Biding Time- the Chestnut Covin

by E W Barnes

  “So, not a historian,” Sharon began.

  “Oh, yes, I started out as a chrono-historian. Then the Temporal Protection Corps recruited me as an agent.”

  “The Commander part?”

  “I advanced to the rank of Commander recently,” she answered.

  Sharon turned to Caelen.

  “You knew.” It was not a question.

  “Commander Sprucewood was one of my trainers in the field.” Caelen looked like someone caught in the middle. Sharon felt anger swelling, made worse by the sticky heat. Before she could say anything, further Richard returned with a tray full of glasses of cold iced tea and freshly baked cornmeal muffins with melting butter.

  “Will there be anything else, Miss Rose?”

  “That will be all Richard, please convert to voice interface for now,” Rose said, and Richard vanished. Sharon nearly dropped her glass.

  “It was a holographic image generated by the temporal amplifier,” Caelen said to Sharon, sounding relieved that he could explain something to her. “It acts as an interface with the Temporal Protection Corps mainframe.”

  “Like the remote control?”

  “Yes, but more sophisticated,” Caelen nodded.

  “Remote control?” Commander Sprucewood asked.

  “The portable interface unit,” Caelen said as Sharon pulled it out of her pocket and handed it to her. “Remote control is our nickname for it.”

  “I see,” Commander Sprucewood said. She set down her drink and turned the remote in her hand, examining it, before she handed it back to Sharon. Then she steepled her fingers in front of her chin.

  “Agent Winters is correct. Richard is much more sophisticated than the portable unit. He also serves as security when needed. If I had not introduced you to him when we entered, he would have initiated a security protocol to protect me. As it was, I communicated the code that made it clear he could reveal his true nature. Otherwise, he would have stayed in holographic mode for the duration of your visit.” She took another sip of tea. “An excellent function when receiving guests unaware of holograms - or time travel.”

  “You gave it a name,” Caelen said.

  “Yes, well, Temporal Amplifier Holographic Interface and Security Program is a mouthful, isn’t it?”

  Caelen chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

  “Wait,” Sharon interrupted. “Does the temporal amplifier in the bookcases have a… a Richard too? “

  Caelen looked uncomfortable again. “It does, but it was deactivated.”

  “Why?” Sharon demanded.

  “I don’t know… I assumed Commander Sprucewood… uh… your grandmother did it.”

  “What about Mrs. Bower, the hologram that appeared in my living room?”

  “I think it was a onetime appearance programmed by Commander Sprucewood, your grandmother.”

  No, not ‘Grandmother’ she thought. She did not know this woman. Like Kevin was not her grandfather, this woman was not her grandmother. That distinction made it easier to deal with what she realized was the most surreal experience of her life. She had to stifle an angry laugh. Just a short while ago she thought she was getting used to this time travel thing.

  “Commander Sprucewood. Mrs. Bower. Grandmother. I don’t know what to call you. Who are you? What are you doing here? What the hell is going on?”

  She was tired of surprises, tired of information being shared piecemeal, tired of feeling like she didn’t understand what was happening, and tired of feeling afraid. The anger was pouring out of her. Her eyes narrowed, her tone was sarcastic and demanding, her body tensed as if readying for battle.

  “What do you do in your time?”

  The question was quiet and unexpected.

  “What?”

  “What do you do? What is your passion? How do you choose to spend your time?”

  “I… uh, I don’t know… I am a writer, a journalist.”

  “I see.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Sharon asked, but Commander Sprucewood cut her off.

  “The time Caelen and I come from is very much like a utopia,” Rose said.

  “So I have heard,” Sharon said.

  “You come from a kind of utopia, too.”

  “What are you talking about?” Poverty, homelessness, disease, greed, corruption, all still exist in my time, she wanted to say. Hardly a utopia.

  “When we’re out tonight, observe the people you are sharing this time with. They are under threat of one the most horrible events in human history, one that could annihilate the entire world. There are still places where people are legally discriminated against because their skin color is a different shade than those in power. Around the world blood is being spilled at this moment, and it will get worse before it gets better.

  “The struggles of these people will resonate into your time, making your world a better place. In the same way, the struggles of people in your time will make our world a better place.

  “What I am doing here is making sure those struggles are not derailed. The real question is, what are you doing here?”

  Sharon was taken aback. “I… you… my grandmother asked me to help after she died. To fix errors in the timeline.”

  She nodded and held out her hand. “Call me Rose. And that’s what she asked me to do, too.”

  As they talked the room darkened. There was a low rumble outside. A summer thunderstorm thwarted Sharon’s prediction about the afternoon’s heat, cooling the air and dissipating Sharon’s frustration.

  ◆◆◆

  When they had finished their iced tea, Rose invited them upstairs to a wood-paneled study dominated by a large desk in the room's center. Sharon felt her skin tingling as she entered the room and the reason soon became obvious. Rose opened the main drawer of the desk and tapped a hidden keypad. The top of the desk transformed into the control panel of a temporal amplifier.

  “Another hologram,” Sharon murmured nodding.

