Parallelogram Omnibus Edition

by Brande, Robin

  Daniel sketches in a tree trunk and makes a mark on its side.

  “So you find a citrus tree that will grow in your climate—a lemon tree, for example—and you make a cut in its bark. Then you insert a thin piece of branch from a ruby orange tree. You bind the two together, and after a few weeks the tissues from the two of them begin growing together. Eventually you have a lemon tree that bears ruby oranges. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. So now we come to Professor Lacksmith’s theory about Dr. Venn.”

  Daniel draws a root downward from the grafted tree and then sketches in a second horizontal line beneath it again.

  “Even though above the ground this tree looks different, it’s still part of the same clonal colony and can communicate with all its sisters and brothers very easily. That’s how Dr. Venn could find so many of his other selves. They were in other times, other centuries, even other universes, but they were still all connected at this singular base level. He just had to be patient and seek them out.”

  “Wait,” I say. “So you’re telling me there are all these people, men and women, people who don’t look anything like each other and live all over the place, and they’re still all versions of Dr. Venn?”

  “Not Dr. Venn as the person,” Daniel says, “but versions of this.” He points to the lower line. “Offshoots of the Mother Root. And all of them have undergone a form of grafting. It’s a question of when—at what stage in their growth—they were grafted.”

  I pause a moment to think about that. “Okay, so when Dr. Venn was talking about how he visited the Viking version of himself in the year one thousand something, he was really visiting some person who grew out of the same Mother Root. Right?”

  “Yes,” Daniel says, “that was the origin. But then the grafting—”

  “Took place right away,” I say, pointing to the area below the soil. “Down here. Before that person was ever born.”

  “Yes, that’s the theory.”

  “But with Halli and me,” I go on, suddenly excited that maybe I have a grasp on this, “I’ve done some sort of grafting above the surface, creating versions where it’s her body, but me inside. And Dr. Venn did the same thing when he and the other physicists signed the Manhattan Pact and split off into a new universe. He created a second Edgar Venn from the first one.”

  “I think so,” Daniel says. “That’s what the theory implies.”

  “But what does that mean?” I ask, because that’s really the important question here. I’m used to having theories about how all of this happened—Professor Whitfield and Albert and I had tons of them back in their lab—but theories don’t get me anywhere if I can’t find a way to use them for my benefit.

  “Go back to idea of the original root,” Daniel says, pointing to that lower line. “Professor Lacksmith prefers to think in terms of plants, obviously, but he said Dr. Venn has always spoken of the origin in terms of a greater consciousness linking all the various lives together. He calls it the Great Mind.”

  I try to process that. “Okay, so let’s say one big, massive mind creates all these people. And because they’re all linked together in the forest of time and space—” Forest of time and space. I love the sound of that. “—they can visit each other or communicate together no matter where they live, or during what time period. Dr. Venn can go visit another member of his colony even if he or she lives in a different universe or a different century.”

  “Yes,” Daniel agrees. “I think that’s what they’re saying.”

  I let out a breath. There’s a lot to try to take in here. But I know if I can really absorb this, I might finally be able to answer a lot of my own questions.

  I borrow Daniel’s tablet. “So let’s say this is the Greater Mind that goes with me.” I trace my finger over the tablet surface and draw a few trees growing out of the lower line. Then I point to them in succession. “Tree Audie. Tree Halli.” Then I draw in new branches on the Audie tree. “So when I saved Halli, I ended up grafting a Halli branch onto my Audie tree. That created a version where it was Halli’s body with me inside.

  “Then that branch died.” I draw in a withered end to the branch. “So I looped back into the past a little ways, and grafted a new branch onto this one. I’m still me inside Halli’s body, but this time I’ve created a stronger plant. With stronger qualities to help me survive.”

  I look up from what I’m drawing. “Does that sound even close to right?”

