A Chronetic Memory (The Chronography Records Book 1)

by O'Hara, Kim K.

  “Discredited?” Doc offered.

  “Well, yes. I wasn’t going to use that word. But since you said it, I’ll ask the question that is going through all our minds: Why should we listen to you?”

  “I can answer that.” All eyes turned toward another scientist. Good, thought Lexil. Marielle would tell them.

  “You all know me, and most of you know I was here both before and after Dr. Seebak left. I can tell you with certainty that the grounds for his discreditation were completely fabricated—by the same people who are currently in police custody.”

  The murmurs swelled to loud voices. She raised her voice to speak over the noise.

  “In addition, his ongoing work with chronography has revealed a significant danger to the timestream. The question is not why you should listen to him, but how you could possibly refuse!”

  “What do you mean, danger?” the man demanded.

  “That’s what we’re here to find out,” said Marielle. “Dr. Seebak? Please continue.”

  “The danger is with the use of the VAO machine.” Doc held up the papers they had discovered in the sensor box. “We have a packet of research here that describes in detail the mathematics behind a timestream disruption that could make the stream collapse.”

  “Hypothetically.” The man was certainly persistent; Lexil would give him that!

  “No. There has already been a timestream disruption, and it was barely—barely—repaired. Because of the repair, we have no memory of it, but these papers document an actual occurrence.”

  More murmurs. A woman rose from her seat. She glared at the other questioner until he sat down. “How could the VAO machine cause damage?” she asked.

  “We need to study it more, but we believe that when the VAO conversion is recorded in permanent form, it removes objects from the timestream for that brief instant. At my private lab, we have ways of measuring disruptions. A small one might have no lasting effect. But remove the wrong object at the wrong time and you’ll have major consequences. We will be making no more VAO conversions until we understand when it is safe to do so.”

  Another woman stood and spoke over the buzz of voices. “Excuse me, Dr. Seebak, but what kind of work are we supposed to do, if we can’t record anything? Are we all going to be laid off?”

  The room fell silent.

  Doc shook his head. “Ten years ago, before they named it RIACH, the founders of this institution were engaged in scientific research. I remember that, because I was one of them. It’s different now. You focus on gathering evidence in criminal investigations and sampling thousands of objects with the hope of finding something historically significant. That’s appropriate. You have ‘Anthropology and Chronographic History’ in your name, after all. And that kind of research will go on, but we will stop at the VAO conversion step, for now. There will be no recordings, not until we figure this out.

  “But who better to figure it out than chronographic scientists? I propose that some of you, who want to return to scientific research, form a division to dig deeper, learn more, and open all our eyes to what can still be an exciting new field of scientific inquiry. Are any of you interested in that? Could I see a quick show of hands?”

  Hands went up, a few at a time, and Lexil counted, because he knew he would be working with some of these people. Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven. A good number, he thought, but he was disappointed that almost all of them were from the intern section. From the way Doc had described their jobs, the interns must be tired of the tedium. I would be too, he thought. But he had hoped for inspired minds, and he was going to have to settle for glorified flunkies.

  Doc was speaking again. “Good! Please come see me after this meeting so I can get your names. We’ll set up some interviews later. If there are no further questions, I’d like to introduce my associate, Lexil Myles. He has been working alongside me since he was a teenager. His research in temporal distortion, while unpublished, is leaps and bounds ahead of anything else in the field. This packet of papers that details the specifics of the disturbance from the altered timestream came to us in his handwriting, presumably from the Lexil that existed there.”

  He paused, then grinned. “Good thing I had one of my own, because almost nobody else can read his handwriting!”

  “Hey!” Lexil said. “It’s not that bad.”

  Chuckles from the audience. He’d have a warmer reception when he got up there than Doc had faced.

  His mentor was still speaking. “He’ll be heading up the new division, and reporting to the new board of directors.”

  That was his cue. Lexil stepped over two steps straight up onto the platform. Long legs had their advantages. He took the packet from Doc and glanced at it. Two scrawled lines at the bottom of the first page, in an unfamiliar handwriting, reminded him he had one more project of his own.

