang watched in excitement as the night skyline of Royal Valley transformed in a flash to a concrete jungle of shimmering glass, cloudy afternoon skies, and fog thick enough to obscure the mountains that should have dominated the horizon. The city now had over a dozen massive skyscrapers; none were familiar, though each was ripped out of a typical sci-fi or cyberpunk movie. Signage and bright holographic light displays pierced the sunlit streets in all colors, while vehicles with wheels passed by below on 29^th century clean, efficient roads and airlanes moved about flying craft and drones with no need for stoplights.

           “Welcome to 2884, the ticking present!” Nyra said over the gasps exhibited from everyone, except for the older Millie. “Take your time gawking, I’ll hold position for a mo’ to do all the check-in proceeds. It’s crowded like Bill & Ted’s phone booth in here…”

           “Oh, wow, oh man, just… Wow,” Colin was the first to speak up. “This really is the future. B-but it’s not like… a movie version of a future we see and think of as some… tangible thing on the horizon. This is… distant. Unrecognizable, alien. We’re primitives.”

           “All right, settle down, Colin. It is cool,” Wes said, “but if you spent two years time traveling and became aware of this place a while back, it’s… Okay, it’s still a lot to take in. This doesn’t look a thing like Royal Valley. And… is the landscape green?!”

           “So weird…” Jace murmured. “One minute, I’m in a condo eating Millie’s dad’s amazing pancakes, and the next…” He looked up at the older Millie. “Why is it green?”

           “Take a guess. The climate’s screwed up,” she replied matter-of-factly.

           “Of course…” Laurie said with a disappointed moan. “I knew it would be.”

           “Well… Nyra doesn’t like it when I put it like that, so to be more ‘correct…’ The climate shifted. This sight was a shock to me, too, seeing the desert valley lush and rainy. Earth was overheating by 2100, before geoengineering went big and serious. Now there are enough orbital mirrors to bring temps down to, like, 1800s levels or thereabouts, but you can’t whiplash the world like that and not expect things to get out of whack. The oceans rose centuries ago, swamped cities, shut down the Gulf Stream, triggered wars and mass migration… Things are on the rebound and sea salted land is being restored, but you can only send so much frozen water to the poles each year. It’s a slow process.”

           “Ugh… And the animal extinctions… Emiko would be heartbroken.”

           “Laurie is very conscious about this stuff,” Jace reminded Millie.

           “I remember that,” Millie noted. “But, Laurie, if it’s any consolation, it does also unite countries toward a common goal, it does not get terrible in our lifetimes, good work has been done, and the bad news will be spread over decades, not months.”

           That didn’t seem to assuage her, and Laurie became quiet and sullen.

           “How many people live here now?” Arthur wondered. “Did the city become a refuge or something? I can’t begin to imagine the state of current geopolitics.”

           “About a million, because the city’s been one of those ‘stable’ areas for centuries that people flock to. Countries and currency don’t exactly… work like they used to.”

           “You’ll have to save the catch-up for later,” Nyra interjected. “I figured this was gonna happen as soon as I reported my passengers. Wes, the chief of the local Time Police department wants to meet you, right away. Now’s your chance to make peace.”

           Wes fretted, “Oh, great. Are they going to wipe my memory? Put me in time jail?”

           “I have to be on their shit list as well,” Warren added, his tone of both anger and fear. “I never killed any cyborgs, but still… This isn’t how my night was supposed to go. I was about to get into my pajamas and chill out with some games, but nooo…”

           “Would you two relax?” Nyra groaned as she put some coordinates into the autopilot. “Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think, because someone in this old bird did her job and, with some help from a local, pieced together the truth.”

           “Yeah, can’t say I’m convinced,” Wes muttered. “Lawyers are still around, right?”

           Nyra didn’t respond, so Wes went back to watching the city pass by outside and trying to identify any remaining landmarks or familiar roads. But it was all very different, which wasn’t surprising given the large passage of time. Laurie was particularly pensive.

           “Jace… Why is this year considered the ‘present?’ I get that it’s always ‘right now’ depending on what era a person lives in, and the ‘future’ never actually arrives, but…”

           He answered, “Lor… and Arthur and Colin. This is a lot for anyone to take in, but the truth is… this is the present, and nothing past that ‘right now’ is ahead of us. We live in the past. We’re part of history. We’re the ones that are out of time. Not Nyra.”

           This revelation gave Laurie and the two guys a lot to think about, and they went back to hushed chats as Wes remarked on the large complex they were approaching.

           “Now that place is huge. It’s like the Bladerunner building. Is it under renovation?”

           Nyra replied, “That’s headquarters. It’s being repaired… After you bombed it.”

           “It sounds like you’re public enemy number one around here, bud,” Arthur said as the shuttle landed on one of the dozens of aeropads along the half-pyramid-shaped building. After they stepped out and got their first whiff of the fresh, windy, and oddly humid air, he added, “I mean… bombing the police? The Time Police at that?”

           “Like I keep saying, I don’t know why I did it!” Wes argued, even while some big cyborg officers came to their sides and began escorting them into the building. “All I can remember is being in, like, a cave somewhere, and some kind of huge bomb was there, and I think me and Jace must’ve sent it to the future, but I just don’t…”

           “Shh,” Colin shushed him. “Stop speaking without an attorney!”

           The large group proceeded into a dark gray hallway lined with glowing strips of illumination that seemed to mimic sunlight. Jace, Laurie, Warren, and the quiet younger Millie simply tried to process everything they saw, not knowing what to think. It was the adults who were nervous—even Nyra, maybe about her own upcoming chat.

