Time for the Lost

by Chess Desalls

  “What are you searching for?”

  The sky darkened. Enta glanced at her lamp. The flame flickered as if it was burning out. She picked up her pace.

  “A tome, something that I’m certain is here, in one of these rooms. And yet there are so many places for it to be hidden.”

  “Why not form a search with your travel glasses specifically for this tome? Searching behind all of the doors in the White Tower would take forever.”

  “I can’t,” she said. “Sable ensured that it was unsearchable. It’s protected.”

  “You mean enchanted?”

  Enta shook her head. “More like an encryption, a firewall through which I cannot pass. I must find it manually, for lack of better words to describe the phenomenon.”

  “Why not ask Sable to just tell you where it is? Maybe if you explain why you need the tome—”

  “Impossible,” Enta said with a soft laugh. “If she’d wanted anyone to find it, she wouldn’t have gone to such an extent to block access.” She stopped and swiped her hand along a snowdrift. A fluffy sheet of snow fell away, revealing a door camouflaged in the same color that I wouldn’t have been able to see if it wasn’t for the silver knob.

  She turned the knob and opened the door into the hallway. I scrambled in after her, eager to absorb the warmth and the light.

  Enta regarded me, her face tight with concern. “Let’s get you a warm drink. You wouldn’t have come to see me if you didn’t have questions.”

  I opened my mouth, and then shut it again. Her comment stung, but it held a kernel of truth. I hadn’t visited her this entire time, not until I had questions that only she could answer. Shame spread in ugly waves throughout my chest.

  “I got Lost,” I admitted as she led me through a door that opened up into a kitchen, as if that would somehow explain away all the time I’d spent not visiting her when I wasn’t Lost.

  Her body went rigid, except for the tremor I saw run across her back. “Lost?”

  My hands began to shake. “After Edgar died, the TSTA charged me with an infraction for leaving a Daily Reminder in his past.”

  Tears stung my eyes as I told Enta the rest of the story—how I’d tricked a past version of Edgar into giving me the recipe for his youth elixir, and what had happened when Valcas’ younger self wrote on the photograph Shirlyn had taken of us. I told her about the hearing, my conviction and the search for my father. Apparently, Valcas hadn’t filled her in on the details while we were in the air space behind the Fire Falls.

  With the warm beverage forgotten, Enta held me as I told her about my days in Susana—enduring the Uproar’s torture, along with my inability to save myself or the others there with me. Until Valcas and my father saved me, allowing me to pay them forward by helping to free the Lost. I spilled words along with tears, explaining the roles of Nick and Ivory, the connection between Ray’s tattoo and President Bree and how I’d escaped, once again, by running away.

  I told her everything, including the impossibility of a life with Valcas that didn’t end with my shorter timeline.

  Enta dried my tears and looked at me with kindness. A gleam burned in her eyes. “The tome I’m searching for,” she said, her voice sharp. “It’s a record of Valcas’ birth. In order to reset time in the world where he was born, Sable left a Daily Reminder in her own past, somewhere here in the White Tower.”

  I choked.

  “Sable wanted to ensure that Valcas’ timeline was long like hers, even though he hadn’t been born in Aboreal. I’m unsure whether she created the Daily Reminder before or after her husband’s passing. But to Valcas, his timeline—that of the White Tower—is all he’s ever known.”

  My heart raced as I took in the new information. “But how does that work? How does that change Valcas’ timeline if the Daily Reminder wasn’t left in his past?”

  “Sable technically changed her own past, events that surrounded the life that she brought into this world.”

  “So, then, the Daily Reminder needs to be somewhere she sees it every day, so that it’s part of her memory?”

  “Yes, it’s likely somewhere on or near her person at all times. That version will be impossible for us to obtain.”

  “That version?”

  Enta’s eyes glittered. “I know that she kept a separate copy, one that James also knew about and revealed to Edgar before he’d died. Which just happens to be something Edgar asked me to find before his life ended.”

  “She made a copy?”

