6.5  ·  Progress

Alia gazed down into the steaming ripples of her tea as she listened to the din of the San Antonio tavern around her. The layers of voices held a certain comfort. Safety in numbers.

Nonetheless, she also felt alone. With John busy at the Project – where she was understandably unwelcome – she had nobody to trust. So she had to get out of that place. So she went to the only place she knew would have a smattering of strangers.

But, even now, she felt vulnerable. It was this very town where the energy surge had been detected.

Her eyes moved from face to face around her. Nobody was looking at her.

Good.

With trembling hands, she drew the tea cup to her lips and sipped.

“Hey.”

She choked on the tea, as a hand landed on her shoulder from behind. She whipped her head around to see Rembrandt smiling at her.

“Uh, sorry, did I scare you?”

Alia placed down her cup, as she recovered. “Maybe a little. I’m just on edge.”

The singer took a seat across from her at the table, and looked at her with a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah, things just got a bit paranoid, didn’t they?” He bit his lip, reading her nervous expression. “Look, if you came here for some space, I can go.”

He made a move to stand.

“No, it’s alright,” she said. “I’m scared, but I’d also appreciate a little company, I guess.”

She glanced around the bar. “I don’t think much can happen to me with this many people around,” she added.

He settled back into his seat. “Alright. If I make you uncomfortable, just say the word and I’m gone.”

Alia offered him a weak smile. “I appreciate that.”

Rembrandt took a salt shaker from the centre of the table, and started turning it in his hand.

“You think they’re gonna get the Lens fixed up?” he asked, as his hands passed the small glass shaker from one hand to the other.

“That’s what they promised.” She took another sip of her tea.

“Let’s hope so. Kinda hard to be around everyone right now, huh? That’s why I came here, too.” He let out a laugh. “Maybe I been watching too many soap operas. Everything someone does, I look at ’em and think ‘hmm, is that in character?’ But I think I’m just working myself up.”

“I guess you’d know better than me. I don’t know anyone well enough to pick out things of that nature.”

Rembrandt sank his head into his hands, leaving the salt shaker on its side, a few white grains scattered around it.

“What’s the future like?” he asked without warning.

“Huh?” Alia asked as she tried to understand the train of thought that had led him to asking that.

“Just been wanting to ask, ever since our last chat. You’re from 2023, you said. So you must know all kinds of things that are gonna happen.”

“Talk about a change of subject.” Alia couldn’t help but let out a giggle.

But I guess it’ll relax me a little.

“Well, what kind of things do you wanna know?”

He leaned in toward her, whispering. “Been hearing the government is planning some kind of war in Iraq. That true?”

Alia groaned. “You had to start with that? Oh yeah, that happens, and it’ll be just as much of a mess as you might imagine. Based on lies, too.”

Rembrandt winced. “Okay, I’ll try something less heavy… how about music? Disco ever make a comeback?”

Alia screwed up her face as she thought back. “I don’t think so, but I’m not a big music person. I think it skipped from funk revival to eighties revival.”

“Damn shame,” he said, shaking his head. “Had me some good times at the discotheque.”

“After the pandemic of 2020, people did a bit less intermingling on dance floors,” said Alia, and waited for his shocked expression.

“Pandemic? You’re kiddin’ me, right?”

Alia forced a laugh. “Uh. Yeah. Just yanking your chain…”

She didn’t really want to get into all that. In fact, those twenty years had not had a lot of highlights, in retrospect. Recessions, political chaos, hatred, economic inequality. She had to wonder how much of that had been a result of meddling by her fellow leapers.

“Oh, there’s one thing that goes right,” she finally said, after shuffling through her memories. “Same sex marriage becomes legal in a lot of places. Eventually. Though, things get worse in other ways…”

Rembrandt raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like the future ain’t got much to offer, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so. But at least there are smartphones! They’re like whole computers built into your phone, connected wirelessly to the internet. You can talk to… abusive people on the internet… whenever you want.” Alia deflated. “You know what? I’m not looking forward to reliving the next couple decades.”

She leaned back in her chair, considering her predicament. “That’s if I live that long.”

“You really think these guys want to…?” Rembrandt drew a line across his throat.

“Oh, definitely. Well, they’ll probably want to torture me first.” Alia spoke plainly, resigned to the notion.

Rembrandt frowned. “You said they were victims like you. What if they want outta there as much as you did?”

Alia considered this.

I suppose they would never have admitted it to me, not while we were under that sort of scrutiny.

“All of us are… very damaged people. I don’t know how any of the others would react to the offer to escape, to be completely honest.”

Though I have an inkling about Zoey’s reaction.

“And I couldn’t offer that anyway,” she added. “I don’t even know how it happened to me to begin with.”

Rembrandt gazed into the distance, lost in thought. “That’s too bad.”

*          *          *

“Aha! There you are!” Quinn cried, overcome with relief as he peered into the Reality Lens.

The man who had looked like Sam a moment ago, had finally shifted into the form of a younger Quinn, as Colin painstakingly turned a screwdriver micrometre by micrometre, tuning into exactly the right wavelength to nullify the aura.

“Oh, thank god,” Colin breathed, closing up the tiny hatch on the side of the device, and wiping his brow. Quinn held it out to him.

“Give it to John and we can finally put our minds at ease.”

“Got it,” Colin said. “Do you really plan on staying in here with… you?”

Quinn shrugged. “Only as long as he has questions. And I’m pretty sure he has many. Get going.”

“Okay, I’m going.” He strode towards the door, which Ziggy opened as he approached. He left, with the parting words: “Thank you, Ziggy.”

*          *          *

Sam rubbed his eyes, a welcome relief from staring at the ceiling of the cell.

It had been a frustrating hour, with Al being gone, and some attempts at communicating with John that hadn’t been very fruitful. He wasn’t even sure if John remained here at present.

He glanced over at Tim on the other bench, whose head was resting on the wall as he sat, trying to think of a way to escape.

And finally, the sound of the Imaging Chamber door heralded Al’s return.

“Good news, Sam,” he said, emerging through the wall. “The Reality Lens is functional again. John’s off checking everyone as we speak.”

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. This had been quite a fiasco. Of all the things to be discovered after he’d left, he could scarcely think of anything worse.

“Listen, don’t be worrying about all that. We’ll take care of it. You worry about getting outta this cage, alright?”

Sam looked at him expectantly.

Well? How do I do that?

“I’m working on it, okay? Ziggy’s just gotta locate Sherri and we can run some scenarios.”

Okay. I’ll just… be here, then.

Sam turned his attention to the force field. “John? You still here? Which way to Sherri?”

After a moment, the shape of a hand appeared, pointing downward.

“Well, that’s a start. Thanks, buddy.”

“Good thinking,” Al said, giving an approving nod. “I’ll tell Ziggy to start scanning below us, and I’ll just go have a look around myself.”

He pressed a button on the handlink, and began slowly lowering into the floor as if he was on an elevator. He waved, as his image disappeared into the concrete.