           The short hallway was more of a glorified airlock, so they quickly arrived at the heart of the megastructure. Like an arcology, the building was big enough to sustain its own lush environment, given life through an array of skylights. Foliage was everywhere, from the green barriers flanking fifty stories of walkways all the way down to a tree-filled park plaza below. Most of the employees that buzzed about the hive were of the organic and squishy kind, though they still had visible augments and implants. Those that saw Wes go by—perhaps Jace and Warren, too—were noticeably a little taken aback.

           “Unk… I’m getting the feeling we’re a little… famous,” Jace murmured.

           The elder Millie then mentioned, if just to breathe out some anxiety, “This is the site where King Arcade used to be, a long time ago. Just… a little fun fact for you.” She waited for a response for a few seconds, then added, “That’s more history I got into. By 2050, the ruins were cleared out and a park… you know, the outdoor kind full of trees, was here for about a century. After that, it became a military base again at the start of the Resource Wars. I think it’s obvious what that long, maybe inevitable conflict was about.”

           “Millie, please stop,” Laurie pleaded meekly. “I don’t want to hear all this…”

           “O-oh. Sorry… But good and bad come in waves, you know? The wars made humanity take space travel seriously, and we expanded to moons, planets, and asteroids for the things we fought over. And you have to admit… Royal Valley looks beautiful.”

           “I think Millie’s just trying to keep you from blabbing anymore,” Colin said to Wes.

           “This is us,” Nyra announced, stopping in front of a frosty smart glass door marked, ‘Central California Timeline Management Bureau. Chief Wisence Hawthorn.’

           “Hold on, I thought this whole building was for the Time Cops,” Wes wondered.

           “Time travel policing is actually one of the smaller departments. Vital, sure, but jurisdictions can cover hundreds of miles in this age, what with the response times we get through modern air travel. But you need departments for everything from the traditional patrolling, to cyber and AI criminal activity, to… pretty much anything you can think of. That’s enough exposition—we shouldn’t keep the chief waiting. She only asked for you, Wes, your kid and nephew, and the older Millie. The rest of you will have to wait out here. You can entertain yourselves by watching the birds that fly around.”

           “Good luck in there, Jace…” Laurie said passively and went over to the railing.

           Following Colin’s advice, Wes and his accomplices kept quiet on their march through a busy office filled with all manner of activity both recognizable and unfamiliar. Desks and chairs were still around, but there were also holographic virtual crime scene spaces and live maps being manipulated by agents, Minority Report style. Burly cyborg field cops brought in time crime perps who were adorned in various clothing that must have spanned centuries, a sergeant was chewing out the rookies in another room, and the pencil pushers filed away reports or studied historical images for any inconsistencies.

           Nyra knocked at the door furthest from the entrance, and it slid open right away to reveal an overworked graying woman who appeared to be in her sixties or so—at least, by 21^st century standards—behind a desk with three glass monitors covered in text-filled windows. Her dark navy uniform was decorated and formal and her walls were lined with framed photos of her accomplishments, now thoroughly in the past.

           “Nyra,” Ms. Hawthorn said and closed the door with a flick of her wrist. “So, these three must be our troublemakers, at last… And hello again, Ms. Vanbusen.”

           “I hope you show them leniency, Chief,” Millie said in a humbled tone. “I know I’ve always defended them, but I never could tell which way you were leaning…”

           “Because I never show it.” The chief studied a nervous Wes, Jace, and Warren with tired eyes. “Violently resisting officers, changing an entire timeline twice, sending a bomb to our dispatch area, even letting a quartz detonate over an amusement park…”

           “Okay, sounds bad. But we were trying to fix…” Wes murmured, but trailed off.

           “We know,” the chief stated firmly. “We know almost everything, thanks to Nyra and Millie. Mr. Colton, if any of you were in real trouble, we’d have brought you in already. Our job is primarily investigation, to understand changes made to the timeline, why there were made, and who made them. Criminals keep at it and need to be stopped, but you corrected a mistake made by another version of yourself, and went home all on your own. Temporal amnesia takes care of the rest of the problem. If we tried to jail every wayward time traveler, we’d need this whole building and still get nothing done.”

           Nyra added, “In other words, the TMB and their officers’ jobs is to mitigate timeline damage, repair it with operatives or a daemon, record everything, and move on. Wes, your case wouldn’t be so unique and worthy of attention if it wasn’t for the fact that it all happened centuries before time travel was officially created—making legal and procedural issues with enforcing our laws a headache. And it resulted in a branch.”

           “A… branch?” Warren said curiously. “As in… another timeline?”

           “A permanent one, yes,” the chief continued. “This is where we know more than you and your dad do. Your activities and… amateurish bumbling about led to two major cut loops. The latter of which was a consequence of the first, and involved one of our captains breaking his vows to seek a personal mission against you. He—”

           “H-hold on, Chief, Nyra already told us about this,” Wes interrupted. “I suppose I’m glad I can’t remember dealing with that. But if it never actually happened, because Jace saved me and Warren… then what’s different about the other, bigger screw-up?”

           “This is where the bad me comes in,” Millie spoke up. “Just keep in mind, I don’t have memories of these loops myself. I only have my old notes, from when Jace caught me up on everything before he forgot about this stuff. But the idea that an alternate timeline survived, with a me that somehow crossed over, bypassed my security, and broke into my apartment and files because she knew my passwords is… scary.”

           “You’re saying… she’s from an entirely different timeline? Another universe?” Wes fell back in his chair and mulled over the concept. “What’s it take to cause that?”

           “A major event,” the chief summed up. “The kind we usually, but not always, manage to prevent. Wes, the senior version of yourself, in attempting to destroy Mr. Corathine’s transported Time Lab under the amusement park, sent a bomb to it.”

