"Something called the Virtual City project. Do you know about it?” Maybe she'd even walked through it.
"Annie told me about it,” Pam advised. Annie must be her Assistant. “She's happy to be talking to Jeannie again."
"Yeah, Jeannie's thrilled, too.” I gave Pam a speculative look. She lived way uptime from me. “I guess you could tell me how the project comes out."
She grinned back at me. “Could. Won't."
Because TIs don't share things they know about other TIs’ futures. That's the rule anyway, though I know of TIs who've broken it, either to help another TI or because they want to mess up another TI. “I hope the fact that you're smiling means nothing serious happens to me."
Pam looked away, studying the buildings around us. “Serious? I don't know. Harmful, no, I don't know of anything like that."
Enigmatic at best, but she didn't seem willing to go into more detail and I couldn't press her on the issue. “So what brings a nice girl like you to a here and now like this?"
"Boston? Boston's full of nice girls here and now,” Pam replied.
"Not down by the docks."
"I wouldn't know. I'm not a sailor."
"Are you doing an Intervention you can't talk about?"
She shook her head. “No. Data collection. I need to be in Lexington the day after tomorrow."
"The day after tomorrow? The nineteenth? That's the day.” I gave her a frankly skeptical look. “Data collection? Lexington on 19 April 1775 has more bugs planted in it than the Amazon rainforest. There's still something they haven't got even in your time?"
Pam nodded. “The shot."
"The shot?"
"The shot."
I got it then. The ‘shot heard ‘round the world.’ Two forces facing each other, American militia and British regulars, both ordered not to fire unless fired upon. A shot rings out from somewhere, and both sides start shooting. The start of the American Revolution. But who fired that first shot? “They still haven't found the shooter?"
"Nope.” Pam spread her hands in frustration. “It wasn't from either of the forces on the Green. They've tried triangulating, but the sound echoes and reechoes in weird ways. It can't be tied to any window or door or open area. Sound analysis says it's a gunshot of some kind, but can't identify any weapon, of this period or any other, that matches it. So I'm planting more gear to try to nail down the spot and find the person responsible.” She caught my expression. “What's the matter?"
"Lexington then and there is full of TIs and crazies from a half dozen centuries, Pam. They must be tripping over each other. I'm just worried."
She smiled at me. “About me? We saved London together, remember? I'm a big girl, and unlike certain guys I know I carry heavy artillery.” Pam twitched her arm then turned her hand slightly, and I saw her pistol gleaming in her palm, all smooth curves, beautiful and deadly. A description that also matched Pam in some ways, I realized. But in good ways. Then she turned her hand again and the weapon vanished. “Thanks for caring, though."
"I just met a crazy a little while ago,” I told her. “Some Brit with a snooty attitude who called me a Yank. He's planning something."
Pam shook her head. “You mean like him?” She looked to one side where a seaman in a captain's uniform was passing. “Or her?” She turned her head and gazed at an elegant woman wearing a dress that looked like it must be worth a lot here and now. “They've all got jump mechs. Maybe one of them will take care of your Brit."
"I hope so. I swear he would've attacked me if we'd been alone. You can spot them that far away, huh?” Pam came from a century uptime from me, and had correspondingly more advanced capabilities for her Assistant.
"Yup.” She paused for a moment. “So how come you never came up to see me?"
"Because I couldn't raise the money.” Making a time jump for a date was the sort of luxury only the insanely rich indulged in, but I'd tried to see if I could swing it. “I've heard a lot of loan dealers laugh at me lately. I sure am glad we ran into each other here."
Pam gave me another smile, and I knew her Assistant had automatically analyzed my physiological reactions and told her that I was being truthful. Sometimes that's annoying, but this time I was glad she didn't have to wonder. “Same here. I couldn't afford a jump down to your time on my own."
She's not lying, Jeannie told me.
I already knew that. Pam wouldn't lie to me. I checked my internal map. “I've got about another kilometer to go this afternoon and then I get to break for the night. They don't want me wandering around in the evening with so many British soldiers all over the place watching for suspicious Colonials. Are you free?"
