The Stories: Five Years of Original Fiction on Tor.com

by Various

  “I hear you talking a lot about the program and I understand that’s important and all, but I’m not hearing anyone talk about what’s best for Homer Van Loon.”

  Dr. Connelly swiveled her chair to face Louise. “I appreciate your concern for the boy, but I don’t think you have an understanding of the historical context of the issue.”

  Her disdain lay barely under the surface of civility. Louise had seen this sort of new money back when she’d been working in the department store, and she always had been required to smile at them. No need now.

  “Young lady,” Louise snapped at Dr. Connelly like one of her own children, “I’ve lived through two World Wars, the Great Depression, the Collapse. I lived through race riots, saw us put men on the moon, the Spanish Flu, AIDS, the Titanic, Suffrage and the Internet. I’ve raised five children and buried two, got twenty-three grandchildren, eleven great-grandchildren and five great-great-grandchildren with more on the way. And you have the nerve to say I don’t understand history?”

  The room was silent except for the whir of the computer fans.

  Dr. Connelly said, “I apologize if we’ve made you feel slighted, Louise. We’ll take your concerns under advisement as we continue our deliberations.”

  If she hadn’t been a good Christian woman, she would have cracked the woman on the head with her cane for the amount of condescension in her voice.

  “How many people do you have that are my age?” She knew the answer to the question before she asked it. She might not use the Internet but she had grandchildren who were only too happy to do searches for her. A person couldn’t travel back before she was born, and Louise was born in 1905. There weren’t that many people of her age, let alone able-bodied ones.

  “Six.” Dr. Connelly looked flatly unimpressed with Louise’s longevity.

  Mr. Barnes either didn’t know where she was headed or agreed with her. “But you’re the only one that’s a native English speaker.”

  Louise nodded her head in appreciation. “So it seems to me that you might want to do more than keep my concerns ‘under consideration.’”

  A man on one of the screens spoke. “Are you blackmailing us, Mrs. Jackson?”

  “No sir, I’m not. I’m trying to get you to pay attention.” She straightened in her chair now that they were all looking at her. “You saw the video of me meeting him. Homer Van Loon is a boy out of time himself. He’s reading the Odyssey, which if you know anything about farm boys from 1905 ought to tell you everything you need to know right there. Not only will he believe me, he’ll understand why it needs to be kept secret—as if anyone would believe him anyhow. And if you think on it, having someone local to the time might be handy. He’s twelve now. When you send someone back to Black Friday, which you will I expect, he’ll be in his thirties. You think a man like that wouldn’t be helpful?”

  Mr. Barnes shook his head. “But we researched him today. His life was entirely unremarkable. If he knew you were a time traveler, wouldn’t that show up?”

  Louise took a breath to calm herself. “If he’s told to keep it a secret, and does, do you think his history would look any different?”

  One of the board members in the room, a lean man with wire-rim glasses, spoke for the first time.. “You’ve convinced me.”

  “Gerald!” Dr. Connelly swiveled to glare at him. “Conversations with a pig farmer are not what our investors have paid for.”

  And that was the real point that they had been dancing around in her presence. “I can do both.”

  They stared at her again, but she only looked at Mr. Barnes. “Can’t I? There’s no reason I can’t go back to the same time twice, is there?”

  He shook his head, slowly smiling. Oh, but he was completely on her side, wasn’t he. Louise beamed at him.

  “Well, then, why don’t you send me back for twenty minutes to talk to Homer to see how he took it. Twenty minutes. That’s all and then I’ll come back to the present and tell you how the conversation went. If Homer believes me, then I can hop back to the same spot and he can give me a ride to Huffman Prairie. I’ll get there about the same time as I would have walking. If it doesn’t, then you can send me to the B point and we’ll have tried.”

