by Trisha Leigh
If honor and duty meant more than the people we loved, then it stood to reason that it also took precedence over the tiny cracks that had widened into impossible crevasses between friends, and even between True Companions.
We had to find a way to fix things, all three of us. We were the only ones who knew anything untoward was going on, aside from my brother and his friends. Since they were fugitives confined to the vastness of space, Oz, Sarah and I needed to step up.
Together.
Chapter Two
We woke up to wrist comms notifying all Historians, certified and apprentices, of a mandatory briefing in the largest common area following breakfast. After the first two or three years, most of us chewed protein tabs instead of making time to grab real food before our initial assignments of the day, anyway.
Since mornings counted among my least favorite things, I was definitely in that camp. Analeigh had been one of those annoying morning people who loved a big breakfast.
As if there were any other kind.
Sarah and I dressed in silence, pulling on matching uniforms of supple black leggings and dark long-sleeved shirts; thin but deceptively protective since they were made of a synthetic Kevlar blend. Yumi was gone when I woke up—did she have an early session? Did she like to have breakfast before everyone else? Was she sneaking out to meet Levi?
A frown tugged at my lips. The harder my brain searched for the answers, the farther away they scurried. The fact that they all remained stubbornly outside my grasp made me uncomfortable, as though someone else’s thoughts were playing hide-and-seek inside my skull.
I shook my head, casting off the strange sensations associated with thinking too hard about Yumi and tugged my hair into a messy bun on top of my head. Sarah looked perfect, as usual, with her short blond hair brushed until it shone. She ignored me even as we left the room together and headed down the hall to the meeting side-by-side.
It never crossed my mind to be worried about the reason we’d all been summoned. Curious, perhaps, since the all-Academy briefings were few and far between—the last one had been about Analeigh’s expulsion and subsequent labeling as a fugitive and pirate—but surely if something else that big had gone down the rumor mill would have already delivered the news. I may have lost my best friend, but Levi and Peyton still talked to me. They thought all of the sneaking around and meeting my True was romantic and daring and somehow made me cooler as far as our class gossips were concerned.
Their insensitivity grated, but I wasn’t in a position to turn down friends.
They saved me a seat even though Jessica, who had not decided I was cooler for breaking a few rules, couldn’t have cared less. Levi waved me over, a wild sparkle in his eyes that could only mean one thing—he smelled gossip. The source of all the juiciest tidbits, he’d been trying to wrestle nonexistent secrets about Oz and me for months.
“Hey.” I flopped down into one of the hard chairs that had been set up.
Yumi sat on Levi’s other side, their hands dangerously close to touching. She gave me a smile of greeting, which I returned. Sometimes I felt badly for not including her more; it wasn’t her fault that she took Analeigh’s place. But most of the time my sadness trumped my good manners.
This room normally had a ring of chairs around the edges of a large, wooden floor and a few scattered tables for studying or socializing—it also played host to our most recent certification ceremony.
“Hi.” Levi’s eyes strayed behind me, and I followed them to find Oz slouching through the door.
“What’s going on?” I asked, ignoring his raised eyebrows. “Any idea?”
Levi shrugged. Peyton leaned around Yumi, her dark hair swinging over her shoulder. “He doesn’t know,” she hissed. “It’s killing him.”
“Hmm.”
Silas Bohr, one of the Elders who spent almost no time teaching or overseeing these days, cleared his throat at the front of the room. The fact that it wasn’t Zeke Midgley, the informal head of our Elders, addressing us tugged my lips down in a harder frown. He stood off to the side with the rest of the Elders, a glower darkening his face.
A shiver zipped down my spine. He had frightened me even before both my brother and Analeigh had warned us that he was the key to the entire Return Project—that his ancestor was Thomas Midgley, a man who had more negative impact on the environment of Earth Before than any other single human being. It seemed to indicate that the goal of the Return Project might be to right the wrongs of their forebears…and to return to Earth Before in the process?
All of that information was according to Analeigh. She claimed he had invented or discovered both leaded gasoline and hydrofluorocarbons, but since we were all terrified to get caught in the same holofiles that had gotten her into trouble, we hadn’t verified.
That I knew. It wasn’t like Oz talked to me about what was going on in his life.
“Thank you for arriving so promptly,” Elder Bohr said, his voice scratchy. He was one of the younger Elders, probably in his late thirties, with a close-cropped beard hugging his ruddy cheeks and chin. He had the air of a serious academic about him, like in the movies we watched set on Earth Before of colleges, and none of us liked him because of his general disdain for teaching. And also people.
The room quieted immediately, an air of curiosity and anticipation rippling through us. My hands squeezed into fists that were the slightest bit sweaty.
“That’s probably the first time he’s ever said thank you in his life,” I muttered to Levi, who snorted so loud he earned a chorus of dirty looks from some of the recently certified Historians in front of us.
“We’ve had a few glitches in the Archives over the past twenty-four hours that some of us felt were concerning enough to report to the Genesis Council.” He paused, sliding a look toward the gathered group of his colleagues that was impossible to decipher. A murmur swept through the rows of seats, all of us wondering what could have possibly happened that made them go outside our Academy.