  “Yes, to protect against the reminder being overwritten or destroyed.”

  “But I thought destroying any copy of a Daily Reminder destroyed all of them.”

  “That is true, unless, of course, a copy remains that cannot be accessed. A single copy still in existence restores all of them. In other words, should someone destroy the tome that any version of Sable has with her, it will reappear unless and until the encrypted copy is either overwritten or destroyed. It’s a sophisticated form of backup. Sable is rather clever.”

  “Wouldn’t she have been charged with an infraction?” I breathed.

  “Yes, but I suspect she was able to pay whatever fine the TSTA gave her; but here’s the kicker, Calla. Sable would have been able to destroy the tome—the Daily Reminder—at the hearing in the presence of the travel commissioner and all witnesses present. It would appear to everyone as if the Daily Reminder had disappeared, that she’d rectified the situation. The TSTA must not have known of the backup copy because Valcas’ timeline remains.”

  “If you find the tome, what will you do with it? What did Edgar have in mind?”

  “Edgar was concerned with your happiness. He thought that possession, and possibly manipulation, of the tome would disturb the balance of Valcas’ existence and give you a better chance of escape. I’m sure Edgar never would have anticipated that you and Valcas would want to be together. Valcas hadn’t said anything behind the Fire Falls that would indicate—” she sputtered. “But given what you’ve just told me…”

  “Everything has changed.”

  I didn’t want to disrupt Valcas’ timeline in such a way that would be harmful to him. All I wanted was for us to be together. It was the whole reason why I’d come to Enta for help. Now that she knew about how our lives had changed, her search was no longer necessary. And it wasn’t the only way.

  “Enta, there’s no need to look for the tome anymore.” My mind buzzed with the task of trying to find a way to fix things, and as soon as possible. I wasn’t sure anything I’d come up with would work, but… “I think I have a better idea.”

  ANSWERS. I just needed more answers, and then I could return to the Clock Tower and finish what I’d set out to do. “But first, I want to make sure I understand something more completely,” I said. “About how Overwrites work, how they’re even possible when there are slices in time that can show the truth to anyone looking for it. Edgar wasn’t able to explain that to me.”

  “I see.” I could sense Enta’s mind working through the concentration in her eyes. “Perhaps he would have, had computers been invented in his time, as well as understood to the extent to which they are in yours…and mine.”

  I leaned in closer. “Overwriting Daily Reminders has something to do with computers?”

  “Yes, like the data storage on a hard drive on a computer, even when Daily Reminders are deleted—much like files—and even when things happen like a traveler showing up in someone else’s past in which he or she wasn’t a true part—a slice in time will show ghost copies of the truth, similar to how ghost copies of a file still remain on a hard drive.”

  Puzzled, I twisted my lips.

  Enta smiled. “A computer file is queued for deletion and the space it once took up is made available, but the file’s not actually gone until it is overwritten by something else.”

  I rubbed my eyes as I absorbed Enta’s explanation. I’d learned in one of my online intro to computer classes that when I deleted something from my hard drive, it didn’t autom
atically disappear. Deleting the file just made the space where the data had been available for new data to fill in that space. What I deleted didn’t actually go away until the new data replaced it. “Oh,” I said, understanding.

  She waited until I looked up at her before continuing. “Overwrites work similarly, not just for Daily Reminders, but for slices in time. Each slice in time is a ghost file of the truth.”

  “So, then, what about all my appearances in Valcas’ past?”

  “You can go back and visit the slices until they are overwritten by something else.”

  “But that would mean the truth disappears?”

  “It doesn’t disappear so much as it’s recycled.”

  “What’s the difference between that situation and an Overwrite of a Daily Reminder?”

  “An Overwrite replaces the existence of a Daily Reminder everywhere it appears in a slice in time—assuming the original copy is overwritten. This is similar to how destroying a Daily Reminder destroys its existence everywhere it appears in a slice in time. It is a faster way of recycling.”

  “But what if an Overwrite is not truth?”