"Sure am.” She smiled just the way I remembered from when we'd someday meet in London, and we set off along my route, talking about this, that, and everything. I didn't notice the snooty Brit following me anymore so I stopped worrying about him and concentrated on Pam.
Pam led me back to the inn where she had a room. “How'd you manage a private room?” I wondered.
"It's small, and I paid plenty, but I couldn't exactly share.” She sighed as we entered the smoky gloom of the inn's main room. A glowing fire cast more light than the lanterns set around the room, and most of the tables were occupied by men with pipes, their earnest visages as they debated politics illuminated by the radiance from their pipe bowls. Jeannie went to work filtering the second-hand smoke out of my lungs, suppressing my sneeze reflex and curbing the irritation to my eyes so they didn't water. A good Assistant never lets you down. “Want a drink?” Pam asked.
"How's the beer here?"
"Safe enough. Not bad. Have you tried flip?"
"No. Should I?"
Pam grinned again and beckoned to a serving wench. One of the neat things about being a TI is that you actually get to be served by real serving wenches. This one had seen better days, or maybe this had just been a long day, but she smiled beguilingly at Pam, who must have appeared a pretty good-looking young man through the haze filling the air. “Flip for two,” Pam directed.
I watched doubtfully as the woman broke three eggs into a big mug, added some irregular brown lumps of sugar, tossed in a couple of jiggers of rum and brandy, beat the mess vigorously, then filled the mug the rest of the way with beer. Carrying the mug over to the fireplace, she yanked a glowing hot poker out of the fire and plunged it into the concoction for a few moments until foam rose up, then brought what certainly qualified as a ‘mixed drink’ to our table along with another smile for Pam.
Then she did it once more and brought me the second mug, though Pam got the smile again.
I tasted cautiously. “How dangerous is this?"
"If your shots are up to date and your Assistant is on the ball? Not very.” Pam took a big drink. “It grows on you."
"I can believe it grows in you.” I gave the server a glance where she was leaning against the bar. “If that woman could see under your cloak she'd be disappointed."
"That's me,” Pam admitted lightly. “Breaking hearts all through downtime. Usually it's men's hearts, though."
"You damn near broke mine,” I agreed.
Pam's smile disappeared. “Really?"
"Yeah. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to contact you a century uptime from me. It's not easy. There's too many ways for a message to go astray, and I needed to make sure you wouldn't see it before we'd met."
"That'd be hard to set up,” she agreed, taking another long draw on her mug. “People with TI mindsets don't pay attention to ‘do not open file until X date’ instructions. Drink your flip."
"Are you trying to get me drunk?” She laughed, because Assistants only let someone get a buzz on before they start filtering out the alcohol. We can drink pure grain alcohol all night and not feel it. “Look, about the day after tomorrow—"
Pam made a shushing gesture. “Finish your drink and we'll go up to my room to talk in private.” Then she grinned again. “Hey, I invited you to come up and this time you can."
A pair of empty mugs later I followed Pam toward the stairs after she snagged a lit lantern. A harried-looking woman intercepted us on the way to the stairs and gave me and then Pam a hard look. Pam obligingly hauled out some coins and dropped them into the woman's palm, who smiled in a way that showed teeth in serious need of dental care and hustled away. “Innkeeper,” Pam explained as we went up the narrow, steep stairs. “She thought I was trying to sneak someone else into the room."
It was common practice here and now for men to share beds just to save money. The landlady must have thought Pam was trying to sublet half of ‘his’ bed and pocket the cash. “You paid for me?"
"It was easier than worrying about her spying on us while you're up there. I'll put it on my expense account.” Pam led the way down a corridor as narrow as the staircase, to another small set of steep stairs that led up again and ended in an even narrower door. “And, Annie says no one has disturbed my room.” She pulled open the door and gestured inside. “Welcome to the Boston Palace circa 1775 C.E."
