Thanks, R, I owe you. Is TIC going to make it?
Jury’s out on that. Just come home safe, okay?
Got it. Log Off.
Logged Off.
A tremor worked its way from her tailbone to the crown of her head. Cynda converted the watch to its usual size and then stuffed it under the pillow, huddling under the bedcovers in a futile attempt to get warm.
No Chris, no apartment, potentially no job. What am I going to do?
She punched the pillow. What would Defoe do?
Touted as the greatest of their ilk, Harter Defoe’s inventiveness was legendary. He’d always found a creative solution to any problem. Probably all PR, she muttered.
Besides, he’s not here.
But I am.
The spider sat on the chair near the wardrobe. He’d nestled into the folds of her mantelet, multiple eyes peering brightly in her direction.
Thanks. It’s good to know some things are constant.
As the time and tide, the spider replied, pushing a recalcitrant fold into a more comfortable position and then settling with an exaggerated ease that reminded her more of a cat than an arachnid.
Time and tide waits for no Rover, she murmured. Even Chris.
Sorry about that, the spider said. How will you get him home?
That was the dilemma. It wasn’t as if she could hug his dead body to hers and then effect the transfer. His ESR Chip would tell TIC what she was up to. Once they sensed his presence, the transfer would be denied. Even if she removed the chip, they’d notice the excess weight. They’d retrieve Samuelson in a heartbeat. He was a tourist.
I need to get Chris to ’057 without them realizing he’s along for the ride, she mused. But how?
Lying on the bed, she closed her eyes, letting her mind wander.
Memories, like rambunctious toddlers, scampered around in no particular order. The explosion of the atom bomb, the streets of Imperial Rome filled with cheering hordes, the final death throes of the Hindenburg as it sank to the ground in a boiling mass of flames. Ash and smoke filled her nose, followed by the horrific roar of Vesuvius’ wrath as it engulfed Pompeii.
Fire and ash… she murmured, and then swung herself upright. A cunning grin formed. Why not? As long as he’s home… The grin quickly faded. But if I cremate him, we won’t know how he died.
She placed her face in her hands. Autopsy. Her eyes darted toward the wall that adjoined her room with Alastair’s.
Dr. Grumpy owes me one, she said, rising with purpose.
2057 A.D.
Time Immersion Corporation Cold rage made it hard to concentrate. Ralph rose deliberately from the chair and leaned across the chronsole counter toward Thad. His voice pitched low, like a growl. You told me Chris was back in.
An unconcerned shrug.
You’re fudging the numbers, aren’t you? Ralph demanded.
How many others are still in the time stream? How many are you planning to orphan?
Faces swiveled in their direction. The room collectively held its breath.
We’re not orphaning anyone, Thad replied in a practiced tone. That’s against the law.
Then why haven’t the other Senior Rovers been in here to complain about losing their apartments? He looked at the computer screen. The logs are telling me they’re all in. Why aren’t they stringing you up by your balls, Thad?
None of the Seniors are lodging complaints. They understand it was purely a fiscal decision to aid the company during its rough patch. The attitude problem appears to be yours.
Ralph leaned closer. Bring Chris Stone home. You owe him that.
No, we don’t. His contract didn’t specify retrieval in the event of termination. He should have paid closer attention.
Decency demands—
Decency doesn’t make payroll, Mr. Hamilton, Thad snapped.
What about Cynda?
When his boss turned away, ignoring the question, Ralph’s fury exploded. You’re going to leave her there, aren’t you? You lying weasel. You’ve got your nose so far up the bosses’—
Thad whirled and banged his fist on the chronsole counter.
You’re done, Mr. Hamilton. Clear out your stuff. I want you out of here in less than a minute.
Ralph snagged onto his nemesis’ collar, raising a fist. Thad squeaked and tore himself away, tapping at his PSI unit as he skittered to the other side of the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Ralph saw one of the customer reps throw him a thumbs-up. He returned it.
The security specialists were in front of him within thirty seconds.
What kept you guys? he chided.
Traffic. It’s been a busy day. You’re not the only one, a guard remarked.
Good to hear it.
While Ralph waited on the transport platform for the next Grav-Rail train, flanked by the two guards, he took one last look at the building that had once housed his mighty employer. The massive pocket watch logo above the front entrance flickered ominously, portent of TIC’s future.
I’ll get you home somehow, Cynda. I swear I won’t leave you there.