Here and Now and Then

by Mike Chen

  Except the time for inner contemplation had ended.

  The car motored down the off-ramp, one exit before the airport. No particular destination came to mind as long as it was a quiet and safe street. Kin veered through the industrial section until he got to an area of empty business parks neatly lined up against one another. He pulled into a brightly lit but empty parking lot and settled the car to a halt.

  “The next part is up to you.” Kin reached into the glove box and pulled out the package of materials Markus had prepared for Miranda. Things that were impossible to accurately replicate in twenty-one-A—security seals, hologram patches—could simply be printed in the modern era. Markus, who falsified records as part of his job, often joked about how easy it was to create people, and now he had proof. “Passport. New identity. Birth certificate. Cash. Prepaid credit card. Basic paperwork and life history. Penny’s brother has hacked official records to match. You exist, or at least this person does. Oh, and we bought a wig for you on our way to Davis.” He handed the stack over. “Wherever you want to start a new life, you can. And when you get there, lay low for at least a few months. No social media, cover your face with sunglasses and hats as much as possible. After that, time and distance should keep you safe as long as you don’t give them a reason to believe you’re not you.”

  Miranda put aside the bob wig and flipped open the passport. “So now I’m—”

  “No.” The seat belt stretched as he turned to the back seat, palm up. “I can’t know your name. I can’t know your destination. I can’t know anything. It’s safer that way. Use that phone to call a cab for the airport. Buy your ticket, and go anywhere you want. It’s a little past nine. You’ll still have plenty of flights to pick from.”

  “My first step into a larger world,” Miranda said while thumbing through her new life story. “Nice.” Her face finally broke from its stoic mask, her mannerisms betraying a wistful melancholy over the smile on her lips. “Part of me still wonders if this is all a dream. Or maybe I got my drink spiked at dinner. I’m tripping right now, right?”

  “I’ve felt that way for a few days,” Penny said.

  “It’s just...” Miranda had maintained her tough shell, only allowing brief bursts of emotion to bleed through. With a new identity in her hand and the airport mere minutes away, the weight of reality must have applied too much pressure for her shields. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to figure out who you are. My project was like a therapy session wrapped in code. I finally have a chance.” Her eyelids dropped, and then her brow squeezed, forcing little cracks to appear on either side. “Can’t we, like, go get coffee together or something? Or you guys come wait at the airport with me? I mean, I just got you back,” she said, her voice fighting through the words.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Penny offered quietly.

  Life-or-death situations weren’t anything new to Kin. Nor were permanent decisions. He knew how they felt, the wavering, the wanting more—the things training prepared someone for, only solidified through experience. This day, this mission, was about saving Miranda. His feelings didn’t matter. “We can’t take the risk. The TCB might spot us anywhere. Especially at the airport. If there’s one place we’d get seen, it’d be there. They’re not all-powerful, but they’re smart. They don’t have the resources to process everything all the time, so they’ll scan for identity recognition in the geographic and temporal vicinity of an anomaly. They say there are at least seven people in the world at any time who look like you. Facial recognition is only one of the flags. That’s why the airport is the finish line. Once you’re away with your new identity and Markus falsifies your death records, there’s no reason for them to keep looking. If everyone believes you’re dead, they’ll move on.” Kin sighed, palms rubbing his face. “Then you can, too. You’ve got to be inconspicuous here, though, and having us with you only heightens the risk. Wear the wig, wear your sunglasses whenever possible, don’t look up at any security cameras. One wrong move before we get there, and this is all for nothing.”

  “All for nothing,” Miranda said. She held up the passport. “What if I want to assume that risk? So I can do something with my dad one last time?”

  “I...” Kin’s seat belt snagged as he turned back around. He pulled on it over and over until it finally loosened and sprang back taut. For Miranda that last meal together was more than a decade ago. It probably existed in flashes and smells, vague shapes and sounds. In Kin’s memory things were a little more vivid, the details sharper and the volume louder.