           “That’s right. I remember that coming up during our… little fight. What does—”

           “Originally, it detonated, in a timeline where you didn’t know about it. Triggering an earthquake that destroyed the park, and creating enough variables in space-time to send out a shock wave where temporal changes usually make a ripple. Once a change in the timeline that large happens, it’s too late to cancel out. The daemons can prune and correct small variations to avoid butterflies, but when you’re talking about enough of an altered world line where people are born or die that normally weren’t meant to do so, you run into major ethical issues around annihilating a new universe. Instead of having our daemons stitch back together a timeline we want to keep intact, we cut it off entirely.”

           “And… that’s how you create a true, stable… alternate universe.”

           “Exactly. Your family seems to catch on quickly to how it all works, Mr. Colton. And I know you just got here, but you also don’t seem too overwhelmed by this era.”

           “Heh, well… We did grow up in a period where sci-fi and possible futures and tech was, like, everywhere in media. We aren’t cavemen seeing a TV for the first time.”

           “Spoken like a true millennial. Anyway, it’s likely that our other Millie came from the ‘earthquake timeline.’ How though, we don’t know. We’ve yet to develop a way to cross into a parallel universe. What she’s after is also an unknown, but she’s leaving a mess in her wake and we’ve been chasing her for a while. If she’s trying to involve Jace, it tells me that she may be near the end of her plans, and knows him personally.

           “You two did see this alternate timeline, and must have interacted with her, but the moment you went back and prevented the quake, you lost access to her world. Now then…” She leaned forward in her chair. “I wanted to share this with you, but you don’t need to get involved; you can leave it to the professionals. What I want from you four, is a little time to talk and clear up some lingering missing details about everything you’ve been through. So that we can finally close the book on a very long report.”

           “That sounds… fine,” Wes said. “But can I ask you something that’s been on my mind first? How come I do still remember… at least most of what happened? Am I still going to make a time machine with André and go back all over again, even after I made peace with myself? I can’t just be stuck on a loop, right? Not after everything…”

           “That’s what we call an RD—a ‘reconciled deviation.’ You had your journey, and fixed what you needed to about yourself. So, we left it alone and stopped pursuing you.”

           “A reconciled…” Wes looked at Nyra. “Is that… bad? Or routine, or what?”

           “Uncommon,” she replied. “It’s also called a ‘timeline patch,’ and it’s used as a ‘trick’ to correct more… complex mistakes. It’s a step just below breaking off a branch entirely. To put it as simply as possible, a daemon stitches the timeline in a way to form a closed loop—a one-way ticket that doesn’t violate causality; you can fix something without being stuck in a repeating cycle. So just because you remember your big adventure and it also still happened, doesn’t mean you’re fated to go back all over again with André. The daemons were originally built to make closed loops possible.”

           “I think I get it… So even if I don’t re-meet André long after I lose my memories again, my journey and any growing up along the way will still be… real? Huh. Neat.”

           “Very.” Nyra smirked. “All right, let’s get to the interrogation. Oh, and there’s someone you might want to meet later this evening, Wes. But let’s leave it a surprise.”

           After about an hour, the well-grilled 21^st century gang emerged from the department and returned to the others, still on the walkway. The four barely noticed them, as they had all found something to fill up the time during the long wait. Arthur and Colin were doing a deep dive on the modern era internet via public kiosk, while Laurie and Little Millie were playing a holographic game of some kind with a couple of slick-looking teenage boys. It appeared to be a dungeon crawler, and it was being broadcast from a miniature spherical drone, hovering silently.

           “Hey… guys?” Wes had to speak up. “We’re back. If you… were worried.”

           “Hm? Oh, hey,” Colin replied with a quick glance. “Wes, this is crazy. A few of the food franchises from our time are still around. Some are almost a millennia old!”

           “Good to see you two are utilizing the miracle of being here wisely,” Millie said, and turned to her younger self. “And it’s nice that you’re both bonding with the locals, but did it have to be with some kids that just so happen to be in a police building?”

           The boys seemed to do the current iteration of a scoffing gesture, and with their buzz killed, they shut off their game, said bye to the girls, and left with their drone.

           “Hey, they were being nice,” Lil’ Mill grumbled. “You’re not my… Never mind…”

           “They were here because they tried hacking some crypto, big deal,” Laurie said.

           “Well, what’s next on the agenda?” Arthur wondered. “Is Jared out yet?”

           “All that’s left is the red tape,” Nyra answered. “You may think that with the net being infinitely fast and accessible on any bionic cornea, bureaucracy might be a faster process by now. Nope. But while I work on his release, you guys should go see your city! Just… don’t leave, since you’re technically in my custody. Public transport is free, and if you want to see an attraction,” she gave a plastic tab with a shimmering holo-diamond pattern to Millie, “a hundred creds—a week of my pay, for scale. Mill can be the guide.”

           “Nyra, I, er…” Millie sighed and pocketed the future money. “Maybe we…”

           “We’ll talk later. As friends again, no investigation hanging over our heads. Let’s all meet for dinner at seven, Victory Plaza Rooftop. The third building to have the name, if you guys were wondering. Oh, and Wes, feel free to talk about pretty much anything we just did with the chief if your friends ask. Most of it isn’t confidential.”

           With that, Nyra walked off, leaving the rest of the day up to the out-of-timers. Not that anyone, including Millie, knew where to go first from the elevated walkway.

           It was Colin that broke the silence with a cheeky inquiry, “So, Millie, what’s it feel like being the one to get spied on? Did you ever suspect she was a fed?”

           She huffed. “No… but she did treat me nice from the start, which I’m always suspicious of. She was sociable, helpful, and clearly loved the 90s, so we… hit it off.”

           “Millie…” said Arthur, leaning on the railing and watching a cockatoo fly from one walkway to another. “Do you think the other you made the portal that brought you here? It’d be a good way to keep you distracted while she tears through your apartment.”