  Now it’s Daniel’s turn to press his fingers into his temple. “I’ve already spent hours discussing this with Professor Lacksmith. I don’t know if any of it makes sense anymore. It’s all like a hurricane in my mind at the moment.”

  “Let’s stop, then,” I say, handing him back his tablet. “I need to get up and move or something. My brain is on overload, too. We both need a break.”

  I climb past Red and stand up. Stretch my arms up high. Crack my neck from side to side. Bend at the waist to lengthen my legs. Hang there for a while to let the blood rush to my head.

  “The problem is,” I tell Daniel once I come back up, “I feel like I’ve done this kind of thing before.”

  “Done what?” he asks.

  “Run after some theory. Professor Whitfield had all of his. I had some of my own. Then for the past few days it’s been all Dr. Venn. And now this new stuff from Professor Lacksmith. I don’t know if any of it is right. I keep thinking, ‘Yeah, that’s it!’ but then something new comes along, and I think, ‘No, that has to be it.’” I shake my head. “It’s frustrating because I never know if I’m wasting my time and chasing some idea that’s completely wrong.”

  “I understand,” Daniel says. “But it’s science, isn’t it? We circle around and around a problem until we finally approach what seems the most likely solution.”

  “So are we still circling here?” I ask. “Or is this the solution?”

  There’s a knock on the door. Sarah sticks her head in. “Busy?”

  “Busy being confused,” I say. “Come on in. Have you found anything?”

  “Oh, have I.” She holds her tablet out in front of her. There’s a holographic image frozen in midair.

  “You believe you’re confused now?” she asks. “Wait until you see this.”

  41

  “Watch,” Sarah says. She restarts the film.

  It’s the same footage Daniel already showed me. There he is, Dr. Venn in his early 80s, walking with a cane and being questioned by a reporter.

  “We already saw this,” Daniel tells her.

  “One moment, please,” she says. She stops the film and brings up a new one. Dr. Venn once again is shown walking somewhere, this time in front of his house, maybe. There’s a voiceover about him, but no one stops him for an interview.

  The film ends.

  Sarah turns to us, a smug smile on her face. “Well?”

  “Well what?” I ask.

  “Did you see it?”

  “No,” I say.

  “Let’s try again,” Sarah says. She plays both pieces of footage once more.

  I shake my head. “I don’t get it.”

  Sarah groans. “Daniel? Anything?”

  “No,” he says, “sorry.”

  “Can we have a hint?” I ask.

  “Look at his gait,” Sarah says. Then she plays the footage for the third time.

  “Just tell us,” Daniel says afterward. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Then prepare yourself,” Sarah says. “Now that I know it’s possible, it is clear to me that those two are not the same man.”

  “What? Show us again,” I tell her.

  This time she slows down each one and points at the moving image. “Watch the left leg. See how the foot turns out there? And watch his hand position on the cane. All right, have that in mind?”

  She then restarts the second film. “There.” She points to the left foot. “It’s forward. Watch every step—see how it even turns inward right there? And look at his right han
d. His grip on the cane is completely different. And watch how he holds his head. It’s different than in the first one.”

  “Yeah, but this one is later, right?” I ask. “By how many years?”

  “Two,” Sarah says.

  “He’s old,” I say. “Bodies change.”

  “Two years is not that much older,” Sarah answers. “I’m telling you, this second man is different.”

  It isn’t impossible. That man in the later footage could be the other Edgar Venn, briefly captured on film during one of his bilocation visits.

  Although the truth is, I can’t see any of the differences Sarah is pointing out. Both men look exactly the same to me.

  “How are you getting all this, anyway?” I ask her.

  “Because I pay attention,” Sarah says. “I have an eye for it. Don’t I, Dan?”

  “She does,” he admits. “She always notices the most peculiar things about people.”

  “Peculiar,” she scoffs. “Body movement and hair style and clothing are fairly regular, thank you. The fact is, people just don’t look. They don’t see.”

