by Scott Meyer
“I know it is,” Jimmy replied. He gestured toward the mirror. “It’s a shame the video camera you have back there didn’t catch it.”
“Shut up!” Agent Miller said. A thick silence descended while Jimmy waited for Agent Miller to say what Jimmy always knew he eventually would. “Okay,” Miller said, “what will you need?”
Jimmy said, “Nothing fancy. A clean place to sleep, three meals a day, and we’ll need a computer with high-speed Internet access.”
Miller nodded. “I suppose you’ll need the computer to be in your room.”
“No,” Jimmy said. “I won’t be touching the computer. I don’t want it anywhere near me, but we’ll need it.”
8.
For three days Martin and Phillip were quite busy. There were preparations to be made, and the fact that neither of them was sure what those preparations were did not make matters easier.
They thought that a first-of-its-kind leadership summit in Atlantis sounded like a big deal. They knew that they were representing their friends. They were absolutely sure that there would be many women. Martin could hardly think about anything beyond the fact that Gwen was certain to be there.
They each went back to their own original times for a serious makeover. Eddie, Jimmy’s former right-hand man, turned out to be very helpful in this endeavor. They had all been loath to trust him, after Jimmy tried to kill everyone, but then again, he had tried to kill Eddie as well. Besides, in the two months since that incident, Phillip and Martin had gotten to know Eddie pretty well, and it turned out he was a really interesting guy, and obsessive about men’s fashion. He showed them that by jumping to moments in time spaced several months apart, a wizard could get premium bespoke tailoring done instantly, from the wizard’s point of view.
They each bought new black tuxedoes, which were timeless. They got new suits, which were carefully chosen to look dignified, and as such, were not terribly dated. They got casual wear and swimsuits (it was Atlantis, after all), which couldn’t help being a bit dated, and haircuts, which virtually screamed I’m from the year I’m from.
Phillip decided that for the brief period he’d be gone, he would leave Tyler and Eddie to manage his chairmanly duties. It wasn’t difficult. Essentially, he told Eddie to do what he always did and report periodically to Tyler. He told Tyler to be available to listen to Eddie’s reports. On a certain level, Phillip liked the idea that he was leaving Medieval England in the hands of a black man and an Asian man.
Martin felt bad about not being able to complete Roy’s training. He especially felt bad when Roy seemed happy about the situation, eagerly suggesting that Jeff take over as trainer.
Gary moped around for a day or so, angry that Phillip and Martin weren’t letting him tag along, but then he and Martin hit on the idea of planning a grand entrance.
“Look,” Martin said, “this is the first time representatives from all of the wizard communities have ever gotten together in one place. We want everyone to know that we’ve arrived.”
Phillip said, “They’ll know that because they’ll see that we’ve arrived.”
Martin shook his head. “No, Phil, you’re looking at this all wrong. This isn’t just a bunch of people showing up for a meeting.”
“That’s exactly what it is,’ Phillip said.
“No, it’s not.” Martin said, before pausing, then adding, “Well, okay, it is, but it also isn’t.”
Phillip asked, “Did that sentence make sense to you when you planned it in your head, or do you just open your mouth and let the words fall out however they like?”
Martin took a moment to rephrase his thoughts. “It isn’t just a bunch of people arriving for a meeting. It’s also a group of important people greeting the world on behalf of their communities. It’s like the opening ceremony of the Olympics.”
Phillip said, “I was thinking it’d be more like a meeting of the UN.”
Gary said, “Really, I was picturing the Tri-Wizard tournament from Harry Potter.”
“Yeah, we know you were,” Martin muttered. Then, to Phillip, he said, “Look, I’ve given this some thought, and I think we need to make a big entrance, okay? Will you just go with me on this?”
“Fine,” Phillip said, just not wanting to argue about it. “Olympic opening ceremony. Whatever. Are you suggesting that we wear track suits and walk in a circle carrying a flag?”
Martin and Gary looked at each other. Martin said, “You know, that would be funny.”
Gary said, “No, you need something impressive. Something that will grab people’s attention.”