  The first line instructed them to take their findings to Marak Wallace and Detective Tom Rayes, and they had done that. The detective had already been working an angle on a related case, which ended up with Dr. Hunter’s arrest. Marak Wallace had cut through all the scientific data to the heart of the matter and used his considerable reporter’s influence to get the ear of lawmakers, the mayor, and the governor himself. As much as he disliked government oversight, Lexil had to admit that in this case, it had shut down the VAO conversions much more effectively than they would have been able to do on their own.

  The second line was more puzzling: “D. Adams will be helpful with further study.” After the meeting was over, he meant to go to the administrative offices and check the employee lists for someone with that name.

  People were waiting for him to speak. He held up the packet. “The research we’ve been doing at our lab ties in neatly with these records. We have a series of sensors that have been sealed for the last fifteen years, much like your observation boxes. We’ve paired them with sensors that are left open to whatever changes the timestream undergoes. The differences appear as blips—for want of a better term—on a viewwall and serve as a warning that something has changed.”

  “Will you move those sensor pairs to this lab?” The voice came from the back of the room. As he was scanning the room, trying to spot the speaker, a young woman in a blue lab coat stood up. She continued, “Or will we be going off site?”

  He glanced at Doc. Should he answer questions from the interns? There were so many of them, the meeting could get confusing quickly. But Doc nodded.

  So he answered. “We’ll be bringing them here, and also installing new ones, with improvements we will be developing as part of the project. Those who work with us in the new division will get familiar with the sensors and their output very quickly. I have to warn you, though: We won’t be taking many interns.”

  “I’ll look forward to the interview, then,” she answered, looking at him steadily. Cheeky, but kind of appealing, he had to admit.

  She sat down and another man stood up. Not one of the interns this time. Good.

  “I wasn’t able to post assignments this morning. Is this part of the changes?”

  A better question for Doc, but he knew the answer. “As I understand it, we’re encouraging research groups to meet together at the beginning of each day, for now. We want you all to be fully informed as we make changes, and have an avenue for asking questions and getting answers. You’ll be able to assign responsibilities at those meetings.”

  He answered a few more questions. Then they dismissed the group, inviting those who were interested to stay behind and leave their names. They were down to the last intern. It was the bold one who had spoken up during the questions. She reached out her hand to introduce herself.

  “Danarin Adams. I’m very interested in working with your team.”

  Lexil froze and took her hand automatically. He liked her handshake. It was firm, confident, totally competent.

  This could work out well.

  WALLACE HOME, Lower Queen Anne, Seattle, WA. 1730, Friday, June 23, 2215.

  Marak we
lcomed her at the door, as usual. “Hey, Dani. How bad were the upheavals at RIACH this week?”

  “You want to know the results of your handiwork?” she asked, wrinkling her nose at him and trying to hide a grin.

  Kat came out of the kitchen, carrying a glass of iced tea. “Thirsty? He’s been pestering me all week to find out if I’ve talked to you.”

  Dani took the iced tea with a nod of thanks.

  “And she keeps saying, ‘Yeah, I’ve talked to her,’ and then clamming up. Sure glad I don’t have to interview her for a living.”

  Dani laughed. She couldn’t ask for better friends. “Lots of changes. Seems like everything’s for the better, though. Except…” She looked at Kat. “…except finding out that your uncle was involved.”

  “That’s hard to get my head around,” said Kat. “That person who did all those things—that’s not the uncle I know.”

  “It’s hard for me to understand too,” said Marak.

  “I’m so angry about what he’s done. On the other hand, he’s the reason we met! I wish I could sit down with him and ask, ‘What were you thinking?’ But he won’t even talk to me.”

  “Give him time.” Marak gave her a little side hug. “He’ll see you when he’s had some time to think.”

  “I hope so.”

  “What about you?” Dani asked Marak. “After all your work, you didn’t even get to submit the whole story of the timestream repair to the paper, did you?”

  He grimaced. “No. They said it didn’t happen, so it wasn’t news. The news was that it didn’t happen.” Then he smiled and winked. “But that’s all right. I’m already working on the book.”