  For him it had only been a year ago, the gravity of everything capable of pulling the moon out of orbit. So what did it possibly mean for Miranda? “I—”

  “I don’t think this is your call,” Penny interrupted. “This is your daughter’s life. Like you said, she has a choice.”

  “I’d rather take a chance for this moment than spend the rest of my next life regretting it.” Miranda’s uncertainty gave way to something different now, a maturity mixed with the defiance that powered her words. She stared into the rearview mirror, the reflection of her eyes meeting his. “I need a chance to get to know you.”

  Kin wasn’t like Markus. He didn’t toe the company line with precision. He found rules to be guidelines, not unbreakable barriers. Still, this decision came with the highest risk.

  And it was a risk that Miranda wanted to take.

  After all they’d been through, he no longer steered this ship. His daughter did. “Well, then,” he said, turning the key, “where should we go?”

  “Actually—” Miranda pointed toward the passenger side “—it sounds like there’s something Penny wants to try.”

  Kin had originally planned on being safely at the jump point with Penny by midnight. That would set them well within the window of when the TCB couldn’t detect their jump; Penny would get safely home and he, well, he’d be a fifty-fifty shot at best without any immediate medical assistance.

  Instead, they found themselves at an all-night fried chicken hut, picked bones and side dishes spread out on the table before them. The conversation didn’t dwell on impossible futures or woeful pasts; instead, it might have been any family dinner, all happening with an ease that seemed like Kin had been there for Miranda’s full life, not only half, and Penny was a permanent fixture, not a mere flash in the night sky.

  They sat in the corner booth, faces covered by hats and high collars to minimize security risks. Despite the garb, Penny’s smile was unmistakable. “I can’t believe this food is legal.”

  “Dad hardly ever let us get it. He always insisted he could cook something better.” Her voice dropped in pitch and she waved a mocking finger. “‘Do you think the people on Home Chef Challenge eat this stuff?’”

  “Home Chef Challenge?”

  “A TV show I wanted to try out for.” The gentle mocking led to laughter around the table, an impossible moment in time that couldn’t be captured again except in memories. “And it’s true. I doubt Home Chef Challenge contestants eat this. It’s terrible for you.”

  “It feels so bad for you, but it’s so good. The MOME exhibit doesn’t even come close.”

  Miranda and Kin carried the same bemused expression as Penny excused herself to look at the desserts. “So you go back to September eighteenth? Two thousand, one hundred, and forty-two,” she said, her voice changing to a deep tone for each part of the future year before shifting back to normal. “It sounds so ridiculous to say that. I love it. So, what happens then?”

  The return date. Classified knowledge. Kin’s eyes went wide despite his best efforts to stay cool. “How did you know that?”

  “Penny told me.”

  Kin could almost hear Markus freaking out about rules and corruption and guidelines. What was done was done, and Penny was lucky that her brother had to create a fiery fake-death-by-car accident rather than see her stomping over space-time boundaries. “She shouldn’t ha
ve. Timeline corruption.”

  “Okay, what happens when you two go home to—” her fingers formed quotation marks “—‘the future’? Resume life? Wedding plans? God, you must be good at that. Penny’s restaurant? She mentioned getting a loan for that.”

  “Yeah,” Kin said, after a long silence. “Something like that.”

  Miranda squinted, thoughts in motion as she bit down on her lip. “No.” Her fingernail began a small rhythmic tap against the table. “No. Something’s off.”

  “It’s fine—”

  “One of the first things you taught me about soccer was how to scan the other players. Their body might go one way even if they’re looking another. There’s always a little tell to figure out when they try to head-fake you, you said. Their posture or looking at their teammate or whatever. That’s what you taught me when I was little, and I learned to use it my whole life, even after I quit soccer.” She leaned forward, meeting him nearly eye to eye. “My bullshit detector. It’s strong. And you’re bullshitting me right now. You always either respond right away, like you’ve prepared a speech. Or you take too long, like you’re drawing a blank. Either way you’re hiding something. I sensed it when Penny was talking to Mom.”