  “I could look all day,” Daniel answers, “and still not see what you’ve claimed about Albertson Foles.”

  “His eyes are moist and the left one has a twitch,” she tells me, “but only during his evening broadcasts—never the morning ones. Obviously he’s an afternoon drinker.”

  “Or that time you knew Mrs. Laird next door left her husband,” Daniel says.

  “Anyone could have seen that Mr. Laird had let himself go,” Sarah says. “Stopped doing the wash. Wore the same shirt and trousers five days in a row one week. Hair so greasy you could have wrung it into a pail. No man who’s loved abandons his appearance like that.”

  “Can I ask you guys something?” I interrupt, even though I’m very interested in what other feats of observation Sarah has demonstrated. But what she just said about Albertson Foles, whoever he is, reminds me that I’ve been meaning to ask this for a while. “What’s with all the first names here that end in son?” One or two might not have seemed so strange, but there have been too many of them: Halli’s father Jameson Bellows, the driver Wilkinson, that personal trainer on the island, Ferguson, the man at the London headquarters, Johnson Chilton—and probably more that I’m just not thinking of right now.

  “It was the fashion, wasn’t it?” Sarah says.

  “What fashion?” I ask.

  “Primarily in the 50s and 60s,” Daniel answers. “When families began changing over to the mother’s surname for the children instead of the father’s.”

  “Some of the fathers felt subordinated,” Sarah says. “Completely ignoring the fact that for centuries women were never given their proper due—”

  Daniel heads her off. “Which is a topic for another time. But to answer your question,” he tells me, “it became the fashion for some time that parents gave their sons the fathers’ first names and added ‘son’ to the end.”

  “What about the girls?” I ask.

  “It never worked,” Sarah says. “The names would be hopelessly long. And not very poetic. Samsdaughter for me. No, thank you.”

  “Anyway,” I say, trying to get us back on track, “I’m not saying these two Dr. Venns aren’t different, but two pieces of film really aren’t enough.”

  “A fair criticism,” Sarah says. “Which is why I have several more to show you.”

  One after another she switches back and forth between older and more recent footage. And the more she points out the differences, I can almost start to see what she’s talking about.

  “It’s the same as I noticed about you,” Sarah tells me. “The way you hold your body and carry it. It wasn’t like Halli. Maybe it’s subtle—too subtle for you, Daniel—”

  “I knew it was her,” he says defensively.

  “Bravo, you,” his sister answers, “perhaps you’ve finally opened your eyes, but everyone has their own habits of dress and speech and movement. They’re as telling as wearing a sign about your neck announcing, ‘Hello, I’m in love now! I’ve lost my job! My wife has run off with our accountant!’”

  “Daniel,” I say, “what if that really is the other Dr. Venn? We don’t really know what he did when he bilocated here. Maybe he stayed for a while. Explored around Oxford. And some reporter just happened to film him.”

  “That sounds intriguing,” Sarah says with a yawn, “but I believe I will leave the two of you to sort it out. I have school in the morning, unfortunately, and then many more hours of cooking for our dear father’s party. Thank goodness we’re only called upon to celebrate him once every fifty years.”

  As she closes the door behind her, I glance at Daniel’s clock. It’s late, and I’m pretty tired, too. Although that may be more mental than physical. But I still wouldn’t mind putting this head to bed and waking up fresh in the morning. Maybe I’ll understand more after a good night’s sleep.

  “I think we should call it a night,” I say.

  Daniel suppresses a yawn of his own.

  I squeeze his hand and give him a quick kiss. “Thank you for talking to Professor Lacksmith today. And thank you for explaining all of that to me. I don’t know what it all means yet, but I know it’s probably important.”

  I’m just about to wake up Red so I don’t have to climb over him, but Daniel still hasn’t let go of my hand. “Audie?”

  “Hm?”