The room had a bed, a small dresser with a washbasin and cracked pitcher of water, and not much else except a small, high window in which sealed shutters made do in place of glass. Not that there was room for much more than that. Pam waved me to the bed, set the lantern on the dresser, then sat down beside me. “Annie says we're clear of bugs, even the ones you're spreading around. She's got a beautiful suite of jamming capabilities."
Sitting close to Pam, I couldn't help thinking that she had some beautiful qualities, too. Pam pulled off the wig she'd been wearing and tossed it onto the dresser, then shrugged out of the cloak. Her coat was nicely cut to still do a pretty good job of concealing her woman's figure even without the cloak. “Now, don't worry about me,” she added, her voice going back to its normal pitch now that we were alone. “I'm not going to get in anybody's way. I just need to deploy the gear and then step back and let it search for the shooter."
"At Lexington on 19 April 1775,” I added.
"Do you know any reason why anyone would be targeting me?” she asked.
"No, but there was no reason for that guy to come after me, either. I don't think he was a TI. I think he was an amateur out to change history."
"You're probably right,” Pam conceded. “Boston in April 1775 is the sort of then and there that attracts amateurs and fanatics."
"And he's here and now multiple times."
"You're kidding! What an idiot,” Pam observed.
"You didn't seem that worried about running into yourself when we'll be in London,” I pointed out.
"Of course I was. I just didn't want to admit that to some guy I'd just met. But this nutcase isn't after me. You keep your eye out for him and relax about me. I'm not in any more danger than you are."
That wasn't exactly reassuring. “You asked me up here just to tell me that?” I probably sounded a little angry and I was. I wanted Pam to take my worries seriously.
"Not just for that.” She leaned over slightly, her shoulder brushing mine.
It felt comfortable up here, and the flip had left me with a happy buzz. I'd spent a lot of nights thinking about Pam, and here she was sitting beside me. Sitting real close beside me.
Pam looked over at me for a long moment, then stood up and peeled off her coat, dropping it onto the small dresser. When I'd first seen her well over a hundred years from now she'd been wearing clothes appropriate for an Edwardian English lady, which weren't exactly revealing. The cloak and coat she'd been wearing today didn't show much of what was underneath either. But now, though the light from the lantern wasn't great, it was plenty good enough to reveal that Pam looked very good in tight breeches.
She turned back to face me, caught my gaze and raised an eyebrow. “Care to share your thoughts?"
Since I was wearing tight breeches, too, she probably knew exactly what I was thinking. I just couldn't tell how she felt about it, but as John Paul Jones said (or would say in about twenty years or so) ‘he who will not risk cannot win.’ “I'm thinking I wish I didn't have to go back to the room I've got."
"Worried about British sentries?” Pam asked innocently.
Jeannie chose that moment to pipe up. Her breathing is speeding up.
Thanks. Now go into passive mode. “Not really. I'd just like to stay here with you tonight,” I told Pam.
Her lips curved in a slow smile. “I was hoping you'd help me get out of all of these buttons. Just make sure you don't rip any. I need to wear this stuff again tomorrow, and I hate sewing."
As it turned out, I did rip a couple toward the end, but by that point Pam was as eager to get the clothing off as I was and didn't raise any fuss.
* * * *
I woke the next morning to the sound of water and looked over to see Pam standing next to me stark naked, her feet in a big shallow tin dish as she rinsed off soap. “If you want a bath, too, you'll need to use the same water,” she cautioned.
"Oh boy."
Pam rolled her eyes in a silent commentary on males that must be part of women's genetic makeup, because I've seen it in every century and place I've ever visited. She toweled off quickly and started pulling on things that needed buttoning, giving me an accusing look as she found a rip. I hastily cleaned up and started dressing as well, trying to think what I should say.
Pam checked herself in the small mirror when she'd got just about everything on, then suddenly turned to face me. “Confession time. I knew you'd be here and now."