  Bullshit detector. Everything about Miranda caused him to beam with admiration; if she had flaws, he certainly couldn’t figure them out now. “The thing is,” he said, glancing behind him, “I may not make it back alive.”

  Miranda sat, quiet and unblinking, the only sound coming from across the room as Penny inquired about the different desserts. “Are they coming for you?” she finally asked. “Will they be waiting to kill you, too?”

  “Maybe. But that’s not it. The human body’s not meant to time travel. We support it with a bunch of different medications. My body’s worse off than most because I was stuck here for so long. There’s an injection I need after I jump back.” His posture, which remained rigid and taut like an agent taking the field, began to slump as he explained the smashed syringe.

  Miranda gradually sank in her seat before she shot back up with bright eyes. “Penny. Can’t she help you? Like call an ambulance when you get there?”

  “Penny is many things, but she’s not a doctor. And an ambulance is all sorts of rule-breaking. But hey,” he said, forcing out a smile, “you never know, right? Maybe my body decides it’s got enough juice for one last go. We land, we’re safe, we get married, and no one is the wiser.”

  A sway took over Miranda’s shoulders, the smallest rocking to an unheard rhythm back and forth. He couldn’t see it, though he knew she’d begun tapping her foot beneath the table. “Does she know?”

  “No.” The word came out with force.

  Penny returned, bringing a silence over father and daughter. “You two sure you don’t want anything?”

  Miranda’s snappy response covered up their grim discussion. “Trust me, the desserts are never good at fast food places.”

  “That might be,” she said, “but a good historian researches her subject.” Penny flashed a wide beam before returning to the counter. She leaned over, pointing to various items on the glowing display.

  “Dad, you should tell her.”

  “I can’t do that. I can’t burden her with that. Not after everything we’ve been through. She has to have faith to get through this. I have years of training—this is all new to her.”

  “This isn’t about faith.” Miranda shook her head and gave him an unblinking stare. “This is about honesty. Knowing what you’re getting into.”

  Penny returned with tray in hand, three small cardboard boxes subtly moving with each step. “I know, I know,” she said as she set it on the table. “It’s a might excessive. I figured, when else am I going to get the chance to try the real thing, right?” She slid back into the booth, planting a quick kiss on Kin’s cheek and handing over plastic forks. “And I got a chocolate chip cookie for you. Come on, we’ll share. Family style.”

  Miranda sent a knowing look his way, one that came and went so quickly it might have been a figment of his imagination. The glint of regret disappeared, replaced with a rosy grin sent Penny’s way, and maybe that was Miranda’s way of shielding her father from the inevitable.

  * * *

  They waited in silence. Ten minutes had passed since Miranda called a cab and gathered the few things they’d packed for her to take into her new life. They watched while she stood on the corner, counting down to the cab’s imminent arrival.

  Kin thought those final moments would be filled with heart-wrenching torment, a scratching and clawing to get one more second together. Yet while the emotions ran deep and the words came out a little blubbery, it lacked the drama of a Hollywood film.

  Instead, he’d given her one final hug, a hold that lasted a good fifteen or twenty seconds, then dug into his bag to pull out an old copper coin. “For luck.”

  Miranda held it up, examining it under the harsh brightness of streetlamps. “This isn’t going to cause timeline corruption?”

  “No,” Kin said with a laugh, “it’s just a penny.” They hugged again and a different kind of instinct surfaced, a parenting reflex reaching out. “You said you spent your whole life trying to figure out who I am. I’m sorry I can’t give you more of me.”

  “You know what?” A clarity shone through Miranda’s eyes, a deep and tangible focus tempered with the confidence that only wisdom could bring. “I know you’re the type of person that will do anything to save the people he loves.” She glanced at Penny, then returned to him. “In the end, that’s all I need.”