           “That’s what I’m figuring. The only hint I ever got about the portal, was the note that it spit out when it appeared, asking me if I wanted to have an adventure. Simple, but something I would’ve enticed myself with, now that I think about it. Knowing all about time travel and helping Wes, Jace, and Warren for a few months was a high to chase.”

           “Will you stay here, if given the choice?” Teen Mill questioned. “Make living in the future… our future? I guess Wes also had to decide that, in the opposite direction.”

           “I doubt I’d ever truly feel at home here, but I’ve also been reluctant to go back.”

           “Millie, return to our own time—our page of history, where we belong,” Colin urged her. “It’s where all your friends are, the people who grew up with you.”

           “Laurie, you okay?” Jace asked her. “You’re kind of zoning out again.”

           “I’m fine,” she assured him. “Just… wanna get out there and explore.”

           Once they had figured out how to work the kiosks at the building’s nearest aeropad, a driverless air-taxi picked up the group and took to the sky swiftly and quietly.

           The aircraft was a quad-copter and looked like a giant drone, but the turbines didn’t run hard or make much noise; it was the anti-gravity tech that did most of the work. Surrounded by glass, including a see-through floor, they watched from their seats as they passed over what used to be the interstate. The moderate cruising speed gave them a chance to see that the highway now appeared to be a maglev rail, carrying trains across California. And on the other side of the tracks was good old Desert Tree.

           “This direct gravity manip is weird science…” Wes remarked once they had been dropped off at the edge of the neighborhood, and watched the copter float off like a sentient balloon. He then turned around to see a large park, where there had long ago been several suburban blocks of family homes. “This feels like the right place, but…”

           “Yeah. Our childhood houses aren’t here anymore,” Colin said, looking around at people jogging or walking dogs of breeds that hadn’t existed in their time. “I wonder what was here before this park. I think this is where your place used to be, Wes.”

           “What’d you expect, Dad, a museum to your greatness?” Warren joked.

           “Of course not,” Wes said. “Ah, well, at least the neighborhood isn’t covered in high-rises. Looks like mostly two or three-story homes—duplexes, maybe? They aren’t exactly what I expected; not boxy at all. They’re all kind of… organic? Hm. They must be 3-D printed out of some sturdy material. Maybe people go for specific designs.”

           “Sci-fi media usually just has mega-tall skyscrapers,” Millie noted. “Houses are so rarely shown. But there are still a lot of trees around. So… that’s nice.”

           “It’s possible a couple of the biggest ones might have even been around when we lived here,” Arthur suggested. “How about a walk? Any destinations in mind?”

           Laurie seemed to read the adults’ minds, and was the first to respond, “DTE!”

           “That’s what I was thinking,” Wes agreed. “But does it still exist?”

           “Let’s find out,” Teen Millie replied and started leading the pack. “We should still be able to find the way… Just picture how the neighborhood used to be…”

           The seven left the shady streets and crossed into the park, where centuries ago, familiar streets once formed boundaries to water gun battles or were navigated by big groups of kids on bikes. The old grids were gone, but the soul of Desert Tree remained.

           “Are we sure this is it?” Wes asked at a building on the other side of the park.

           Colin replied, “I think it is, dude. It says ‘Desert Tree Elementary’ over the door.”

           “I see that, but it’s five stories tall and huge. Is the playground inside? Do schools still have playgrounds? Is… Ah. It looks like it’s fenced in, on the roof. I even see trees up there. Huh… I wonder if Celly’s old Sherman Miller is still around, too.”

           School must have gotten out recently, and a few of the straggler or after-school activity kids were still heading off. Their clothes were colorful and expressive, and some of the jackets had LEDs in the collar. As it was drizzling, several students opened up see-through umbrellas with more lights in their handles. Some of the better-dressed kids even had anti-grav-drone-operated umbrellas that hovered over and followed them.

           “Think those are fifth-graders?” Arthur wondered. He ran some numbers in his head, adding, “Heh, wow, they’d be 888 generations past us. I dunno, Wes, you were always talking about exploits being passed down, but I don’t think even Zach’s name is whispered in those hallways anymore by this point. I’m glad physical schools still exist, instead of going all virtual or something. Nothing beats in-person… Hey, what’s that?”

           Security seemed either unseen or no longer needed in this era, so the group had no problem going up to a plinth in the middle of the front walkway. Encased in the glass atop it was a historical piece of worn stone, engraved with the words, “To Love To Learn,” and “Established 1976.” This hit all seven of the alumni in the feels.

           “Is that… the original?” Warren murmured, next to his excited dad.

           “It’s… over nine centuries old,” Laurie added. “Our history teacher did say that stone is the ultimate material for preservation. Think of all the students that have walked under it. Or around it, now.” She turned to the older Millie. “Had you seen this already?”

           “Yeah… I, uh… visited on my third day here,” she admitted. “It’s crazy to think about, but… Nyra told me she actually attended, too. Third to fifth, after she moved to Royal Valley from her space station. This is the fourth version of the building.”

           “Heh, that makes her one of us, then,” Little Millie remarked. “Hey. You still like her, don’t you? I’d know when we’re trying to be angry, but feel guilty about it.”

           “Before she dropped that bombshell, I almost…” She shook the thoughts out of her head. “Mill, don’t act like you have any idea yet what it’s like being an adult.”

           “Why do I have to be ‘Mill’? If Wes was Wessy, you should be… Eh, who cares.”

           Everyone next used some of their free time for a little needed stress relief at the park, close to the school. The adults were taking a casual stroll on one of the shorter paths—and observing the locals without making it weird—despite the ongoing sprinkles coming from an increasingly darkening sky. Meanwhile, Warren was off being a broody older teenager by skipping rocks into a pond. Jace, Mill, and Laurie watched them all from a bench that had its own shelter… also lit up with copious light strips.