  Slowly in the screens heads began to nod. Dr. Connelly scowled and threw her hands up. “That’s two set-ups. Do you people know how much that costs? Just the transformer delay is cutting into our return. I can’t conscience this. We’re contracted to deliver footage of the Wright Flyer III, and you, madam, are contracted to do that for us.” She pointed at Mr. Barnes. “If she can go to the same time place twice, then send her to the same place she went today, but after she met the boy. We’d built in extra time for the walk, right?”

  Louise prayed that the Good Lord would grant her patience and give her strength to forgive this woman. And then Louise added a prayer that He would forgive her for being devious. “That should be fine.”

  Mr. Barnes shook his head. “He’ll still be there unless we send you too late to get to the field.”

  Never in her life had Louise wished for someone to lie, but she was beside herself wanting Mr. Barnes to be quiet. She was hoping that Homer had stuck around; in fact, she was counting on it so she could explain things to him.

  Dr. Connelly rolled her eyes. ”Not you too. You haven’t even met the boy.“

  ”No, but on the video he reminds me a lot of myself and, well, I’d still be there.” Mr. Barnes shrugged. “Can you imagine being twelve and seeing someone vanish?”

  “Anyone with sense would high-tail it out of there so whatever got her wouldn’t get them, too.” Dr. Connelly rolled her shoulders with blatant aggravation. “All right. Let’s say he’s more like you and still there. Send her back earlier so she can clear the site before the boy comes along. How much extra time will you need?”

  The teeth Louise had left all hurt to answer civilly. “It doesn’t take me but thirty minutes to get down the road to Huffman Prairie.“

  Dr. Connelly narrowed her eyes. ”I trust that you won’t try to wait and contact the boy instead of performing your contractual obligations.

  Louise sucked in her dentures and set her jaw before answering. “I said I’d get you photos of that Wright Flyer and I plan to do so.”

  “That’s not the same. I’ll need your word, Louise.”

  “Dr. Connelly. You have my word that I will not wait for Homer. But I want you to understand that I think this is a terrible thing.”

  “Noted.” She turned her attention to Mr. Barnes. “Given the trial runs, what’s the shortest amount of time she’ll need to be out of sight?”

  “There’s a bend in the road that she should reach in about ten minutes.”

  “Let’s set her down fifteen minutes early, then.” She surveyed the board. “Unless there are objections?”

  Nobody but Louise seemed to care, and she kept her mouth shut before she could say something not very Christian.

  * * *

  When the steel booth vanished this time, the field looked exactly as it had before, save that the sun hadn’t risen quite as high in the sky. The dust kicked up around her shoes as she walked, and it smelled of the mud pies she used to make as a child. She passed the knotted fence about where Homer had picked her up and kept on to where she thought they been when she vanished. The trees came down almost to the edge of the road and made a place to hide. Oh, but wasn’t she tempted to turn off and rest, waiting for Homer to turn up. There was even a natural bench where a tree had fallen.

  But even if she hadn’t given her word, they’d know if she waited because of that hat-cam. There was nothing to do but to get the photos fast enough so she could come back and talk to Homer before the plane flew. That wasn’t supposed to happen until eleven o’clock, which should give her plenty of time.

  She got to the bend in the road and looked back to see if Homer’s wagon was in sight, but didn’t see a sign of him yet. Louise headed on to Huffman Prairie and felt every year of her life as she walked.
Dust coated her shoes and the hem of her dress by the time she reached the field. A trickle of sweat crept between her scalp and the wig, driving her crazy with its slow progress across her skin.

  The hanger in the middle of the field was in worse shape than it was in her present. Some historical society had built a replica of the rough structure, but it bore little resemblance to the original. She dug into her handbag and pulled out a pair of opera glasses. Thumbing the switch, she turned on the high-definition digital camera embedded inside the case and began filming the barn and surrounding field. Sun cut across the field, weaving in and out of the tall grass like a child playing hide and seek. Across the way, a group of men in suits and ties were carrying the Wright Flyer III to the single rail track next to the hangar. The catapult tower stood in front of them, waiting to hurl the flyer down the rail and into the air.