  “How will the changes affect you, personally?” Kat asked Dani. “You didn’t know much when we had lunch on Monday.”

  “Well, for starters, we meet in groups every morning and interact directly with a researcher. We hear about the projects we’re working on, and the assignments feel more like part of a group effort than isolated tasks. Sometimes it’s even the same type of task, but because we’re working together, there’s more opportunity for discussion and sharing what we’ve found.”

  “Wow, that’s a big change, isn’t it?” Marak asked.

  “It is! And there’s a bigger change coming.” Dani paused to draw out the suspense, but the dramatic moment was spoiled utterly when Jored tore through the force-field screen over the back door.

  “Dani! I heard your voice! Can we play chess? Did you bring me anything? Are you staying for dinner? Wanna come see what I built outside?”

  She returned his enthusiastic hug. “Hey, bud! Slow down. I’m here for the evening. There’ll be lots of time for all that.”

  “Okay! I’ll get it ready for you!” And before she could respond, he dashed back outside.

  “It’s like you’re his playmate, instead of his grown-up friend.” Kat was shaking her head.

  “And you love it,” Marak told his wife.

  “Yeah, I love it.” She smiled at him and turned back to Dani. “Let’s go sit down and you can tell us about the big change at work.”

  “They’ve started a new division, dedicated to researching temporal disturbances. How to monitor them, what causes them, how to stop them, even how to fix them, if necessary. It’s real research with lots of promise.”

  “How will that affect you?” asked Kat. “Will you have a part?”

  “Yes, I got the notification today. At first, they were saying they didn’t want interns involved, but I guess I made an impression.”

  “At your interview?” Kat wanted all the details, of course.

  “No. They didn’t even call me for an interview.”

  “That’s unusual,” said Marak.

  “Yeah, it was. I think they may have decided at the first meeting.” Dani paused to remember. “And that was weird, because it sure seemed as if he didn’t want me to put my name on the list at all. They were already packing up to go.”

  “He? Who?” asked Kat.

  “Lexil Myles. He’s heading up the division.”

  “He’s a little young for that, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, that’s what I…” She glanced at her friend, sharply. “How did you know that?”

  Kat shrugged. “I’ve just heard of him, that’s all. Through my…uncle.” Her face darkened again.

  “You’re right. He’s not much older than I am. He didn’t look interested at all, until I said my name. And then—the strangest thing—he acted like he’d heard it before, and then he smiled.” Dani trailed off.

  Kat leaned forward. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she looked up at her friend and blushed. “I mean, it was probably nothing. Anyway, four days later, I got my notice. Oh, and it comes with a promotion. No more blue lab coat.”

  “That calls for a celebration,” said Marak. “I’ve got a secret stash of chocolate hidden away for just such an occasion.”

  “You have chocolate that you’re hiding from me?” Kat frowned at him.

  “If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have it now to celebrate with, would I?”

  “No, probably not.”

  “Okay then. Dani, would you like some chocolate?”

  Jored stepped through the force-field screen. “Chocolate? I would! I would!”

  Dani laughed. “Let’s save it for dessert, okay?”

  “Aw.” His face fell. He looked so much like his dad sometimes.

  “Hey, you want to play a game of chess while we wait for dinner?”

  He beamed. “Yeah! Right now?”

  “Yes, right now. Which do you want, white or black?”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Kim K. O’Hara is a high school math and publications teacher who lives in Lacey, WA, and relishes frequent visits from two irresistible granddaughters. She loves reading, writing, and recreational math, but seldom gets in the mood for housework. You can reach her by email at kimkohara.author@gmail.com. Sign up for new book notifications at www.pagesandnumbers.com.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Hey! You made it to the end. What do you think, will Dani and Lexil stand a chance in the restored timestream? I am excited about writing the next book in the series, and your comments can contribute to the story that's told. What and who would you like to see more of?

  On the next page, Kindle will give you the opportunity to rate this novel and tell your friends on Facebook and Twitter that you’ve just finished it. Please take a few seconds to help make my book more visible by rating it or leaving a sentence or two as a review. I’m eager to hear from you, and I’ll be reading every comment!

  With gratitude, Kim