  “Then, I suppose it’s a recorded lie. One with the power to conceal the truth.”

  A saying popped in my mind—one Ray told me he’d seen on the glass ball, the portal to Susana that had been on the Clock Tower. The portal had melted after my father destroyed Susana by setting it on fire.

  Time is relative, a measurement. Without it, one becomes Lost. But with time, one becomes fixed. The Lost are free. The claimed, the Found, remain tethered to the TSTA.

  Slices in time were fixed. Those who lost sight of time became Lost. My father and I had set them free; they weren’t Found. They were Freed.

  Who were the Found?

  If Susana was a TSTA project, then why would the portal state something against the TSTA?

  Now that there was no longer a Susana, was there any place for the Lost to go?

  Suddenly, I didn’t care about the TSTA’s rules anymore. I no longer feared its infractions. I certainly wasn’t tethered to the agency. I was one of the Freed; and I planned to create an Overwrite of my own, if I could figure out how to do it in a way that would rearrange Valcas’ timeline—or mine—so that our timelines would match. What Enta told me about Sable’s tome encouraged me. I wasn’t sure what I had in mind would be possible, but I had to try.

  “Enta, I have to go.”

  She flinched. “I was going to make hot chocolate. You need to rest, to warm.”

  “No,” I said, my voice weak and unconvincing. “I’ll be fine.”

  Enta frowned, but she did nothing to stop me. “It was good seeing you again. From what you’ve told me, I suppose I have no further business here.”

  “Will you go back to the homestead?”

  She smiled, but her eyes clouded with tears. “I will go home.”

  I pulled her in for a brief hug before opening the door and stepping back out into the hallway.

  My visit with Enta hadn’t been as eventful as I’d hoped, but I’d learned a lot. On the other hand, it would have been much more eventful had the Halls been home. Jim was dead. Valcas was at the Clock Tower. And, Sable could have been in Aboreal for all I knew.

  I doubted Enta would have snooped around the White Tower while Sable was there; but there were a lot of rooms. Enta would only have needed to be careful when entering and exiting the hallway. But, then, how did she get past security? I thought back to the first time I’d visited the White Tower, with Romaso and Shirlyn. A whole team of Estrel-Flyers had come after us. Security hadn’t arrived when I’d traveled to Enta, not knowing where she was, that she was in a room inside the White Tower. Had Enta also traveled directly to one of the places inside its rooms?

  I’d also learned from my first visit to the White Tower, and many trips thereafter, that the hallway was mapped, with rooms grouped as if they belonged together. For example, one section of the hallway held guest suites, rooms separate from the main house. The bedrooms, kitchen and other living spaces Valcas and his parents personally occupied were arranged together in a different section. Add to that the mashup of earthlike and otherworldly places beyond the doors, and the White Tower was a curious puzzle of the surreal. I kind of liked it.

  But I had to return to the Clock Tower—both in an attempt to clean up the mess the TSTA had made in its power struggle over Aboreal and the Lost, and to ensure no one would ever get Lost again—that there would be no place for them to go. Not to mention the admittedly selfish reasons that involved Valcas and me.

  A blur of purpose skipped through my mind as I placed the travel glasses on my face and ran through the White Tower’s hallway, focusing on the Clock Tower and my friends.

  The travel glasses transported me instantly, although I had no clue how much time or space existed between the White Tower and the Clock Tower—two worlds whose existence exceeded comprehension, if I thought about them too much. Worlds connected by a portal, but also threaded together in the Everywhere and Everywhen.

  I wasn’t a World Builder like Valcas and his parents. Neither was I an inventor with a brilliant mind like Edgar or Enta. I was nothing compared to the grand scheme of space and time. But all of that was about to change, in favor of a new era—one in which (I hoped) the TSTA couldn’t control anybody, including me. Before that could happen—should such a thing be possible—I had to run an experiment that would affect far fewer lives.

  The white light faded, unveiling a purple sky. I was outside the Clock Tower. Its timepieces swayed to a rhythm I’d never understand. After grounding, I rushed inside.