  Louise lowered the opera glasses. Well now, she hadn’t expected them to start moving it so early, so maybe Dr. Connelly had a point after all.

  She’d seen photos of the plane, of course, but until this moment the reality of time travel hadn’t hit her. She recognized the Wright Brothers like they were her own family. The fellow down at the end with the handlebar mustache, that was Orville. And over there, with the bright blue eyes, was Wilbur, covering his bald head with a bowler, even while he was working.

  And then there was the plane. It was like a child’s model made large. A wood and cloth construction that was equal parts grace and lumbering ox. Looking at it, it was hard to believe that it would roll down the track, much less fly for half an hour. Louise raised the opera glasses to her eyes and filmed the men settle the plane on the track. They milled around then, while Orville Wright did something with the one wheel trolley underneath.

  She checked her watch. 8:45, which was about when she’d vanished on the first trip. There was two hours yet before the flight was going to happen. She’d need to hurry and snap the photo of that gear they wanted and then hurry down the road to meet Homer. There ought to be more than enough time to get down the road to Homer and be back for the flight.

  The board had their mission and she had hers. Tucking the opera glasses back into her bag, Louise made her way across the field. She wanted to run, but the uneven ground would cause her to stumble if she stepped out of walking pace.

  Wilbur looked up as she approached. From his face, she must make quite a picture. An old lady, in a fine plum walking suit, out by herself in a field full of men and machinery. Louise nodded her head. “Morning. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  “No ma’am.” Wilbur pulled a rag out of his pocket and hastily wiped his grease stained fingers off. “Can I help you with anything?”

  That was one of the handy things about being old, people were always wanting to help out. No telling if the people at the Time Travel Institute had thought of that or not. “I wanted to see what you gentlemen were doing out here. I’ve been reading about your efforts and they’re inspiring, I’ll tell you.” Louise moved around the wing of the plane toward the rudders, where the missing part was. Or not missing. Since the plane was whole and perfect. She turned so her hat-cam was pointing straight at him, recording for posterity. “Please don’t mind me. I’m just the nosy type.”

  “Um. Well. We’re getting ready for a trial flight, so if you don’t mind . . .”

  “Oh, I’ll stand over on the side when you take off.” She lifted the glasses again and aimed them at the part, moving around to get it from a different angle.

  He laughed. “I appreciate that ma’am. It’ll be another ten minutes or so.”

  Louise gasped. The records showed that they took off at eleven and that was two hours from now.

  “Something wrong ma’am?” His face was flushed and so alive that it was hard for Louise to credit that he’d been dead for close to seventy years where she came from.

  “No, no. I didn’t realize how soon it was. Somehow I got it in my mind that you were going to fly later today.” This time travel was a marvel. Standing here as they fiddled with whatever it was on the airplane, it made her pity poor Mr. Barnes who couldn’t travel back more than thirty years. What had there been to see in his lifetime that was like this?

  It made her wish she was a few years older so she could see their first flight. Louise worked her way around the plane, determined to film every inch of it. Did they know that it would break records today? “How long do you think you’ll fly today?”

  He grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s good of you to think it’ll get off the ground, ma’am.”

  Orville gave the wrench a twist on the gizmo. “The gentlemen are taking wagers so my brother doesn’t feel as if he can make predictions. It wouldn’t be ‘sporting.’” He lowered the tool and gestured at her with it. “How long do you think we’ll stay aloft?”

  “Well now, I’m not a betting person, so I couldn’t say.” If truth be told, she knew exactly how long it would take. Eighteen minutes and forty-two seconds. In two days, they would do the flight everyone talked about, where the machine stayed aloft for thirty minutes. But this flight, today, marks the first time it will stay aloft for more than a few minutes. There were no records of it because no one knew that it would be a historic moment.

  “Go on. We won’t write your name down,” one of the men said.

  “No, thank you sir. It’d be betting in my heart, because I’d still be hoping I was right.” Louise smiled at him but he shifted uncomfortably and tugged on his collar. Well, if it made him think better of his ways, that was all to the good, even if it wasn’t why she’d traveled through time to get here.