  “I was examining the timeline to see if my marriage to Kevin - your grandfather - would have any impact that might resonate into the future. As a precaution, I traveled to the future, meeting with myself - your grandmother - to make sure our marriage did not impact history.”

  “How can you do that?” Sharon asked, trying to wrap her head around conferring with one’s future self the validity of something one’s future self had already experienced. “Isn’t that like a… uh… circular logic thing?”

  “The temporal amplifier protects against paradox,” Rose answered as she scanned the screen on the control panel. She lowered herself into a leather desk chair, not taking her eyes off the screen.

  “While I was visiting with… myself, she told me about the errors in the timeline she had been monitoring. Rather than break her agreement with the TPC by contacting it, she asked me to investigate it. She also told me she would leave a message for you, Sharon, as a backup plan. I assume that is why you are here, yes?”

  She looked up from her screen as Sharon and Caelen nodded. Rose continued.

  “Tonight’s gala event is a fundraiser for food and medicine for the people of Cuba. Earlier this year due to growing international hostilities, President Kennedy cut off all trade with the island except for basic needs, and this group is looking to ease the suffering of Cuban citizens. The gala is being hosted by a group called Humanitarian America.”

  “When we researched Humanitarian America, we couldn’t find any reference to it online,” Sharon volunteered.

  Rose looked surprised.

  “Do you think it’s possible the records might have been lost or not uploaded to the internet?”

  “Yes, I suppose so,” Sharon answered. “That would suggest that the group did not make enough of an impact to merit an internet footprint in my time.”

  “A reasonable assessment. In two months, the Bay of Pigs crisis will take place. It is possible that confrontation limited the group’s ability to achieve its mission in Cuba. It may have disbanded or refocus
ed its mission. Let’s be sure. Richard, give me a full history of the charity Humanitarian America, including chrono-historical data.”

  “I am sorry Miss Rose, there is no information available other than the contemporaneous data you are accessing now.” It was Richard’s voice, as if the hologram was standing in the room with them and he had not re-materialized.

  “I don’t understand,” Caelen said as Rose’s eyebrows lifted high on her forehead.

  “What is it? What does it mean?” Sharon asked. It was Caelen who answered as Rose typed into the keyboard. From outside came the sound of heavy rain.

  “The Temporal Amplifier Holographic Interface and Security Program, uh, Richard, has access to all historical data from all times in real time. It is unusual that a query would come back with no data.”

  “What do you mean from all times? You mean Richard has information from the future… from your future as well from now and the past?”

  “That’s exactly what it means,” Rose answered as she looked up from the control panel.

  “There are two possibilities: There is either no data on this group or the database is malfunctioning.”

  “Or someone erased the data,” Sharon added.

  “That is improbable,” Rose answered. “The system has redundant safeguards built in to protect from tampering or accidental mishaps.”

  Before Sharon could respond, Richard spoke up again now appearing in his holographic form. “Miss Rose, you asked to be notified when it was time to prepare for the gala event. That time is now.”

  “Right. Thank you, Richard. The plan for this evening is to attend the gala as guests. Richard has procured invitations for us, and we can move freely through the crowd, scan for anachronisms, and find and correct the error.”

  “We had thought we might see if we could get work as staff, to better blend in, you know, sort of disappear,” Caelen started.

  “Sorry Agent Winters. It will be a tux and schmooze night for you,” Rose smiled as Richard handed him a hanger with his attire for the evening protected by a suit bag. To Sharon he handed a second hanger, a long dress wrapped in plastic hanging from it. She could see it was a dark color.

  “Miss Rose, your dress is in your room as requested.”

  “Thank you, Richard. Please show Agent Winters to the guest room so he can change. Sharon, you can change in my room.”

  ◆◆◆

  Richard and Caelen left the study, and Sharon followed Rose up another flight of stairs to the third floor of the townhouse. The entire floor consisted of two bedrooms on either side of the staircase, both with their own bathrooms and sitting areas. Sharon could hear Richard and Caelen talking in the room off to the left as she followed Rose into the room on the right.

  It was as beautifully decorated as the parlor and study had been, this time in soft blues.

  “What a lovely room.” Sharon said.

  “The Temporal Protection Corps manages this safe house,” Rose said as she went to an armoire and extracted a dress of pale pink silk. “It assigns a chrono- historian to ensure all furnishings, wardrobes, foodstuffs, etc., are correct for the time period for all TPC safe houses and in-time locations.”

  “They assigned you as the chrono-historian for this house, didn't they?”

  Rose looked surprised. “How did you know?”

  Sharon shrugged. “I thought I recognized your style.”

  Rose nodded. “The TPC valued my knowledge and attention to details related to the 20th century. That is why I was recruited as an agent and they argued against it when I announced I wanted to marry and retire here. They didn't want to lose me.” She laid the dress on the bed and sat looking at Sharon.

  “Your grandparents are dead in your time frame, yes? This must be hard for you.”

  Sharon watched the rain outside the window and then looked at the dress in her arms.

  “Where do I change?”

  “You may use the bathroom,” Rose nodded to the door behind Sharon. The bathroom was as beautiful as the bedroom with white marble on the floor and pale aqua on the walls. It surprised her to find her dress was silk, too, in a rich midnight blue. It was a modern style, sleeveless, tailored and crisp.