My own half-formed speech, professing long-term interest but regret over the impossibility of a relationship when our home nows were a century apart, dissolved under a wave of surprise. “You did?"
"The TI central records said you'd worked the Virtual City project here and now."
I frowned. “Those records are confidential."
"Not anymore. They changed that a couple of decades ago. Or about eighty years from your home now. They figured it might help keep TIs from tripping over each other.” She shrugged. “I used it to set up a meeting. I found someone who wanted a TI to make a run here and took the contract. The project records showed the routes you'd been assigned to cover."
"You wanted to meet me that much?” I must have sounded stupid, but it had never occurred to me that someone like Pam would go to that kind of trouble on my account.
"Yeah. I knew you'd never be able to set up a meeting with me since I was uptime from you. And ... you did seem kind of interested in that."
"Very interested,” I agreed. “Should I say it?"
"Only if you want to, and mean it."
"Then I will. Pam, I fell in love with you in London. I didn't realize that until I met you again before then.” She smiled happily. “I want to be with you long-term.” Time for the cold water of reality. “But what are the odds that we'll be able to swing more meetings like this in the future in the past?"
"Not great,” Pam admitted, then spoke in a rush. “Have you ever considered emigrating?"
"Emigrating?” That floored me. Sure, everyone thinks about it at one point or another, the chance to move to another time within the band of centuries where TIs operate from and make it your home now. But hardly anyone does. The rules are very tight, and the idea of leaving everything you know is hard to stomach. So most people never really give it serious consideration. “You really mean that?"
"Yeah.” Pam sat down next to me again, looking at the floor, squeezing her interlocked hands together anxiously. “I didn't know if I'd ask you, not absolutely for sure, not until I'd spent more time with you. But I do mean it. I can sponsor you. We worked really well together in the future. I couldn't stop remembering the time we'll spend together in London. I'll have a great time with you there and then. I love you, too. And our Assistants like each other."
"I noticed.” I took a deep breath. “What about you? Emigrating?"
She grimaced. “You know the rules, Tom. If I emigrated downtime I'd have to have my implanted tech downgraded to match your level. That would be like giving An
nie a lobotomy. I can't do that."
"I wouldn't ask you to. Sorry I didn't remember that."
"But if you came up with me, Jeannie would get an upgrade,” Pam pointed out, then looked slightly guilty at dangling that lure in front of me.
"Yeah. She would,” I agreed in tones designed to show I didn't mind Pam bringing that up. I breathed deep again, thinking. It was a huge thing. And yet I'd been through century after century and never found anyone like Pam. What kind of idiot would turn down this opportunity? “Can I think about it for a little while? I think I'll want to, but I need a little while, okay?"
Pam grinned and kissed me. “I've got another forty-two hours here. Long enough?"
"It ought to be.” I kissed her back. “Especially if we spend it in this bed."
She laughed and shoved me away. “I've got work to do, and I bet you do, too. Besides, I don't want to think you're being motivated by nothing but lust."
"There's nothing wrong with lust,” I pointed out. “But, no. I wouldn't consider emigrating on the basis of lust even for Helen of Troy.” Who was incredibly hot, though not even remotely blond like she used to be portrayed. Which was okay, because I'm a bit skittish around blondes after some negative experiences I've had.
"Helen was a slut,” Pam responded shortly. Female TIs tend to have strong opinions about Helen, maybe because male TIs tend to talk about her.
"Nothing like you,” I agreed quickly.
"Get your buttons buttoned,” Pam ordered, standing up and grabbing her wig. “I need to turn back into Palmer and check out routes to Lexington."
"Are you staying there tonight?"
I must have sounded tragic because she grinned at me. “No. I can't. Between the locals and all the TIs hiding in the bushes the place is full. I'll scout the route today, then get in very early tomorrow and deploy my collection gear while everyone else is scrambling around watching each other. The focus of attention will be on the moving British troops and the Colonial VIPs then, so nobody will worry about one more TI moving through the countryside."
Analog SFF, November 2007 Page 11