Phillip suggested, “How about if we two grown men appear out of thin air, looking like responsible, rational adults?”
Gary said, “That’s a start, but picture this: ‘two full grown men,’ as you say, crawl out of a fiery crack in the ground, spewing brimstone and damned souls.”
“Is the crack in the ground spewing brimstone, or are we?”
Gary said, “We can try it each way and keep whichever looks better.”
“I see what you’re saying, guys,” Phillip said, “but surely in a situation like this, less is more.”
“Yes,” Gary agreed, “and if less is more, then logically, more must be even more than that.”
Eventually Phillip surrendered. He told Gary and Martin to do what they liked, but he begged them not to make it too ostentatious.
Gary’s promise to make it just ostentatious enough did not make Phillip feel better.
Finally, the time came. Their suitcases were packed and in hand. Phillip’s was a hard-sided chocolate brown Samsonite, Martin’s was a black fabric rolling upright. Their hair was perfectly styled. Martin’s was spiky and crisp, Phillip’s was impeccably feathered and parted down the middle. They were ready to go.
They guys all gathered at Martin’s warehouse to see them off.
“Okay, everyone,” Phillip said. “We’ll be back in exactly two weeks.”
“Yeah, why is that, kid?” Roy asked. Being in his sixties, Roy delighted in calling Phillip kid. Being in his forties, Phillip delighted in finally having someone around who could plausibly call him kid. “Why come back in two weeks? You’re time travelers. Why not just come back the second after you left?”
“For quick trips, we usually do,” Phillip explained, “but sometimes, for longer trips, it’s just less confusing this way. Besides, when you’ve lived in the past for a while, you begin to realize that you don’t particularly need to see all of it.”
Martin asked Gary, “Is our entrance ready?”
“Yup,” Gary said, “I’ve got the macro set up so that it’ll automatically trigger off of the same phrase that transports you there.”
“Do I have to do anything special?” Phillip asked.
“No,” Gary said, “we’ve designed the whole thing around the idea that you’re gonna stand there like a stiff.”
“Wise,” said Phillip.
Tyler asked Martin, “What’s your plan with Gwen?”
Martin said, “I’m gonna try to be cool.”
It occurred to Phillip that the phrase try to be cool could mean try to act like everything is all right, which would be good, or it could mean try to act like I’m a really cool guy, which would be disastrously bad.
Goodbyes were exchanged. Instructions were imparted. Stern warnings were leveled at Gary. It was time to go. Martin and Phillip stood side by side, staffs in one hand, suitcases in the other, and in unison said, “Transporto unua Atlantis kunveno.”
Many, many years before, and many, many miles away, two figures materialized. It was impossible to identify them further because they were cloaked in shadow, despite the bright sun that shone overhead.
For a moment the incongruously shady duo stood motionless, then they were bathed in brilliant light, making it easy to identify them as Martin and Phillip. Phillip winced in the blinding light,
shielding his eyes. Martin leapt into the air, much higher and more gracefully than he’d ever be able to without magical assistance. He executed a perfect roundhouse kick, a feat that was all the more impressive for his still holding his staff in one hand and his full suitcase in the other. At the apex of his jump, he froze, motionless in mid-air. As he hung there, the vista behind him was filled with images of explosions, blood-thirsty orcs, and what appeared to be a white Pontiac Fiero jumping a ravine. Both Martin and the tableau held their position behind Phillip for a moment, giving the intended audience the impression that they were looking at the poster for an action-packed buddy movie about a kung-fu wizard frequent-flyer and his straight-laced, confused partner. From somewhere, an electric guitar solo played, then the images of cheesy B-movie awesomeness disappeared. Martin landed on the opposite side of Phillip from where he’d started. With a carefully practiced air of nonchalance, Martin lifted his gaze to receive the audience’s reaction to their entrance.