           “The tall future buildings, I can handle,” Mill said to end the quietness. “What’s weird is seeing Royal Valley this green and humid.” She leaned forward and looked at Laurie. “So… you’re Lex’s kid, and Jace’s best friend, huh? We… didn’t really get to know each other over pizza back at game night. I’m slow to introductions.”

           “Yeah,” Laurie sighed, her eyes stuck on one person in particular. “We’ve had each other’s backs since preschool… And Warren was there a lot, too.”

           “Lor, I know you’ve been trying to tell me something,” Jace mentioned. “Now seems to be a good time, while it’s just us. Millie will go away if you tell her to.”

           “N-no… it’s fine.” She squirmed a bit. “It’s just… Ever since sixth grade—on the very first day, when Warren came to school with that new haircut…”

           Jace smirked a little. “You like him, don’t ya? But you haven’t told him yet.”

           With Millie now mildly invested, Laurie blushed furiously, buried her face in her hands in embarrassment, and replied, “Agh, Jace! I wanted to say it! It’s so stupid… But seeing what he’ll be like in another three years, I realized… it makes me like him even more. I can’t help how I feel! It’s not that I’m overly nervous about telling the guy this stuff—maybe just the usual amount of nervous—it’s more… not wanting to hurt you.”

           “You think I’d be mad because you ‘chose him over me?’ Laurie, I know what it’s like to have feelings for someone, across two groups of friends from as many decades. And it’s a lot more complicated and scarier than the way you see a good buddy. We’ll always have what we got. Crushes are tough. If you wanna go for it… good luck.”

           “But… how do I say it? He’s the kind that would laugh it off as a joke.”

           “You’ve been given an opportunity here,” Millie said with a shrug. “This will all be like some forgotten dream once we go home. Sounds like you get a free test run.”

           “Hm. I guess there really isn’t any harm in just seeing how he’d react…” Laurie looked at Jace and Millie anxiously. “But not right away! I still have to work up to it.”

           Downtown Royal Valley in the late afternoon was a dense, unfamiliar metropolis. The city the group once knew only had a few skyscrapers; here, there were dozens, made out of ultra-strong and strange modern materials that let them easily reach great heights. Some had large footprints, others were narrow, and several were a kilometer tall with tops that vanished into the clouds, their neo-neon lights glowing in the gray canopy.

           Still, there remained plenty of smaller venues between the monoliths, and among the restaurants and stores was a marble building that Millie had led everyone to—partly because she knew it’d be interesting, and partly because Wes had scheduled a meeting with someone he had longed to talk to, and this was the place they had chosen.

           “A technology and engineering museum?” Warren said in the lobby after they stepped inside. “This… could be cool. The history of… things. Maybe this is where the toy museum used to be? Millie, does this place have anything we would’ve used?”

           “Sure does,” she replied. “Our things were made of stuff that lasts a long time. CDs and DVDs, video games and consoles, smart phones and computers… Along with a bunch of weird junk between then and now that I still can’t really comprehend.”

           “Oh, man. Arty, Wes… we’re in heaven,” Colin gushed. “Centuries of tech!” He looked at the holographic map display, the lobby centerpiece. “Three floors of it!”

           “I wouldn’t be surprised if some of Wes’ old ‘sacred icons’ made it this far and are on display,” Arthur chuckled. “Will Nyra’s, uh, ‘creds’ cover our tickets?”

           “With enough left over for the gift store,” Millie assured everyone.

           Wes studied the interactive map, and as Millie got a batch of holofoil tickets, he explained to the group, “Hey. I have a little meeting here, but they only agreed if I went alone. I’m not sure how long our chat will last, but I’ll catch up as soon as I can.”

           Jace and Warren glanced at one another, and Jace asked, “Can you tell us who?”

           “Malcolm Corathine. I know things in ’96 ended without us really needing to find him, but he still feels like a dangling thread, ya know? I mean… since I’m already here.”

           “Oh… All right. Tell us how it goes—maybe he’ll offer ‘wisdom’ or something.”

           Wes smiled, though nervously since he was anxious about the meeting, and then Laurie asked once he had walked off, “Corathine? Is he that André guy’s dad, or…?”

           “Grandpa,” Warren explained. “He was a university professor, until Old Wes got him involved in his plans. We looked for him… but it turned out he was here all along.”

           The building’s basement was basic and spartan, and the sign above the entrance labeled it as a “Calm Room.” Its walls were covered in stone carvings and a curtain of falling water, and a walkway led to a concrete island with a single bench, in the middle of a sandy Zen garden. There was no music or sound, other than the moving water.

           “A calm room, huh…” Wes murmured to himself as he approached a lone figure hunched over on the bench. “For destressing? Wonder if a lot of buildings have one…”

           “They’re common, yes,” said the hoarse voice of the person with a big overcoat and light-lined cane. “Moments of mindfulness aren’t merely a ‘practice’ in this era. They have become as ubiquitous as sleep and eating. So, Mr. Colton… we meet again.”

           Wes joined him on the bench and studied the wrinkled, bearded face of an old man who had a public access show and taught at the university centuries ago. Who also had theories about time travel, and ended up helping another Wes with his plans.

           “I was looking for you,” Wes said. “Was. Can I ask about what you remember?”

           “Your visits in the late 80s. One of which must’ve been from you. A few years after that, the other Mr. Colton brought me to this period after being sent here via the project he worked on with my grandson. Yes, yes… My memory is still quite intact.”

           “I’m just wondering how you’d remember all of that, if my older self now never time travels to begin with. I was told about reconciled deviation, but… It’s a lot.”