  Kin nodded, his legs weak despite the ground solidly beneath his feet. “It doesn’t go both ways, though. Whoever you become, whoever is in those papers, I can never know. I feel like I should ask you the four questions,” he said as she blinked back tears. “But that, that would be all sorts of timeline corruption.”

  “What are the four questions?” Penny asked.

  “When she was old enough to go places on her own, we came up with a list of things we needed to know before she left.”

  “The questions.” Miranda leaned in to give Penny a hug. “I’m having flashbacks now. Well, if I can’t tell you, then you tell me. First question—where are you going?”

  “We shouldn’t say anything,” Kin said. “Timeline corr—”

  “That place in Santa Cruz,” Penny blurted out, her voice muffled with her head still buried in Miranda’s shoulder. She let go of her stepdaughter-to-be, then hooked her arm around Kin’s waist. “You said you used to go hiking there.”

  “Point Davies?” Miranda asked.

  Kin’s fingers squeezed into fists, every word exchanged working opposite his agent directives. “Turns out, the reason I knew it so well is because it’s a TCB jump point. I’d just forgotten.”

  “Who’s going to be there?” The questions were directed to Kin, despite Miranda watching Penny’s reaction the whole time.

  “No one.” The answer seemed neutral enough. “Just us.”

  “What time will you be home?”

  “We can’t say. And really, we wouldn’t know.”

  A gust of wind blew past; Penny shivered and hugged herself before locking on to Kin’s arm. “I’d like to see a sunrise from there. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  Miranda opened her mouth for the fourth and final question and stopped midway. In the cold night breeze, he watched her huff air out to form small clouds that dissolved away. “In case,” she started. Her lips pursed, and she turned away for a moment before recentering herself. “In case of emergency, is there anything I need to know?”

  “No,” he said. He met Miranda’s eyes, his stoic surface covering up the creeping fear that he refused to acknowledge. “We’ll be fine.” His fingers drummed for a moment before taking Penny’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “And you, you shouldn’t give up on your dream. A new identity doesn’t change who
you are.”

  They had their final goodbyes and another round of embraces before Kin and Penny sat back in the car so Miranda could catch her ride without any threat of time travelers captured on the cab’s security camera. The taxi pulled into the parking lot, and Kin’s breath stopped as he scanned the situation before him for possible threats.

  What if they’d been caught? What if Markus let things slip or they’d been tailed or somehow someone found out? The questions repeated over and over.

  Then Miranda stood up straight, looked their way and gave a wave, and then got in the back seat. The cab pulled away, and as it passed, he could see she tracked them in return, her hands flattened against the window.

  Not that long ago, he’d left his daughter for her own safety. This time he sent her away.

  “Hey,” Penny said. She leaned over and, despite the cramped quarters of the car, enveloped him in her arms. “You all right?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.” And he was, at least in regard to Miranda. He’d never know what happened to her, never know the name she assumed or the life that she’d led. He only knew that he was there for her when it mattered. He’d swerved her away from certain doom and toward a second chance.

  That was enough.

  “Okay, then. Let’s go home.”

  “Right,” Kin said, starting the car. He stared straight ahead while the engine revved to its full power. “Let’s go home.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Miranda’s words weighed heavily on him, reinforcing his urge to tell Penny what happened with the stabilizer injection. The truth was inevitable. The only issue was how and when.

  “I’ve got it,” Penny yelled as they’d reached the grove that doubled as the launch point. Her voice echoed up and down, all around through the cool night air. She grabbed Kin, her hands gripping his arms. “I’ve got it. I’ve figured it out.”

  Kin and Penny had hiked back through the Santa Cruz mountains, Penny’s steps taking on nearly a victory-lap gallop. Other than a brief nap on the car ride, she’d chattered at a breakneck pace: Miranda was so great; time travel—wow!—and Markus had concerns, but they showed him; what kind of excitement they had, what a crown adventure, something that could bond them in a way no other couple might experience, and who needed a honeymoon after that!