Damage Time

by Colin Harvey

  Strong but cold arms wrapped around Shah. "Aurora," he croaked happily.

  She kissed him.

  He kissed her back and wrapped his arms around her.

  Three Months Later

  Shah knew when Aurora was returning from the washroom – a guy three rows down hadn't taken his eyes off her all evening; his head swiveled as soon as she came down the steps from the washroom exit.

  I suppose I should feel jealous, or proprietorial, or something, he thought. But if she wants to run off with a zit-faced dweeb she will, whether I'm jealous or not. Not being jealous needed less energy. Since the storm he'd needed every calorie.

  The people along the row all stood to allow her to squeeze through. "Thanks." She repeating it – with variations – about every fifteen seconds. She slumped into the seat. "Whew. That's better."

  Shah gazed at her. Since the night of the storm she had dressed down more often as she gradually shed her patrones, divesting herself of her old life. When she did wear the chador and the full make-up as she did tonight, she took his breath away more than ever.

  "Earth to Shah," she said, smiling at him. "Have I missed anything?"

  Shah shook his head free of his thoughts like a dog ridding itself of water. "Not much," he said. "They've called a timeout. They're cleaning the ice."

  Below them, fifteen thousand New Yorkers watched the opening match of the season – against Detroit. Horns blared, while someone further around the arena hammered out a beat on their drum. Those nearest the ice pounded in time to it on the Perspex, which Shah ruefully thought was probably the most expensive item in the Ranger Stadium, or the New MSG, to give it its official title. Rarer than rocking horse shit, Perspex is, a notable wise-ass had said of it when the new rink was built. And whadda they do with it? Put it around a frickin' ice rink for the hockey-moops to play the bongos on.

  It's saying something, Shah thought, when watching the crowd's more interesting than watching the game.

  "You promised me goals," Aurora whispered, as if reading his mind. "Blood, spills, goals; that's how you sold me this. I could be at home washing my hair, filling in my tax return, something equally exciting."

  "You got blood and spills," Shah said. "Two out of three. And I'm told by the expert next to me," he pointed away from Aurora, "that zero-zero games are both statistically rare and," he paused, "tactically fascinating. Two defensive teams cancelling each other out."

  "You sound unconvinced."

  "I can't get as enthusiastic for hockey as Old Shah," he admitted. "Though I think even he woulda struggled to enjoy this."

  "Shall we?" Aurora motioned with her head toward the exit.

  "There's only," Shah looked at the clock, "forty-eight seconds left, plus any damage time the referees add."

  "Which is?"

  Shah waggled his hand. "A minute. Maybe two."

  "Why don't they just go straight to extra time?" Aurora said. "Why damage time as well?"

  Shah shrugged. "Someone said it comes from brown-outs knocking the official clocks off-kilter, so they added a little on. Or that some official toured Europe, got the idea from some other sports. Thought a little unpredictability would spice things up."

  Aurora pulled a face. "But they're going to play till they score, aren't they?"

  "Depend on it."

  "So we could still be here when my flight goes tomorrow morning."

  "Told ya." Shah said mock-sympathetically. "Nine's too early to fly."

  "And I," she leaned in, kissed him to shut him up, "told you that course registration starts at midday."

  "Remind me" Shah said, "Why you couldn't study Trauma Counseling in New York?"

  "Because." She kissed him again. "DCU has the best course in the country. I'll be back at weekends, like I said." They had talked about little else for a month. Aurora had admitted that she'd never expected to be admitted, when she'd applied before Kotian's death. She'd struggled to remember why DCU would be messaging her. "Long as you don't start working weekends again we'll be fine."

  That had been their other major topic of conversation; Shah's future. His sick leave had run out two weeks before, and he was finally back at work. It was already draining him.

  "That isn't going to happen," Shah said. "Actually, I've got a surprise for you as well." He pulled a paper from his pocket.

  "What's that?" Aurora said.

  "Hard copy of my flight ticket for tomorrow morning," Shah said. "You would not believe how many calories I had to spend to get it a last minute seat."

  Delight shone from her face. "You're – coming with me?"

  "Got news of my own yesterday morning." Shah kept his face straight with difficulty. He'd been keeping the secret for thirtysix hours, and now the moment was here, he was terrified. What if she's angry I didn't tell her before? What if she don't want me around all the time? Maybe three months of being together almost twenty-four seven is enough? "I got a new job." He stressed each syllable almost spelling it out; "The Federal Amnesia Support Unit." He grinned. "In Washington. A nine-to-five job. They figure I'm… uniquely qualified… to understand their issues. And stuff."

  Aurora shrieked and flung her arms around him.

  "Hey, lady, keep it down!" Someone called. "They're coming back onto the ice!"

  "You're not angry?" Shah whispered.

  "Why would I be?" Aurora drew back and gazed at him, eyes bright. "I'm proud of you."

  Shah half-laughed; "I may even be assigned to Kotian. He's changed his plea to guilty, so he'll escape the death penalty. He'll get legally ripped instead, and therapy to cope with it."

  She nodded at the exit. "Come on. Let's go celebrate."

  They stood as the teams faced off, ignoring the mutterings of those they squeezed past on the way out.

  They climbed the steps as the crowd counted down the clock; "Three! Two! One! Damage Time!"

  They were half way up the steps when a few ragged cheers on the far side split the stunned hush that suddenly shrouded the arena. "I think Detroit just scored," Aurora muttered out of the side of her mouth.

  All around them Rangers fans stood, shaking their heads.