           Malcolm shifted in his seat to look at Wes, wearing a senior’s smirk. “I’ve been here since I arrived, and changes in history take time to propagate through… time. So, yes, the memories I possess of you bringing me here have yet to leave me. Whether or not I simply poof back to 1992 or beyond when that wave arrives… I’m not sure yet.”

           “I think… I just want to take this chance to apologize for everything. I was going down a path of poisonous nostalgia and ego. He got his son involved; I did the same thing with my nephew. But the trip, both when I’m aware of it and not, was worth it.”

           “Time travel is infinitely fascinating. It’s too bad it’s also equally as dangerous. Learned your lesson, then? Do you think it reached your core, to change you forever?”

           “Hope so. I got over my self-doubts, regrets… My past. Now I’m trying to make my future, looking for new inspiration. I’m in the right year for it, but the wrong place.”

           “Oh, I don’t know. Museums and history are rich with fresh perspectives.”

           “Maybe you could show me your favorite displays. And then join us for dinner?”

           Malcolm took him up on the offer, and a couple hours later, one of the city’s oldest and wisest, if not eccentric, local historians and science-lovers was telling tales at a rooftop restaurant on the top of a tall mega-building. It was enclosed in glass given the altitude, and every few minutes, another shuttle would blast off from the launch tower in the distance, its fusion rockets briefly lighting up the twilight sky.

           “Oh, I did indeed know Hadron McMare,” Malcolm said to everyone at the large table as soft, jazzy music played from the packed room’s holographic piano. “He visited my class several times, and when I was young, I frequented the city’s only ever casino that he helped manage. Not to gamble, mind you. But its bar had the best Scotch. He kept in touch with everyone from the valley’s ‘golden age,’ hundreds of people.”

           “I keep forgetting that you’re from an entirely different generation than Millie and her friends,” Nyra said as the food arrived. “You saw Royal Valley in the fifties…”

           “Heck,” he laughed, “I was fifty in the fifties. Oh, this dish is just delightful.”

           “It all looks surprisingly… familiar,” Colin noted, studying the plates full of meats or pasta. “Guess I was expecting, I dunno, noodles suspended in blue gelatin, or food cubes. Or live worms. Anyway. Thanks for dinner, Nyra. Shame Jared isn’t here.”

           She replied, “You can get stuff like that at other restaurants; this place has the classics. As for Jared—I was about to tell you, he was released an hour ago, but he wasn’t in a hurry to come down just yet. He was all like, ‘are you kidding? I’m on a space station!”

           “Wait, wait—a space station?” Arthur exclaimed just before he took a bite.

           “I didn’t mention that yet? Yeah, the TMB headquarters is in orbit, on a large orbital. That’s where the three remaining daemons operate, and where dangerous time-criminals are held. See, Malcolm, they thought he was in league with ‘Bad Millie.’ She’s been causing trouble for a while, jumping across time with a stolen quartz.”

           “Nyra…” Jace spoke up between bites. “I gotta say, as someone who didn’t grow up in the 90s, but definitely noticed how people talk and dress back then, it’s almost like you grew up right alongside Wes. And then time-traveled here like he did.”

           “Why, thank you.” She grinned. “A lot of travelers do try to emulate the scenes from their favorite eras. Before I joined the force, I grew up watching ancient movies, and playing all those simple games from the time. Again, every last decade of a century interests me, but among all those 90-somethings between the time horizons… Whew.”

           Malcolm wondered, “What is it about the 1990s? I don’t think I ever asked you. Granted, I only saw its first couple of years, but I’ve caught up on history while here.”

           “I mean, the themes and attitudes of pop culture comes in cycles and waves, like nations and beliefs at large have over the centuries. What’s truly unique about the 1990s is the rise of the net and its stone age days. You had the last generation—Wes and his friends—that knew of a time before it and then lived through its implementation into everyday life. They’d grow up with a nostalgia for the simpler times of the old world’s last breaths, but also looked to the future in both fear and excitement. And partly since now everything is networked, I find their time period… endlessly fascinating.”

           Wes replied after a moment, “As I was walking the museum today, I was thinking more and more that you might see me like some relic myself. A quaint antique.”

           “No, not at all! Relics are dead and dusty; time travel has turned history into a living thing, like everyone who has lived in the past eight centuries continues to do so and is right there to go visit and talk to. Before wiping their memories, in most cases, sure, but you said it yourself—your generation had already dreamed up the future and saw what was possible, even if you didn’t have the science to get there yet. So, ya know, it’s not like you’re some medieval peasant who confuses our tech for magic. Actually, on the subject… I whipped something up today while I was on hold with headquarters.”

           She handed Wes her tablet, displaying pictures, and he asked, “What’s all this?”

           “Ten famous inventions that came along between 2100 and 2800. I could tell you what they all do, but…” she chuckled, “I wanna see your reactions.”

           As Wes flipped through a collection of strange machines and instruments, Colin leaned over and mumbled, “What the heck does that do? Is that thing floating?”

           “She’s gotta be messing with us,” Arthur said. “This is just weird modern art.”

           “How would you even advertise some of these things?” Wes questioned. “I guess it’d help to know what they did. Speaking of, where are the ads, Nyra? Not complaining; I’m just not used to seeing a big sci-fi city without bright flashing holo-capitalism.”

           “We still have advertising,” Nyra assured them. “It’s just that we stopped paying any attention, so habits and interests barely changed. Now they’re turned off… except for one weekend each month, when cities light up with beckoning products and services. Some people really look forward to finding the best new attention-grabbers.”

           “So… the same old shallow superficial junk is still around…” Laurie grumbled.

