“There’s more that you’re not telling me,” it says.
“I slipped into the future. Apparently I’m going to kill someone. Also, Grayson is going to kill me. So. Got a lot to look forward to.”
“Do we know for sure it’s going to happen?”
“What do you mean?”
“The block universe model and free will are not necessarily incompatible,” Ruby says. “Remember, we are as yet unable to travel into the future. Some, including Dorothy Simms, have speculated that’s because the future isn’t set the same way the past is. It is possible that the future timeline is a little more fluid. And it is also possible that the timeline will adjust—or rather, has already adjusted—to incorporate any changes you might make.”
“Doesn’t that throw the block model out the window then?”
“Yes and no. It is possible that all future possibilities exist until a decision is made. So what you see in a slip resembles a possible course of future events. Yes, changing that course of events in response to that stimulus is intuitively incompatible with the block model. However, that apparent lack of simultaneity is an artifact of our linear perceptions.”
“What if the pathway doesn’t matter as long as you reach the same outcome? I watched Kolten go into anaphylactic shock, and he died. I stopped it from happening. Who’s to say the universe won’t find another way to slit his throat?”
“It could,” Ruby says. “Or it could not. There’s no real way to tell until it happens.”
So maybe Grayson doesn’t shoot me in the head?
Or else I’ll avoid it, and slip in the shower later that night, breaking my neck.
Different pathway, same outcome.
I throw my hands into the air. “Time travel!”
“Indeed,” Ruby says.
At this point there’s too much rattling around in my head, including now whether or not the elevator was even going to fail, so I put it aside and move over to the whiteboard installed on the wall. Allyn wants me to take a step back? Fine. Let the foot soldiers deal with the shit on the ground. This is a chance to consider the bigger picture.
This whiteboard is my happy place. My space to think. I need visuals. I need information in front of me. I pick up the red marker and yank the cap off with my teeth, the chemical smell of it stinging my nose in the most pleasant way possible.
Start at the top. The most pressing issues.
Summit, Westin, snow, time.
It’s not worth ranking them, because they all suck in different and unique ways. I feel like there’s something missing and then remember, oh right, there are dinosaurs in the basement. So I add that to the list.
Summit, Westin, snow, time, dinosaurs.
Next, the suspect list. Someone broke into our system. Someone is erasing video and trying to hide a thing they did. Someone is trying to kill the other guests.
Teller, Davis, MKS, Smith.
Then, Drucker. I’m not na?ve. Government and trillionaires are intertwined at their roots. If one of them is trying to game the process, I fully expect to find that she’s at least aware, if not involved.
So who broke into our system? I’m sure any one of these four could afford a threat-level nerd capable of the task. But the fact that Kolten is a computer whiz—besides him taking control of Ruby—makes me wonder about him a little more.
I add x’s next to Smith, Davis, and MKS, because I’ve thwarted attempts on all of their lives. Nothing with Teller though. Which is interesting. There’s still time. Or maybe he’s the one orchestrating this.
The next name, I don’t feel good about adding. I consider whether or not I even should. But I realize I have to. The Westin thing demands it.
Danbridge.
Money can do strange things to people. It can make them compromise themselves and their values. Maybe he’s tired of a hard day’s work for a half-ass government paycheck. Or maybe it was something else that’s getting tied into this, but until I can prove otherwise, I have to be careful about what I say around him.
I add: Eshe, Grayson, Warwick. Just so I keep them on my brain. I roll over my desk chair and position it in front of the whiteboard. Sit and lean back and put my bare feet on the wall. Stare at the board for a little bit. Like the letters are going to re-form into some kind of answer. Something to tell me what’s going on.
They don’t. But they never do.
So what else do I know?
Davis is a nut. Smith wants this place to mine the past for data or save the planet or something, but he also thinks this hotel has a secret room. There’s a lot he’s not telling me. Didn’t MKS say something about Teller not being able to afford this place?
“Hey, Ruby, what’s the deal with Teller’s finances?”
Ruby responds: “A recent report in Forbes says his net worth is not nearly as high as he is reporting. It’s possible he may have actually lost his trillionaire status. He, of course, insists this is inaccurate.”
That goes on the pile of things.
“Do you suspect him?” Ruby asks.
“It’s trending that way,” I say. “Though he’s a piece of shit, so his reputation is probably shading my judgment. Same with Kolten, and his little freak-out in the restaurant. That didn’t exactly score him any points. I get a good vibe off Davis and the prince. Which makes me suspect them less. But that’s always a mistake.”
Ruby says, “Despite bin Saud’s genial nature, there is the issue of Nura Fayed, a Saudi dissident and journalist who was critical of his leadership and suddenly went missing two months ago. And Davis did make his fortune through private equity investment.”
“What’s that?”
“He invests in companies, then essentially strip-mines them. Eliminating departments and outsourcing production. While a few of those companies have gone on to be quite successful, for most of them, it means employees are laid off, and lose their healthcare and pensions. Even then, he creates quite a bit of debt but still walks away having made a profit.”
“Well, I was right about one thing,” I say. “No such thing as a nice trillionaire.”
I stare at the board a little more. The words go fuzzy. My head tilts forward, and then I jerk it back and it wakes me up. I’m tired. I should sleep, but I don’t want to. Not now. The hairs on my neck are standing. Like there’s someone hovering behind me. I’m being ridiculous. There’s no one in this room but me and Ruby. And Ruby barely counts.
But still, I hazard a peek over my shoulder…
Nothing.
The springs creak as I lean back in the chair and stare at the ceiling.
“What’s the value of this place?” I ask Ruby.
“Monetary value? Do you mean in terms of current operating costs?”