I was stuck on the phrasing: some of us. Which meant not everyone was for involving outsiders in the issues. If only there were a way to know who we could trust.
Then again, it didn’t surprise me that there were some who were less than excited about involving Elders from the other Academies. After all, the Genesis Council only dealt with serious infractions. Calling them in was a big deal, even if our simple, streamlined laws typically made any sanction pretty much a foregone conclusion.
If I was mildly curious before, the tightness in my chest combined with my sweaty palms and signaled the presence of real nerves. Based on Jessica’s clasped hands and the way Peyton was about to fall out of her seat with anticipation, we’d all picked up on how the anticipation in the room had lowered to a hum of shared anxiety.
“There have been instances while studying our recordings, which you know are incapable of being altered after they’re stored, and finding people in them who no longer exist in the minds of people in Genesis. People who should, by all accounts, be here but are not. Alternatively, we believe that if this is happening—people disappearing—and some alteration to the past is to blame, that the opposite could also be true.” Elder Bohr paused and took a sip of the glass of water on the stool to his right as that sunk in for his audience.
The opposite of people disappearing would have to mean…people appearing who shouldn’t be alive here, now?
The moment Elder Bohr said “some alteration to the past is to blame”, all of the moisture had evaporated from my mouth. My tongue stuck to the roof and my heart raced as my eyes roved toward Oz’s without permission. That machine the Elders were trying to hide, the Projector, had assured us that making sure Caesarion died as he was meant to put everything back to right, but what if it hadn’t?
Our gazes collided and we shared a moment, then another, until his jaw tightened. He gave the slightest shake of his head, gray eyes steady, and I exhaled. Oz didn’t think this…whatever was happening was our fault.
Which
didn’t mean it wasn’t, but the fist closing around my heart eased, anyway.
Knowing what we knew, it did seem far more likely the Elders themselves were to blame for these glitches or alterations. Which led to the question of why they would report it at all.
I shifted in my seat, glancing around at the worried, stunned faces of my classmates and friends. No one knew what to think—this was unheard of.
I knew what I thought, of course. And it was that we had way too many questions and not nearly enough answers.
“There is no reason to panic,” Elder Bohr continued. “But if anything seems out of place to you, or you come across an oddity while working on Reflections or researching for outings, please bring it to our attention so that we can elevate it.”
I snuck a look at Zeke, sure all the way to my bones that he must be against this decision to involve the Council in Historian business. Especially since we were figuring out this whole nutball idea of somehow leaving Genesis and returning to a restored Earth.
“The purpose of this briefing is simply to ease your worries should you encounter a member of the Council at our Academy in the coming days, or should one approach you. If you have any questions, please direct them to your overseers.” He finished abruptly and stepped away from the podium, sweeping past the group of his huddled peers and out of the room.
We assumed we were dismissed and filed out as quietly as the rampant, hissed conversations between us allowed. Levi and Peyton were flinging theories back and forth but I stayed silent, turning the implications of what they’d told us—along with the near certainty that it wasn’t everything—over in my mind.
“What do you think, Kaia? Is one of us about to disappear?” Levi grinned and waggled his fingers like he thought this whole thing was some sort of old horror or magic movie, but the hesitance in his dark eyes betrayed him.
He was scared, and I thought we all had good reason to be.
I shrugged, forcing a smile. They didn’t know the things I did, at least not all of them, and hopefully they never would. “Maybe. Let’s hope it’s you.”
“Hey! That’s not funny!”
“I mean, it’s kind of funny,” Jessica said in a rare moment of agreement as we made our way down the cavernous hallways to the room full of research and fashion pods.
We were all scheduled for trips in the next couple of days. Oz, Sarah, Levi, and I were headed to Montgomery, Alabama, in 1965. That left Jessica, Peyton, and Yumi headed to the coronation of Queen Victoria. Both were rare positive Observations, and Alabama would be one of the first trips Oz and I had been allowed on together in over four months.
We must have finally convinced the Elders that we weren’t in a constant struggle to keep our hands off each other, an idea that still struck me as so silly.
If Sarah and I hadn’t been held back as a form of sanction, our certification exams and new status as Historians would be just a few months away. As it was, Levi, Peyton, Jess, Yumi, and even Oz—thanks to his father’s pull as an Elder—would move on without us. Yet another reason for her to resent my family, since it was the illegal tech she built for my pirate brother that landed her in her own pot of hot water.
The thought of a whole year more of being watched, of not being able to travel without supervision, sat like an elephant on my chest. And not only because I’d dreamed of picking a specialty and designing my own research schedule for years.
It was the fact that the Elders wanted me here so that they could keep an eye on me. So that they could continue to use my family and Analeigh as leverage to encourage me to keep my mouth shut about the Return Project, and my eyes, too.
After the meeting we’d just had, I wasn’t sure I could sit and do nothing while everyone else paid for my mistakes.