           “Well, sure, if you see it that way. But society has made other advances since—”

           “Hold on, Nyra,” Warren cut her off, speaking for pretty much the first time that dinner. “Lor, you’re still going on about this stuff when we’re sixteen. All you do is tell us about whatever injustice you’ve found out about that week, that we can’t do anything about because we’re only a bunch of kids, and it bums us out. You used to be fun.”

           Laurie looked both indignant and ashamed, but then Nyra spoke for her, “Now, wait a sec. I want to hear what’s on her mind. Every generation has its troubles.”

           Warren scoffed, but Laurie pushed through and rambled, “I just… don’t get how people my age determine what’s important. We know about all of the problems, but then most of us don’t do anything that might help. Robots and AI might take away our jobs by the time we’re adults, we have lockdown drills each month, animals are disappearing, the weather will get scary, and climate change is going to start wars… But it’s okay, because celebrities will keep telling us what to buy, and let’s just get all our fake news from social media. So, you know what, Warren? I’m sorry for being a killjoy, but when some stupid, mostly ironic comment I made had thousands of more likes than anything else I ever posted, it kind of made me realize that the things we ‘like’ matter the least.”

           “Wow, Laurie…” Jace murmured. “You’ve been keeping that inside a while…”

           “It can all drive you crazy, can’t it?” Nyra replied calmly with a warm smile. “But guess what? People have always thought they were living in the end times. Even now, in an era where we can see centuries and things seem stable in the present, we find things to worry about. My advice is to be a touch selfish—and bring your friends into your little hedonistic circle, as well. It’s good to be conscious of modern issues and use them to guide your morals, but letting stressors control a life you’re meant to enjoy just makes you miserable. Look out at our city, Ms. Skyler. Despite everything, we made it.”

           Laurie sunk into her seat. “But I… I just want to make a difference, so badly…”

           “Being someone who ‘changes the world,’ or just trying to dig out your ‘place in history’ is a lot of pressure to put on someone.” Nyra took her final bite as dinner began to wind down. “One day, you’ll wake up and realize how many people you do matter to.”

           “She’s made for a pretty good replacement therapist during my stay,” Millie said.

           “I also picked up some of these perspectives from Dr. Corathine,” Nyra added.

           “Still…” Millie crossed her arms and glared down at her plate’s crumbs. “I don’t think I’ll ever let go of the cruel joke the time horizon pulled on me. When I was a kid and the guys told me, I was kind of relieved. But after all the years thinking about it…”

           “What… are we talking about, Millie?” Colin asked after he ordered a dessert.

           Millie looked at her younger self, now anxious, and answered, “The beginning of accessible time was in 1990 when I first heard about it. Since it’s always moving, now it’s in 1992. I have few memories of my mom, and she’s sick in most of them. I kept hoping that being here, maybe I’d help find a way to get through the barrier. So I could see her again. No one needs to say ‘sorry’ or feel bad for me… I’ve heard it more than enough.”

           Nyra said nothing, because she had no doubt talked to Millie many times about this, but she did reach over and quietly give her friend’s hand a squeeze.

           “… What about you, Malcolm?” Wes asked him after failing to come up with anything to say to Millie. “Don’t you want to return to the 90s and see your grandson?”

           “Of course,” he said emphatically. “But I’m not quite done with what I want to do and see here, and I’ll lose my memories if I go back. I’m about sixty percent health monitoring implants now, so I’ll head home if… you know, my time’s running out.”

           “Speaking of going back…” Colin, devouring some sort of cookie-pie drizzled with honey, mumbled between bites. “Are we… leaving once Jared comes back down?”

           “If you’re ready to,” Nyra said. “We’ll take care of the other Millie. We’re pretty good at our jobs; she’s no mastermind time criminal. Just slippery and sneaky.”

           Arthur remarked, “Never pictured the playground spy becoming a time-traveling-multiverse-surfing person of interest… Good luck. By the way, any cute or annoying nicknames they give you guys? Being something of a fed myself, I’ve heard them all.”

           “Today’s government doesn’t work the same way you’re used to, Arty, but we’re the TMB. So, Thumbs, obviously. I had this one perp that—hold on, I got a call…” Her pupils lit up, and she must’ve been able to talk internally, as she said nothing for a solid minute. Once her eyes returned to normal, she reported, “Something went down on the station. André Corathine and Charlie Pippin are in custody, with some… strange device. They’re asking us to help with the situation. You guys… feel like taking a trip to orbit?”

           Nearly everyone stared wide-eyed at Nyra with mouths agape. The silence lasted for a very long five seconds, until Colin’s dessert fork clattered onto his plate.

           “Come on, everyone, hurry along,” Nyra rushed the group into the city’s space port and past the security checkpoint. “If anyone wants to stay behind and miss out on what’ll probably be a once in a lifetime thing for you guys, I totally get it. But there are just enough seats left on the next shuttle. If we miss it, it’s ninety minutes till the next.”

           “We’re going to space… We’re seriously going to space…” Laurie, like several of the others, had to repeat to make it real. “Don’t we need training? And we just ate!”

           “That’s not a problem,” Nyra said, flashing her badge to the security personnel. “It’s a smooth ride. Another benefit of grav-tech. There will still be rockets, though.”

           “We don’t even have time to think about it, do we?” Wes said, as they boarded a vacuum-tube Hyperloop-style train. “Wait, don’t we at least need, you know, suits?”

           “Why? We’re not going on a spacewalk. And the shuttles seal in a split-second if there’s a leak. Heck, you’re going to have gravity the entire time. It’s all menial, really.”

           Once he was strapped into a seat, Wes added, “Maybe for you. But for us, this is like… reading a book that suddenly goes from being a slice of life story to hard sci-fi.”

           “No fiction in this science,” Millie remarked. “It’s just like a King Arcade ride.”

