by Walker, Rysa
“Right. The bonus for the geo category is making your moves only in locations not directly connected to the main objective, so yeah . . . New York is a safer bet than Washington.” I add NYC to the notes on the screen. “There are a few different ways to max out chronological, but the bonus is for moving in reverse order, which is risky because it means you can’t consider any follow-on effects. So if whatever you change in move three alters the impact of your first two moves, or even reverses them, you’re screwed. The bad news here is that if we want to negate those style points, we’ll have to work backward as well. The most popular way to get full points for the chronological category is to limit your moves to a two-year period, although there are some kitschy things added to later iterations, where you make every move on a specific day of the week, a specific time of day, or only on even-numbered days. Serious players usually avoid those because they’re a pain to engineer, and they can also screw with style points in the other categories because they limit your flexibility. So it seems like a safe bet that they went with the two-year window.”
“The earliest date we have for any of these is the event at Madison Square Garden on February 20, 1939,” Rich says. “The last that we know for certain is Lindbergh being shot roughly a year later on February 22, 1940. Assuming those predictions are both accurate, the other event—which I think we’ll all agree must have something to do more directly with Japan—would need to happen between February 1938 and February 1941 in order to maintain that two-year window. Although . . . do we know when Coughlin switched from Catholic to Cyrist?”
We find that Coughlin’s official announcement was on February 13, 1939, but there are slight deviations in the historical record several months before that. The first occurred exactly a week after Coughlin stated that the Nazi persecution of Jews during Kristallnacht, a few weeks prior, was a justified response to Jewish persecution of Christians. These comments were made during his regular Sunday radio sermon, which was syndicated nationwide and reached a weekly audience of as many as thirty million listeners. Leaders in the Catholic hierarchy were highly critical of Coughlin’s comments, but they had been critical for quite some time and hadn’t managed to fully rein him in. His latest remarks were a bridge too far for some of his advertisers, however, and several stations that carried his show, most notably WMCA in New York City, demanded that he submit his scripts in advance for their clearance, since the broadcasts were live. Coughlin refused.
All of that tracks with the previous historical record. At this point, however, things start to diverge. In the current timeline, Coughlin supporters began picketing WMCA the very next day. Several days later, it was announced that the station was under new ownership and would again be carrying Coughlin’s sermons. Things seemed to die down a bit over the holidays, and then on February 12th, the Bund started running new advertisements for its Pro-America Rally at Madison Square Garden. The two posters for the Pro-America Rally are virtually identical, except that the new poster includes the names of several additional speakers, including Lawrence Dennis, Elizabeth Dilling, and Brother (rather than Father) Charles Coughlin. It was apparently a clerical error, but there must have been other stuff going on in the background that the church hierarchy learned about, because the next day, Coughlin held a press conference, declaring that the Catholic Church had failed to recognize the threat of communism and the role of the Jewish people in its spread. While he would still remain a Catholic in his heart, and continue to pray that God would put the church back on track, he would be continuing his ministry under the wide umbrella of Cyrisism, where people of all faiths could find a home . . . although there was a clear inference that this didn’t include Jews. He would now be known as Brother Coughlin, in keeping with Cyrist custom, but he would still view his vast audience of listeners as his children.
Alex calls up Jarvis again. “Save list on the screen as Lindbergh speeches. Then compare internal and external sources, and highlight differences in the historical record that involve Japan between February 1938 and February 1940, inclusive.”
The list isn’t long, and most of the differences seem too superficial to be what we’re looking for. There’s a mention of additional economic sanctions against Japan, but that would probably have increased tensions. The reported mugging of two Japanese tourists. A one-day difference in the date of a diplomatic meeting. One item stands out immediately, however. According to an article from the archives of the Daily Intrepid (which is apparently the Daily Intrepid-Herald after January 1941 in this timeline), a security officer at the New York World’s Fair was killed while trying to prevent an attack on Kensuke Horinouchi, Japanese ambassador to the US. Horinouchi was preparing to give an address on Japan Day at the New York World’s Fair. He suffered a minor injury when he was tackled to the ground. The attack was not, however, mentioned in an exhaustive four-hundred-page dissertation, A Sociopolitical History of the 1939–40 World’s Fair, that was protected by the CHRONOS field. It almost certainly would have been mentioned, since the attacker was supposedly a nephew of Earl Browder, head of the Communist Party USA. It’s definitely the sort of item the dissertation would have covered, given that the author devoted an entire chapter to an unsolved terrorist attempt to bomb the British Pavilion at the Fair the following summer, on the Fourth of July, which was thwarted at the cost of two police officers’ lives.
I ask Jarvis to pull up all the differences in the historical record for the World’s Fair. He coolly informs me that my voice isn’t recognized, and so I punt to Alex. Again, the list isn’t long and most of the changes are minor. A few events with different or additional speakers. A few additional protests, including one by members of the local America First chapter. A protest speech by Coughlin, who is now listed as head Templar for the Cyrists’ midwestern region, outside the gates of the Fair on opening day, claiming that the event was funded by international communist sympathizers. Ongoing protests by Coughlin’s organization the Christian Front, which seems to have become the Universal Front in this timeline, urged both Cyrist and Christian men “to crusade against the anti-American forces of the Red Revolution.”