  “The dress is beautiful,” she said as she opened the bathroom door. “What should I do with my hair? Should I leave it loose?”

  Rose was slipping on pale pink pumps. “We can ask Richard to help,” she said, as Richard appeared in the doorway.

  “Certainly,” Richard said. “I have just finished helping Agent Winters with his bow tie.”

  Sharon sat on the bed as Richard combed out her hair and pinned it up with what looked like 100 bobby pins.

  “Did you know Kevin, the man you’re going to marry, tried to kill me?”

  “No, I didn’t know.” Rose no longer seemed the confident “commander.” Now she was a would-be newlywed, facing the loss of her bridegroom. “Tell me what happened.”

  Sharon winced as Richard placed a bobby pin, and then told Rose about seeing Kevin after the earthquake, in the park, and the break-in of her apartment. She described meeting Kevin, and his attacking her and sending them into a parallel timeline. Rose listened in silence.

  Richard had finished her hair in an elegant up-do, taller toward the back of her head, perfectly matching the period look of her dress. After looking at herself in the mirror, she felt more confident about blending in.

  “The car is ready, Miss Rose,” Richard said as Sharon put on the midnight blue pumps Rose handed to her, followed by small clip-on earrings of clustered pearls.

  There were two matching handbags on a table by the door, one pale pink, one dark blue. Sharon stored the remote control and her phone in the blue one, clutching it close. She did not want to set it down and forget it. Rose handed her a pair of long white gloves which Sharon slid onto her hands awkwardly.

  The rain had stopped, and the clouds were breaking up into the beginnings of a stunning sunset. Richard held an umbrella over them, in case of errant drops, and Sharon entered the car behind Rose, followed by Caelen. One last rumble of thunder faded into the distance.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  As Rose pulled the car into traffic, Sharon recognized it as a 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air, the car her grandmother had loved to talk about. She watched Rose deftly maneuver the huge and heavy vehicle, her hands rotating the large steering wheel. Where she turned, the big car followed.

  Caelen tugged as his collar, trying to pull the stiff white shirt away from his neck. The bow tie did not give him much room.

  “You still dislike getting dressed up, don’t you,” Rose said laughing. “Do you still hate rain, too?”

  “Yes, I do,” Caelen said as Sharon laughed.

  “How long have you known each other?” Sharon asked.

  “Agent Winters joined the TPC three years after I did. I had advanced in rank to Commander by then and was serving as an instructor in the training academy,” Rose answered.

  “What did she teach? Interior decorating 101?” Sharon joked. Caelen shook his head.

  “She taught temporal assimilation and infiltration.”

  “You and your brother did well in that class. It is a shame he dropped out. Did he ever reapply?”

  Caelen reddened and only managed a “No.” There was an uncomfortable silence.

  “Why name the interface ‘Richard’,” Sharon asked to change the subject.

  “I named it after a friend of mine,” Rose answered. “We were in TPC training together. He was lost in a temporal amplifier accident.”

  “Oh, I am sorry,” Sharon said. “Did he look like the interface Richard?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “How did he die? What kind of accident was it?”

  Rose sighed.

  “Officially, it was an error in programming the temporal coordinates,” Rose’s voice was brittle. “The TPC concluded that Richard entered the wrong coordinates which resulted in a kind of brain damage. We call it temporal aberration disord
er.”

  “He got TAD?” Caelen asked.

  “What does that mean?” Sharon asked.

  “It causes memory loss, visions, hallucinations, both visual and aural. In some people it can cause violent behavior and paranoia. Others just drift away and stop recognizing things and people around them.”

  “It is very rare,” Caelen added.

  “Yes. His was the only case in 100 years,” Rose nodded.

  “Were you able to cure him?” Sharon asked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer.

  Rose shook her head.

  “We never got the chance. In a moment of violent delusion, he accessed a temporal amplifier and fled to the past. We never found the exact date. We only know it was centuries ago. By now he is long gone.”

  “You said the official explanation was an error in programming. What do you really think?” Sharon thought she already knew the answer.

  “I believe it was sabotage. I have no proof, so the official explanation stands.”

  They crossed the Potomac River into northern Virginia. Soon after they turned onto a smaller road, surrounded by thick trees with twinkling lights in the distance. A mid-century modern home sat on several acres of woodland at the end of a long, winding drive. Sharon had expected to see antebellum mansion rather than the low, angular home that met her eyes.

  As they pulled up, a man in a tuxedo opened the door, helping each of the ladies out and directing the group up a flight of stairs to the house. As they climbed the stairs, another man in a tuxedo parked the car at the end of a long row of cars under the trees.

  At the top of the stairs they joined a line of people at the front door. Sharon could see warm wood paneling inside the house and could not see their host until she was within a few feet of him.

  “Welcome, thank you very much for coming,” he said as he kissed the back of Rose’s gloved hand. “I am Lloyd Quill, Chairman of Humanitarian America.”

  “Rose Sprucewood,” Rose answered. “This is Sharon Gorse and Caelen Winters. We are delighted to be here and thank you for your good work on behalf of the people of Cuba.”