Martin saw the bluest sky he’d ever seen, above the bluest ocean he’d ever seen. To his right, there was a lush, green forest of palm trees and scrub grass. Beneath his feet was sand the color and consistency of sugar. Directly in front of him, he saw Gwen, standing alone, barefoot on the beach. Her hair was still cut in a cute bob, but exposure to the sun had bleached it a lighter brown than he remembered. She was wearing a hooded cloak of the same design as the one she’d worn when she lived in England, but this one was made of a light fabric more appropriate for protecting the wearer from the sun than from wind and rain. Beneath the cloak she wore a light, knee-length sundress. Her sandals hung by their loops from her fingers, but her hands were still unencumbered enough to execute a perfect slow-clap.
Phillip cried, “Gwen!” He dropped his suitcase and rushed forward, seizing Gwen in a bear hug.
“Phillip,” Gwen said. “It’s so good to see you.” As they hugged, Martin set down his suitcase and approached for his turn to say hello.
The hug finally ended, but rather than releasing Gwen, Phillip held her at arm’s length and looked her up and down. “Gwen, you look great.”
Martin silently agreed.
She thanked Phillip as he finally released his grip. Martin moved in for a hug of his own, but was stopped dead when Gwen offered him a handshake. With great effort, he shook her hand without any sign of disappointment.
“Gwen,” Martin said, “it’s great to see you.”
“You too, Martin. Clearly you got the bowl okay.”
“Oh yeah. Thanks for the Star Wars reference, by the way.”
Gwen smiled. “Don’t mention it.”
Phillip, now done greeting Gwen, had turned his attention to their surroundings. “Gwen, this is beautiful! Where are we?”
“This is an island a few miles off the coast of Greece. It’s the year 368 B.C., if you can believe it. Some of the other delegates were given transport coordinates directly into the city, but I wanted some time to say hello and explain a few things.” She started walking down the beach. The two men walked with her.
Phillip said, “First things first. How are you Gwen? How do you like living in Atlantis?”
Gwen said, “Atlantis is amazing. You’ll see soon enough. It’s not perfect, but it’s pretty close.”
Martin said, “Really? Because, I gotta say, I was surprised to hear from you again so soon.”
“What do you mean?” Gwen asked.
“Oh, just that when you left, I figured we’d hear from you again, but I expected it to take a lot longer. I thought you’d hold out longer than a month or two.”
Martin looked at Gwen. She was looking back, but she was not smiling. Beyond her, Martin could see Phillip. His eyes were bulging and he was gritting his teeth.
“It’s been a month or two for you, Martin,” Gwen said. “I’ve been here over two years.”
Martin stopped walking. Gwen and Phillip did not.
“Oh,” Martin said. “That’s closer to what I expected.”
Gwen neither slowed down nor said a word. Phillip looked back at him and chuckled mirthlessly. After a moment, Martin ran to catch up.
“So,” Phillip said, breaking the silence, “where are we going?”
“To Atlantis,” Gwen answered. “It’s a few miles away, but I’ve got a boat to take us.”
“Why don’t we just fly there?” Martin asked.
“Because we can’t really talk while we’re flying, and there are a few things you need to know.”
As they rounded a bend, skirting the edge of the island, they saw a wooden dock extending off of the beach and into the water.
“Where shall we start?” Phillip asked.
“Let’s start with the summit,” Gwen said. “As the invitation said, representatives from each colony of time travelers have been brought here. We’ve brought two members from each group, the group’s leader, and another, usually either the second in command, or the leader’s best friend. It may please you to know that you’re from one of the largest groups. Most colonies are quite a bit smaller.”
Martin asked, “What are the biggest ones?”
“Well, there’s you guys, because you represent all of Europe in one of the most obvious time frames. China and Baghdad are about the same size as yours, but the biggest is Atlantis.”
“Really?” Martin said. “Atlantis is the biggest?”
“Think about it,” Gwen said. “We have most of the women from most of the groups. Of course we’d be the biggest.”
Martin held up his hands, signaling surrender. “No, I get it. You’ve got a point. I’d just hoped that other cultures were a little friendlier to women who do magic, so maybe they wouldn’t feel the need to come here.”