The last four articles in the list, however, all deal with a single event—the aforementioned bombing on the Fourth of July. This time, however, the bomb was not removed by the officers, both of whom survived to patrol another day. The small case was instead placed under a cluster of bushes near the Court of Peace at the fairground, where it exploded during a parade by members of the US Navy and Marines. When the bomb exploded just after five p.m., seventeen people—eight military and nine civilians—were killed. Another thirty-two were hospitalized. At the command of Mayor La Guardia, the New York City police rounded up nearly a hundred likely suspects for questioning, including members of the German-American Bund, assorted fascists, and members of Coughlin’s Universal Front, who had been protesting the internationalist theme of the Fair since it opened the year before. A British spy was arrested as he boarded a flight for London the following week. He eventually confessed to planting the bomb but swore that he’d planted it in the British Pavilion, not the Court of Peace, with the charge set to go off overnight. The goal had been to frame the German-American Bund for the attack, and they’d planned it carefully to ensure there was no loss of life and the only damage was to British property inside the pavilion.
“Okay,” Rich says, after we add this latest change to the board. “That complicates matters. Which three events did they cause, and which ones are spin-offs? They can only do three, right?”
“Right,” Tyson says. “Although I can’t help but wonder how the system is going to handle incidental events. I mean, when you’re playing as a simulation, you enter your moves directly. But with this, you could have major unintended consequences that are never officially entered. Alisa actually said they’d had several bits of serendipity when things went their way, and I can imagine scenarios where those might be the changes that flipped the timeline. Take that bombing. If you’re playing on a sim-sys
tem, you just enter in that you were placing a bomb in that location with X number of casualties, including the maharaja of East Bhutan or whatever. But someone actually placing a bomb—or in this case, moving it—can’t guarantee that they’ll take out their target, can’t guarantee the number of casualties, and can’t really even guarantee that the bomb will work. They might trip on something on the way to the location and end up killing themselves, although come to think of it, they’d probably outsource risky work like that to one of their lackeys. The system really needs to take that into account, especially if these people aren’t clued in to the fact that they’re changing the futures of real live humans. That observer Katherine shot at the hotel and the two Jack and Madi erased all took on far greater risks than the actual historians.”
That comment, of course, makes me think yet again of the man in Memphis, who was almost certainly an observer. A man who paid God only knows how much money to travel through time and across dimensions to help radically alter history and who was perfectly willing to pick up a rifle and fire it into a crowded lobby. But did he know they were real people? Or did he believe they were the humanoid equivalents of the eagle avatar we saw at the history center? He certainly didn’t have any qualms about shooting at them, and that’s one reason I didn’t hesitate to fire on him in turn. One second, he was leaning against the railing, pointing the rifle down at the lobby below, and the next he was on the ground with a dark-red hole in his back.
Rich huffs angrily. He doesn’t often get irritated at Tyson, so the stress and lack of decent sleep must be getting to him. “Those guys volunteered. Probably even paid for the privilege of coming over here and screwing up our timeline. They knew what they were getting into.”
Tyson is quiet for a moment and then gives Rich a nod of admission. “Sure. I’m not saying it’s the same as killing innocent bystanders. But . . . we don’t know how much information they have. They might well believe that this is some sort of hyped-up VR experience. Do they know it has real consequences for us, or do they view us as we might view nonplayer characters in a game? I’m just thinking that if I were judging the contest, or programming the simulation, I’d probably deduct points for being overly careless with pawns . . . on either side.” He holds up a hand at Rich, who looks like he’s about to object. “We may not have any choice, but I’m just saying that I think any damage to the observers could hurt our score. Plus, they’re people who may not have full information on this competition. Maybe we should try to avoid harming them. I’m not blaming Katherine. Nor am I blaming Madi or Jack. In their places, I’d have done the exact same things. In fact, if I hadn’t been seeing double at the time, I’d have been the one to take that shot in Montgomery.”
“So why even bring it up?” Rich asks. “Because it sure sounds like you’re assessing blame.”
I put my hand on Richard’s arm. “It’s okay. He’s right. Obviously, we should avoid killing if at all possible. Maybe it’s a good thing that we don’t have observers in the field. At least we’re not putting anyone else at risk.”
We narrow down our initial guesses to five, all of which seem speculative and probably dead wrong, but that’s the norm in time chess. I’ve only seen a handful of initial predictions pan out, even in professional-level play. We’re holding off on deciding which three of the five to select until Madi returns. I very nearly ask why Madi didn’t simply return an hour ago, but then realize she’s probably trying to limit her time around me, due to fears of screwing up the long, tortuous path that leads to her eventual conception. I’m guessing she’ll cut it close to the wire and show up just before we enter the fingertip drive into the console at a little after four p.m. That gives me about forty-five minutes.
“I’m going to go get a shower,” I say. “Once the clock is ticking on the game, we’ll barely have time to brush our teeth.”