  “If that really was the other Dr. Venn, out for a walk when someone filmed him …”

  Daniel hesitates. That only makes me more curious. He isn’t like me, blurting out every idea that comes to him the second it crosses his brain. He always seems to take more time to think things through. By the time he’s ready to tell me something, he’s usually already processed it for a while. Look how long it took him to tell me he studies fungus.

  “This could work,” he says. “No matter what.”

  “What could work?”

  “You and me. Together,” he says. “Even if you find a way to go back.”

  42

  “It’s too early for this,” I mutter to Daniel.

  But there’s no stopping the face that swirls into focus on the screen between the front and back seats of the car.

  “Good morning, Regina,” I say.

  “It’s midnight here,” she corrects me. “I’ve had to stay up just to talk to you.”

  “Then let’s keep it short so you can go to bed.”

  “Are you out of your mind, young lady?” she demands. “What were thinking, announcing to a reporter that you intend to invest in that crackpot history studio?”

  I consider telling her the son of the crackpot studio’s owners is in the car with me, but she won’t care anyway.

  “It’s my money,” I remind her.

  “It’s your inheritance,” she reminds me, “which you don’t control until you’re eighteen.”

  “Then I’ll wait until I’m eighteen.”

  She doesn’t have an immediate answer for that.

  “We’ve managed to kill the piece,” she says instead.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did you think we’d let them air that? Thank goodness Jake was there. It might have gone live before we knew anything about it.”

  “Yes,” I agree, “it’s a very good thing Jake was there.” I’ll deal with him later. “Is that all, Regina? Because I have other things to do.”

  “You’re determined to continue being seen with that clown, Edgar Venn?”

  “As I told my father,” I answer, “Dr. Venn and my grandmother were very good friends. It’s a great comfort to talk to him about her. You know, about your mother.”

  Regina Markham dismisses that with a shrug. “I told your father you’d be impossible to control.”

  I can’t believe she just admitted that. But I like it. I like being the kind of person Halli’s parents can’t control. It fills me with immense pride.

  “You look really tired, Regina. You should probably go to bed.”


  If I knew how to hang up on her, I would. But I just have to wait for her to do it to me.

  “Why is he there?” she asks.

  I glance at Daniel. I hoped he was sitting far enough away from me that he wouldn’t be in range. But I have no idea how these holo screens work.

  “He’s my boyfriend. Daniel Everett, let me introduce you to my mother, Regina Markham. She’s a brilliant scientist and entrepreneur. You’ve probably heard of her.”

  I can tell the compliment throws her off guard. But she quickly recomposes herself. “I know who he is. I saw the reports two days ago.”

  I wonder if she means the reports of Daniel and me coming out of Dr. Venn’s office on Tuesday, or the reports that someone saw us kissing. Either way, I don’t really care what she thinks about it.

  “I imagine you’re feeling very pleased with yourself right now, aren’t you, Mr. Everett?”

  “Pardon me, ma’am?” he says.

  “Seducing my daughter to secure your family’s future.”

  “Okay, that’s it,” I tell her. “We’re done here. Sleep tight, Regina.”

  I knock on the divider, and when Jake turns around I give him the signal to cut off the comm. A second or two later, the screen goes blank.

  I slump back against the seat. I can’t say what I really want to right now, which is that every time I deal with her parents, I have more and more sympathy for Halli. But since I’m still not sure whether Jake can hear me back here, even without the ear buttons, I have to keep my thoughts to myself.

  Daniel puts his arm around me. I’ll take that. And Red is sleeping on the other side of me, his warm head on my lap. I’ll take that, too.

  It was kind of a rough night. Sarah had no trouble falling sleep, if her soft snores were any indication, but I lay awake for hours, rolling everything around in my mind.

  Especially that whole thing about grafting. I really get what Professor Lacksmith was saying. It makes sense when I think about the two lives I’ve lived as Halli. It’s the other stuff—the underground grafting—that’s harder for me to grasp. Even when I substitute Dr. Venn’s term of Greater Mind for the Mother Root.