While the entire population of Genesis was in danger of paying with their very existence, if the Elders got something wrong. Which they had, I guessed, if people were disappearing. Oz and I worried that the Projector might not be able to catch every little alteration, every small ripple, that a change to our past might set off.
“Hey.” Oz uttered the word under his breath as he sidled up like my thoughts had conjured him from thin air.
Everyone else had gone ahead, discussing the implications of people appearing or disappearing and whether or not we would even notice if our pasts had somehow flipped. Sarah disappeared after the meeting but she’d be on time for class. Which didn’t leave the two of us much time to talk.
“Hi.” I wrinkled my nose at the almost tearful relief in my voice.
He’d been ignoring me for so long that even though the awkwardness between us was strong enough to choke on, I wanted to hug him for speaking to me voluntarily.
Which counted as the first time I’d ever wanted to hug Oz.
“We need to talk.”
I couldn’t help glancing ahead as we both kept moving, dreading the moment that Levi turned and saw us back here chatting under our breath like cohorts.
Or something more icky.
I licked my lips. “I know, but how?”
“Can you come to my room before dinner tomorrow? Tell Sarah and Yumi that you need to exercise or want to go over your recordings from the Martin Luther King trip.”
“Okay.”
Last semester they wouldn’t have bought it, but now? All I did was study and run laps. There wasn’t much else to do.
Oz’s long strides left me behind as we followed our friends into the research lab, where fashion pods were waiting to assist us with choosing period-appropriate clothing for the impending trip. They all talked about the meeting, still wondering what it could mean, but Sarah was silent. So was Oz.
Tears gathered in my eyes at the thought of how much fun Sarah, Analeigh and I used to have with this part of the process. How we could have chattered the entire time until someone told us to shut up.
But Oz wants to talk. You’re not alone. You can figure this out.
Back in my room, alone with the door closed safely behind me, I held that little shred of hope tight in my hands. Maybe things would never be the way they were before, but maybe they could still get better.
Because we needed to change. Had to, if we were going to fight what the Elders were trying to do on Earth Before.
We had been trained to protect the past, to mine its lessons. Looking into the future wasn’t natural for us, but if we wanted to figure out what the Elders were planning, we would have to retrain our minds. Not to forget what we’d been taught but to look at our own world in a different light—as something that needed to be protected and preserved, too.
Before last semester, the thought that I would be called on to protect Genesis from our own Elders who were playing fast and loose with the rules that kept us all safe would never have entered my mind.
But that was the way things were. It was time to put my chin up, take a hard look at the truth, and stop pretending that it would all go away.
Chapter Three
Montgomery, Alabama, United States of America, Earth Before - March 25, 1965 C.E. (Common Era)
We always researched the events we would travel to ahead of time, and from the first day I dug into the history of the march from Selma, Alabama to the state capitol in Montgomery it had intrigued me more than most. Martin Luther King, Jr., was not a man whose name could be omitted from anyone’s perusal of history, whether casual or studied. His descendants lived in Genesis even now—one of them was in the newest class at the Academy.
The famous trek from Selma had begun in concept almost a month previously, but because of the horrible reactions to it, had only commenced in practice four days before we were to join in. They would complete the march in less than twelve hours, in fact, and our main objective was merely to blend in and observe how the success—however temporary—made people feel. Watch the speeches, listen to the music, things like that.
Booth was our overseer for the trip, his weathered, coffee bean skin easily hidden among the marchers. It made me glad, too, b
ecause he was my favorite—and the least inclined to give me trouble.
He stood in the travel pod watching over us like a concerned parent as he checked our clothing choices and hairdos before setting the correct time and date on the travel cuff ringing his wrist. None of the rest of us had them—they were for certified Historians only. I’d had Jonah’s last semester, and used it to go see Caesarion. I missed it like a lost appendage even though it had barely been mine long enough to leave a mark.
Now, after being delayed, I would have to wait an entire year for my own. And that was only if nothing else went wrong.
The pod was chilly, as always, though our season-appropriate clothing did work to ward off the typical chill that oozed from our metal and glass structures. Everyone else seemed to be looking forward to the trip, if their relaxed postures and expressions of anticipation were any clue—it was so rare that we went into the past not expecting to witness something horrific in one way or another.
Odd, almost, that they would give us this assignment.
“Everyone ready?” Booth asked, checking us again.
Four kids, four pairs of glasses to record the events. Four apprentices—Sarah, Oz, Levi, and me—all nodded in response to his question.
“Very well. Stay close once we’re there—within sight. Nothing is supposed to happen over the next four days but times were troubled.”
It could have been a trick of the ear, but it almost sounded as if he said “times are troubled.” Not were. As if perhaps the meeting yesterday might have been about more than people disappearing, or appearing. If the past had changed, how could any of us know what to expect when we stepped into it, even on trips that had been taken dozens of times before now?
I shook away the thought. Booth wouldn’t take us anywhere dangerous. I had to believe that, because at this point, I had to be able to believe in something.