Rich follows me into the hallway, and when we’re about halfway down the corridor, he pulls me aside. “Are you okay?”
I nod, but the concern in his voice brings tears to my eyes in an instant, and he pulls me into a hug.
“It’s okay,” he says as I bury my face into his shoulder. “If you need to cry, then cry. You lost more today than any of us. I barely see my family. Same goes for Tyson. But you see your parents all the time. Angelo, too. Your bond with him is different than ours. And then . . .” He sighs. “Oh hell, I might as well just say it.”
I take a step back, drying my eyes on my sleeve. “Might as well say what?”
“I saw Saul back at the OC. Or at least I think it was him. I didn’t get a close look, obviously, and it could also be the Saul from our current timeline, not the . . . um . . . original. Or maybe even the one playing for the other team. I should have told you earlier, but I was worried that you’d want to go back and check, and right that minute, we really needed to get out of there. We can go now, though. I set a stable point in Sutter’s office.”
A laugh rises up through the tears. I managed to resist temptation, and here Richard is, putting it right back in my path again. “I saw him, too, Rich. If it was Saul, it pretty much has to be either the version from this timeline or his alt-reality doppelgänger. For now, we have to focus on fixing the timeline, and chasing down someone who simply can’t be my Saul isn’t the best use of our time. But thank you.” I tiptoe up and place a kiss on his cheek. “You’re a good friend.”
When I pull back, I realize he’s blushing, and I’m reminded once again of Saul’s jokes about how he needs to watch his back around Richard, that Rich would off him in a heartbeat if he thought it would give him a chance with me. Now I wonder if maybe Saul isn’t right on that count. Well, not in thinking that Rich would kill him. That’s just silly. But I think he’s right that Richard’s feelings go beyond friendship.
Hell, who am I kidding? I’ve suspected that for a long time. I just didn’t want to admit it, because it makes things awkward.
I tell Rich that I’ll see him back in the library shortly and head to my room. The stack of linens is on the bed where I placed it earlier. I push it aside, toss my hat on the nightstand, and sprawl out on the bed.
If Saul had never become my research partner, would my attraction to him have remained a schoolgirl crush? I’ll never know, but I think it’s possible. And if the girl in that 18th-century Quaker village had died as she was supposed to on our first trip, Saul and I might never have bonded. And maybe then I’d have realized before now that my best friend since age ten is quite good looking these days, with wide gray eyes behind his glasses. They’re the same gray as the ones that looked back from the image in Sutter’s office, although those eyes didn’t have the same warmth.
While it’s not the kind of thing that should be running through my head mere hours after learning that Saul and CHRONOS no longer exist, it is just a passing thought. There’s no reason I should feel at all guilty for having it. But I still kind of do.
FROM THE TD OFF-WORLD PLAYER’S GUIDE
DEFENSIVE GAME (MODIFIED FOR OFF-WORLD TEAM PLAY)
Once team one (Viper) has entered its moves, it may not enter the timeline again until team two (Hyena) has responded.
Team members may not actively engage during play, nor may physical force be used against an opposing player to prevent them from making a move. (This is waived if the opposing team has substantially breached the rules.)
All participants may be recorded anytime they are within range of an observation point or an official observer from the opposite team. These recordings will be broadcast to viewers of TD Off-World. This is a requirement of our sponsors, and there are no exceptions to this rule.
All four players and all observers must be within a ten-meter radius of the SimMaster when play begins. Any individual with the CHRO-NOS gene (permanent, inherited, or temporary) who is within range of the SimMaster when play begins will be counted as an observer and subject to the rules of play.
Initial predictions: Enter the location, the date within one week, and the precise
action for full points.
Final entry: Include the location, exact date, and precise action taken, along with any style-point considerations. Must be entered within one hour of move being taken.
The system can only measure the moves that are entered based on the information given by each team. Team Viper is not responsible for unintended alterations to the timeline that occur due to incidental encounters by its team members or observers.
∞13∞
MADI
SENECA FALLS, NEW YORK
JULY 6, 1935
The stable point is hidden at the back of what used to be the Seneca Falls Wesleyan Church, a plain, boxy building a few blocks from the canal and Van Cleef Lake. When I first pull it up on the key, rain is coming down in steady sheets. The only thing in my house is an airbrella, which they definitely didn’t have in the pre-WWII era, so there really isn’t much I can do other than scroll forward to a moment when the downpour slacks off a tiny bit and blink in.
When I round the corner of the building, I’m surprised to see that the building is no longer a church in 1935. Its red bricks have been painted over, and a large sign reading Ford Garage hangs above the door. Above me, the sky is a solid blanket of dark gray. On the plus side, it’s the middle of summer, so the rain is just wet, not cold. But it will be hard enough to make my case to Kate Dunne without looking like a drowned rat when I introduce myself. I duck into a small market on Fall Street and purchase an umbrella, then begin the short walk to Trinity Church.
No one is on the church grounds when I arrive. I find a dry spot in an alcove near the front of the building, set a local stable point, and start scanning forward. People begin arriving around three, some on foot and others by car. I scan forward to a few minutes after four, pan around to make sure the coast is clear, and jump in.