  Valcas greeted me at the door. A look of longing and concern washed over his features before he surrounded me with his arms. “You’re okay. Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “I think so,” I said, smiling as we walked up the stairs into Nick’s home.

  Nick, Ivory, Ray, Lily and my father sat together in the center of the room, now more cramped than I’d ever seen it. I didn’t know how Nick could stand having so many people invade his privacy. After having been alone for so long, he probably enjoyed the company. But, still…

  No one lifted a head to greet me. They sat, hunched over a laptop, gazing intently at its screen. Unsurprisingly, Ray controlled the computer.

  Nick and Ivory both had sour looks on their faces, their lips pulled in tight lines. They sat so close together that it was difficult to tell where one’s snowy white hair ended and the other’s began. Well, not too difficult when I focused on Nick’s bandages.

  “What it is?” I asked, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.

  “It’s all here,” breathed Lily, pointing at the screen. “Details about Ray’s tattoo, project Susana—Uproars and The Chars, they were all under the TSTA’s control, all part of its plan.”

  I caught my breath. We’d had our suspicions about the TSTA’s involvement and had already solved the mystery behind Ray’s tattoo. “That’s good, right? We’re able to confirm that it’s all the TSTA’s fault—and President Bree’s.”

  Everyone glared at Valcas.

  “We also learned,” growled my father, “how the TSTA forced a World Builder to build Susana.”

  VALCAS LOOKED at me; his eyes glazed with sadness, without a trace of guilt.

  Bile lurched up my throat as I thought of the possibility of having suffered and mourned in Susana, a place created and built by someone I loved. “No…tell me it wasn’t you.”

  He shook his head. “I promise, I knew nothing about it.”

  “Then why’s everyone looking at you like it’s your fault?”

  Ray cleared his throat. “The records say that the TSTA enlisted the help of a man who loved his wife. He completed his task in exchange for paying a fine that he and his wife could not afford.”

  I cringed.

  “The man’s name,” continued Ray, “was James Hall.”

  Valcas hung his head in shame.

  Pressure constricted my
stomach.

  Enta was wrong. Sable hadn’t been able to pay the fine for the Daily Reminder she’d created, the tome that reset Valcas’ timeline. Her husband—Valcas’ father, Jim—paid.

  Everyone in Susana had paid.

  My heart pounded as I tried to keep myself from shaking.

  Time is relative, a measurement. Without it, one becomes Lost. But with time, one becomes fixed. The Lost are free. The claimed, the Found, remain tethered to the TSTA.

  The words sang in my head once again. Valcas’ father may have been the Found, claimed by the TSTA, tethered to it. If he’d built Susana, then he may have tried to leave the message that had shown through its portal, a warning—a cry for help to anyone who might see it. But it was too late.

  I took a deep, calming breath. “Where did you find this information, Ray?”

  He grinned. “President Bree accessed my computer with a passcode, using her voice. I recorded it.”

  “Oh,” I puffed, remembering Ray’s ability to record both sights and sounds—the way he’d mimicked voices from the bridal shower, playing back every word that had been said. I’d been impressed when Mom first showed the recording to me. I hadn’t realized what a powerful skill it was.

  As if shivers weren’t already tugging at my spine, Ray stated three words in President Bree’s clear, hateful voice: “Lost and Found.” I almost threw up.

  “I downloaded the files,” said Ray, this time in his own deep rasp, “before President Bree would have a chance to catch on and change the password.”

  A twitch from Ivory caught my eye. She and Nick had stayed quiet the entire time. I looked more closely, noting the red splotches that circled her eyes. I couldn’t even imagine how she and Nick were taking all of this. They looked miserable. Ivory lost her job. Aboreal had created the TSTA; and, now, Ivory’s Overwrite—intended to protect Nick—meant nothing. Nick would be rejected by both Aboreal and the TSTA no matter what. The TSTA may not be able to access the Clock Tower; but Aboreal may still try to regain control over it. Who knew how it would end?