  "Always happens," Shah said. "You got to play to the hooter, not stop 'cause you think time's up." As they reached the last step he slid his arm around her. They walked out into the hallway and onward to the warm night.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A number of sources provided inspiration for early drafts of this novel: Kenneth S Deffeyes' Beyond Peak Oil, James Howard Kunstler's The Geography of Nowhere and The Long Emergency all gave me tracts to kick against, while the Worldcon panels of 2005 about Life in the Next Fifty Years chaired by Kim Stanley Robinson were equally thought-provoking. Luc Reid provided links to articles on memory. Rob Rowntree, Sharon Reamer, Kay Theodotora and Josh Peterson provided feedback on the early draft, while Michael Lucas hunted clichés relentlessly, and Aliette de Bodard and Stephen Blount gave useful commentary on the second draft. If you like the book, thank them. However, any errors or weaknesses are due to me.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Colin Harvey lives in Bristol in the south-west of England with his wife Kate and spaniel Alice. His first fiction was published in 2001, since when he has written novels, short stories and reviews, edited anthologies and judged the Speculative Literature Foundation's annual Gulliver Travel Research Grant for five years. Colin's reviews appear regularly at Strange Horizons and he is the feature writer for speculative fiction at Suite101.

  www.colin-harvey.com

  Extras

  TWENTY MINUTES

  INSIDE THE MIND OF

  Colin Harvey

  As part of getting to truly know our authors, we sometimes like to throw a bunch of quickfire questions their way, to see if we can get a glimpse of what they really think. Welcome to the mind of Colin Harvey…

  One film

  Once Upon a Time in the West

  One book

  How can I pick only one? Oh, all right, then… Kim Stan
ley Robinson's Pacific Edge

  One film to burn

  Home Alone. Ugh.

  One Song / Record

  Dark Side of the Moon

  One record to smash

  Joe Dolce's Shut Up A Your Face. Who bought that pile of crap and kept Vienna off the top of the charts?

  One creative person you've always wanted to be

  The Edge. All I ever needed to do was learn to play the guitar and I could do his job.

  One book you wish you'd written

  Vernor Vinge's A Fire Upon the Deep

  One book / author that's been unjustly neglected

  Alfred Bester – he was hugely influential when I was a kid, but since his death he's been almost forgotten.

  Your hero

  I've become more sensitized to the subject since my stepfather developed multiple myelomas, so anyone who battles serious or terminal illness without complaint is heroic to me.

  Ideal dinner party guests

  Harlan Ellison and Christopher Priest on the same table might prove interesting, especially if Ursula K. Le Guin was the referee. Richie Benaud and Rory Bremner. And Su Perkins, 'cause she's brilliant...

  The biggest influence on your writing

  Style-wise Roger Zelazny, although I've tried to make it less obvious with the passage of time.

  The biggest influence on your life

  I suppose my parents would have to be top of the list. Professionally, Bruce Boston and Bruce Holland Rogers have both been major influences on my career in very different ways.

  One influence you wish didn't keep showing through

  I can't think of any I wouldn't want to appear. Influences are influences.

  Tell us a joke

  Q: Why did the duck cross the road?

  A: To prove he wasn't a chicken!

  (It was the only clean joke I could think of...)

  What do you sing in the shower

  I don't! Ever heard my voice?

  Any notable pets?

  Our Springer Spaniel, Chloe, who died a couple of years ago. I still miss her.

  Earliest memory

  We'd moved from a bungalow to a big house, and I'm sat at the top of a flight of stairs that look as big the hill on the ski-jump, wondering how I'm going to get down.

  First story you sold?

  "Dreamstalker" for a FTL (non-paying) webzine called Fragmented Infinity

  What do you say when people ask "Where do you get your ideas from?"

  A small shop in Fishguard. Three ideas for a pound. Or if I'm feeling serious, I'll say that ideas are easy, but making them into stories -especially good stories-- is much harder.

  Do you have an unusual talent or skill?

  Apparently I can add, subtract, divide and multiply with astonishing speed; I don't think it's anything special, but other people seem to.

  Best place you ever visited?

  Cairns in Australia; with the Great Barrier Reef nearby, semi-tropical mountains just inland and a hotel with a tropical atrium running up the core of the hotel. What keeps you awake at night? Insomnia...

  Got an irritating/bad habit?

  I don't think so, but according to some of my friends I whistle tunelessly.

  Who plays you in the movie?

  George Clooney.

  And what's the pivotal scene?

  I wander into the bar and there's this bunch of people sitting there...one of them is a bloke that I get chatting to about my next book.

  I say "What do you do?"

  He replies, "I'm a publisher…"

  We're buying... what'll you have?

  Beer. Real Ale. Something with a weird name – like Evil Natterjack Toad, or something equally strange.

  Favourite possession?

  My watch, which was an anniversary present from my wife.

  Favourite item of clothing?

  I have a pair of Bermuda shorts. They only come out in summer, so if I'm wearing them, it means it's sunny!

  When & where were you happiest?

  This is a really tough question but I guess it would be Crete in May 2005, on a writer's workshop called Write in Crete, run by Bruce Holland Rogers and Eric Witchey. Kate came with me and we made it into a family holiday. She stayed on the beach while I spent the morning writing, before joining her in the afternoon, or vice versa - morning on the beach the in the cool for the afternoon. We made some good friends, had a look around the island, and then Liverpool won the European Cup after being 3-0 down at half time!

  Complete this sentence: Rewriting is...

  almost the nicest part of writing.

  Complete this sentence: Blogging is...

  a chance to mouth off!

  Complete this sentence: I owe it all to...

  Mum, Dad, Auntis Daisy, Kate, the Bruces, Rob, Sharon, Lucas, Penny the Pole-Dancing Poet, and anyone else who knows me...

  Tell us a secret

  I hate doing interviews. Anything I have to say that's interesting goes in the books.

  What are you going to do right now when you've finished this ordeal?

  I'm going to watch Ghana play Australia in the (football/soccer) World Cup.