Lost in Time(99)
“Sure. Well, how small?”
“Say the size of a driver’s license?”
“Oh yeah. That’s no problem. Do you have a file?”
“I was wondering if you could show me how to do it. It’s for a personal project.”
He shrugged. “Of course.”
“And I know this might sound a little crazy, but I need an ink that washes off in water.”
“Believe me, we’ve seen crazier. I don’t have any of the disappearing ink right now, but I can order it. We’ve used it before.”
He must have read Adeline’s surprise. “Some guys down in IT wanted some a few years ago. For an April Fool’s prank, I think.” Roger smiled. “Planning something similar?”
“This is no prank. I guess you could say it’s for a birthday party.”
*
A week later, Adeline was placing the ID under the printer. She reviewed the layout of the Absolom Sciences intern badge, clicked print, and watched as the California driver’s license for Daniele Danneros was covered in the disappearing ink.
As she watched the present cover the past—and future—she couldn’t help but wonder about the nature of time itself, and causality, and specifically where the driver’s license had come from in the first place. She could ask the same question about the diamond earrings that would also travel to the past with her younger counterpart. The license and the earrings were like the universe itself: its past before it existed was a mystery. When and how had the two items been created? What form had they existed in before they came into the universe? In that answer was the true nature of time, and it was stranger than Adeline had ever imagined as a child.
SIXTY-SEVEN
Adeline put all of her efforts into preparing for the future. Her years of work on Absolom Island were coming to fruition. The roads were done. The automated bungalows and offices and facilities were ready. Yet, aside from the construction company staff, it stood empty, waiting for the moment when it was needed.
Adeline spent as much time as she could visiting her father, drilling him on survival techniques.
His own island loomed in the past. Pangea. There would be no automated paradise waiting for him there.
She watched the bitterness and suspicion grow inside her younger self.
Elliott and Hiro worked day and night on testing Absolom Two, ensuring it was safe for her father. It was hard to think either one of them had killed Nora and framed her father, given the effort they were seemingly putting into making it possible to bring him back.
That’s what bothered Adeline the most: in the puzzle that was her life, the pieces didn’t quite fit.
A text lit up her phone. It was from the CEO of Syntran, again requesting a meeting. She apparently had ignored the email autoresponder. Adeline had to respect her persistence. She sent a message back telling her to proceed with whatever she thought best for the company. Adeline had bigger issues at the moment.
*
Hiro managed to update the Absolom machine two days before Sam departed.
When Adeline had asked Elliott how sure he was that it would work—that Absolom Two would indeed deliver Sam alive, and in one piece, to the Triassic, the older scientist had simply shrugged. “Pretty sure.”
“Pretty sure?”
“Look, it worked for the mice we tested it on.”
“How do you know?”
“The mice fossils we recovered indicate that they were alive at the time of arrival.”
That didn’t make Adeline feel much better, but there was nothing she could do about it. Time and life had taught her one thing: you do all you can, and at some point, it’s either enough or it’s not. The tides of a life and your efforts either carry you in. Or sink you.
*
Adeline barely slept the night before her father’s departure. She had lived it once, and she had never truly gotten over seeing him disappear in that box.
But she knew she had to watch it one last time.
As she stood in the viewing booth, waiting for the glass to change from black to transparent, she reflected that time had another magical quality: steeling the soul. She looked down at her younger self, in the row in front of her, knowing a wave of agony was about to hit her.
Adeline knew that she herself could tolerate seeing her father ripped out of the universe. That was the advantage of time. It conditioned the heart to the worst assaults. Or maybe it was natural to feel less as one grew older. Maybe a mind could develop scar tissue too. Emotional scar tissue. Adeline had her share.
The glass turned transparent, revealing the Absolom machine in the center of the room.
Her father was lying on the floor, wearing the thick white departure ensemble.
He pushed up and glanced around at the machine, seeming surprised, then through the glass door, up to the viewing booth.
His eyes met his daughter’s stare, and Adeline remembered exactly how that felt—as if a hot poker had been run through her.
She watched her counterpart break then. She stood, practically jumped to the glass window, and slammed her fist into it. A gong sound echoed through the room, loud and borderline disorienting, as if the waves were rattling Adeline’s brain.
Adeline remembered the pain from that blow, remembered ignoring it as she pounded the glass. The scream that accompanied the beating was even worse, the word “Dad!” drawn out like a battle cry.