Gwen said, “Sadly, life is pretty nasty for women who do magic almost everywhere, and in almost any time. The only place where they get treated the same as the men is in the colony that’s living as Gypsies in Paris in the 1480s, and that’s just because the locals treat the male and the female Gypsies equally badly.”
They walked quietly for a moment, contemplating human nature, until Gwen broke the silence. “So, we’ll be deciding various issues that face our kind. How to prevent the abuse of our powers, what we will call ourselves, that sort of stuff.”
“What’s wrong with calling ourselves wizards?” Martin asked.
“We don’t all pose as wizards. There are fakirs, philosophers, wise men, alchemists, medicine men, sorcerers, and a couple of magicians. You’ll be meeting people like us from all over the world, and all over recorded history. For now we’re using ‘time travelers,’ but that doesn’t really cover it. In Atlantis, we call ourselves ‘sorceresses.’”
“Because you’re all women.”
“And because it’s fun. It kinda makes everything into a tongue twister. ‘Send several sorceresses south.’ See?”
Phillip said, “Great. Two weeks of planned disagreements with people who aren’t used to dealing with equals. It’ll be a miracle if we get anything accomplished.”
“It won’t be a problem,” Gwen said. “Our leader, Brit, will be running the show. She’s pretty good at this sort of thing.”
“It’s a shame your leader has to do that instead of acting as a delegate for Atlantis.”
Gwen laughed. “Oh, she’s also one of our delegates.”
Wait,” Phillip said. “Isn’t anyone worried that she might somehow, I don’t know, favor herself?”
Gwen said, “Believe me, it’s not a problem. She seldom agrees with herself. Here’s the boat.” Gwen gestured toward the end of the dock, which seemed at a glance to have no boats moored to it. When Phillip and Martin actually looked, though, they could see another transparent bowl bobbing in the water. This one was much larger than the one Phillip had received. Even knowing it was there, it was more visible for the shadow it cast and the furrow in the water where it sat than
for actually being visible itself. If Martin squinted, he could just make out a transparent floor and a shelf-like bench wrapping around the inside.
Gwen walked to the end of the dock, slipped on her sandals, and stepped over the rim, into the near-invisible boat. Martin and Phillip followed suit. When they were all seated Gwen said, “Take me home.” The boat silently lifted a foot or so above the surface and started moving, fast enough to make real progress, but slowly enough that the wind was not unpleasant.
Phillip looked at the edge of the flying bowl-boat and asked, “Is this made of diamond too?”
Gwen smiled. “Yeah. It’s laid down one molecule at a time by an automated algorithm. Makes incredibly strong structures, and if you think it through well enough you can make almost anything. Also, because they’re so molecularly pure, you can manipulate, levitate, or teleport them at will with no danger of them breaking apart. It was one of the Brits’ first great innovations.”
Phillip puffed up a bit with nationalistic pride. “We Brits invented this? When?”
Gwen chuckled. “Not the British. The Brits. Two of our leaders are named Brit.”
“Oh,” Martin said, “like the Magnuses.”
“No,” Gwen said. “Nothing like the Magnuses. This is one of the things I wanted to warn you about.” Gwen sighed heavily, thought for a moment, then plunged ahead. “See, there are three people in charge of Atlantis. They form a sort of voting council. There’s the President, whom we all elect. At the moment it’s a woman named Ida. Then there’s Brit, our real leader. She founded Atlantis and is the smartest person I’ve ever met. She’s there out of respect. She built the whole place herself. She’s, well, she’s just amazing. You’ll see.”
Martin said, “And the third, the other Brit. What’s her deal?”
Gwen winced. “See, that’s the hard part to explain. There is no other Brit. It’s the same Brit. Brit is two people, or you could say she’s one person twice. See, Brit went back in time, like a hundred years ago, and built Atlantis. She designed it, did all of the engineering, made it all work. Then she went out into the world and encouraged people to move to the city and populate it. They set up homes and businesses, gave her creation life, and made it a real city. She built the buildings, then she made it into the city it is today.”