  After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, they got back to work and more or less ignored Louise, which suited her fine. She took pains to look at every inch of the flyer so no one at the Time Travel Institute could say she had neglected her duty when she went off after Homer.

  Orville said, “Is there anything you’re looking for in particular?”

  “Oh! No. Thank you. I’m fascinated.”

  He grunted and lifted his head. “Wilbur! Would you get me the oilcan?” Orville jiggled a gizmo on the front of the plane. “I don’t like the way the elevator is responding.”

  Nodding, Wilbur trotted over to the hangar while Orville continued to tweak the Flyer. “Wilbur’s a trusting sort.” He beckoned Louise closer. “The thing is, I don’t think we’ve ever had someone display so much interest in one of our flyers before, except industrial spies, of course.” He smiled at her, but his eyes were hard and narrow.

  It hadn’t even occurred to her what it must look like for her to be staring at the plane with opera glasses. “I’d so wished I’d seen your first flight that I’m determined not to miss a thing about this one.” She put on her best sweet little old lady face and pointed at the rudder. “What does this do?”

  Leaning in close to her, Orville kept his smile fixed. “It helps the flyer fly.”

  Behind her, Louise heard the squeal of pigs. She lost all interest in Orville and turned as Homer came thundering up to the field, driving the wagon faster than was wise. He pulled the horse up in a cloud of dust. Standing, he pointed at her. “I thought so!”

  “Excuse me, gentlemen.” Louise set her back to them and started walking across the field to meet Homer.

  He half ran at her but stopped before he got near enough to touch. “Are you a witch?”

  Back at the plane, one of the men muttered, “Well she’s old enough to be.”

  Louise half-turned her head to him. “I’m old but there isn’t a thing wrong with my hearing.” She faced Homer again. “And I’m not a witch.”

  “How do you explain disappearing and then turning up here?”

  She shook her head. “Walk with me, young man, and I’ll explain.”

  He crossed his arms. “Not a chance. I want witnesses to whatever you’re going to say. There’s no way that I’m going to let you take me off and enchant me.”

  The snickers again from behind her. Louise
sighed. “You want these gentlemen to think you’ve read too many penny-dreadfuls? Have you ever heard of witches outside of a storybook? Ever read about one in the papers? No. Because there’s no such thing.”

  “That might be so, but I saw you disappear with my own two eyes and I ain’t taking any chances.”

  “You took a chance coming here, didn’t you? If I’m what you say I am. What’s to stop me from vanishing right now and taking you with me if it were something I could do? So when I ask you to walk with me, I’d take it kindly if you would.”

  “What have you got to say that you’re afraid to say in front of these folks?”

  “Not a thing. I’m more worried about them thinking you’re any more touched than they already do.” She gestured toward the hanger. “I’m going to walk over there and you can come with me or not, as you like. I’ll keep at arm’s distance though, so you aren’t thinking I’ll grab you and haul you Lord knows where.” Without waiting for Homer to respond, she set out, stabbing the ground with her cane as she went. She figured that curiosity had brought him here and curiosity would make him follow her. Sure enough, she hadn’t got more than ten steps before she heard him coming along after.

  She waited until she was fairly sure she was out of earshot of the men at the flyer, and then waited a mite more before she started talking. “You ever read H. G. Wells?”

  “Of course I have.”

  “Well, that’ll make things a little easier.” She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. Homer was almost on her heels and half-stumbled back to keep out of arm’s reach. Louise snorted. “Do you remember the book The Time Machine?”

  Homer blinked and then guffawed. “You aren’t trying to tell me you’re from the future.”

  “Being a witch is more believable?”

  “Well. . . no offense, ma’am.” He dug his toe into the ground. “But a time traveler wouldn’t be old.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so either, but it turns out that time travel only works within the span of a person’s lifetime. They picked me because I was born this year.”