           The train took off at hundreds of miles an hour down a long transparent tunnel that covered the span of the large tarmac and ended at an extremely tall structure that resembled a radio tower, which went straight up and vanished in the clouds. The group had seen it at a distance all day, but up close it was something else. Flashing red strobe lights trailed upward along one side; the other was covered by a dull crimson glow.

           “What is that, exactly?” Colin, staring upward through the glass, wondered.

           “A mass driver, nearly two miles tall,” Malcolm answered. “It’ll propel us up to about 70,000 feet, and then the rockets kick in. Unlike Nyra, I’ll never grow bored of it.”

           With the train slowing down already, Nyra said with a grin, “The city’s dubbed the driver tower The Red Demon, out of reverence for our first amusement park.”

           “First…?” Arthur replied.

           “Mr. Teller, your dad may be happy to hear that we have three theme parks now.”

           “Seriously? Agh, we should’ve gone to one of them today,” Laurie grumbled.

           “No thanks,” Mill replied with a bit of a gagging expression.

           “Same,” Warren said. “I’m good. Is going to space not a big enough thrill, Lor?”

           The train came to a stop, and the doors opened to a shuttle loading bay.

           “Keep moving, we don’t want to make everyone else miss the window,” Nyra pressed them on as the bay’s service techs also made keep-it-moving gestures.

           “Oh, wow…” Laurie, looking at the waiting shuttle under a clear sky, murmured.

           The flying wing spacecraft was hoisted on a hydraulic platform that looked like it could be angled upward to line up the big bird with the tower. Not getting much time to study the design, the group stepped through the open hatch and into a cabin not very dissimilar from a 21^st century passenger jet, with several long rows of seats. There were about fifty other passengers—most of them occupied with their various devices—and the empty spots were scattered among them. Malcolm was content with the seat by an emergency exit door, while Nyra, Wes, the older Millie, and Jace and Laurie were able to score the only five seats next to each other. The doors were closed seconds later, and the captain wasted no time in making what must’ve been typical announcements.

           “No windows?” Laurie whispered and buckled in. “I wanted the full experience…”

           “Wait just a second,” Nyra said.

           The captain finished the brief safety spiel, and as the platform began to audibly adjust—the onboard gravity was already active and kept everything pulled to the floor—a sweeping video screen opened up across the ceiling, crystal clear enough to make it feel like the passengers were outside. Not that the usual passengers really cared.

           With a schedule to keep, the shuttle slingshot into the sky with great acceleration that turned the tower’s lights into a single streak of red. Even so, the grav-tech kept the cabin so completely tranquil that the fliers were pretty much watching a movie instead of being shaken violently or getting pressed into their seats. A minute or so after clearing the tower, the rockets ignited to carry the spacebound the rest of the way into low orbit. The mighty fusion candles finally produced a ship-wide tremor, albeit a minor one.

           “So, Wes,” Nyra struck up a casual conversation, “when I started investigating you, I looked up the games you made and found them in the archives.”

           Understandably unable to take his eyes off the projection of brightening stars, he replied, “Uh. Wow. Impressive data retention. Are they really good enough to warrant centuries of preservation? Or do people just never let any form of art disappear…?”

           “It’s okay, be modest. We save everything. We still make pixel games, too. I loved them… But—and I shouldn’t say this—your upcoming games feel like they lost their spark.”

           “Hm? Really?” Now he looked over the kids at her, three seats away. “I mean… obviously I haven’t made them yet, but that’s not surprising. Inspiration eludes me.”

           “Uh-huh,” she replied flatly. “And today hasn’t stimulated your creative side.”

           “This is all amazing, of course. But there are enough sci-fi titles already. Though… slice of life sci-fi could be interesting. Or, maybe… there are few RPGs in the genre…”

           “Wes, look,” Laurie said, and he turned his attention back to the screen to see the large, approaching space station, its gold radiators extending for miles. “It’s big.”

           “So… no space elevators?” Wes wondered as he stared on in further awe.

           Nyra yawned. “They’d have to connect to something in geosynchronous orbit; we haven’t needed to put something that far out yet. Maybe one day, for a bigger fleet.”

           “I wish I could stay here…” Laurie said wistfully with pensive eyes.

           “It is tempting to try,” Millie replied. “But even if you really wanted to… and I still don’t think I do, there’s something of a visitor ‘visa.’ Eventually, they’ll make us return to our own era, to be a part of history again. I have maybe a month left.”

           “Well, that sucks…” She glanced at Jace. “But I guess I’d miss home eventually.”

           The entire flight lasted less than twenty minutes, and it didn’t take long to catch up to the TMB space station and pull into one of its many docking bays. The others left the shuttle to start their work shifts as agents or other staff, while the ‘day pass’ guests were led by Nyra over to a door away from the main air lock entrance. No sooner had the shuttle arrived than it began to fill up with those from a previous shift.

           “Ms. Fernandez, welcome back,” an older, bearded man in a uniform that put Chief Hawthorn’s to shame greeted Nyra with a handshake. “And Mr. Corathine. So… this lot is what we’re abuzz about. I’m Director Kestin. Welcome aboard my station.”

           “It’s, um, quite impressive,” Colin replied. “I feel like I’m in Star Trek.”

           “A purveyor of the classics, I see. But I suppose that goes for all of you, Nyra included. I do enjoy meeting people from the past, but I’m afraid we’re a bit pressed for time. Her report mentioned that you were once friends with a Charlie Pippin?”

           “A long time ago, yes…” Wes said. “And Nyra said he’s with André?”

           “Yes.” The director looked at Malcolm. “But… it’s odd, Professor. Even though we caught them using illegal time-tech, your grandson claims to be from… another world.”

           Malcolm was too perplexed for words, so Millie huffed out, “He’s her André.”