The next afternoon, Anna swung gently in a hammock stretched between two beech trees in the backyard. She lay with her notebook open on her stomach, her eyes half-closed and her hands propped behind her head. The temperatures had crept up to the high nineties. But the air was a good ten degrees cooler in the shade, and gently swaying back and forth in the hammock created enough of a breeze to keep her comfortable.
From a distance, Anna could hear the thrum of a motorcycle engine coming closer, followed by the high-pitched whine of a downshift, then quiet. A moment later, Mara’s voice came over her iCom.
“Where are you?”
“Come around to the back of the house,” Anna said. “You can’t miss me.”
Anna propped herself up in the hammock as Mara walked across the back lawn. The slight movement made the hammock swing in a wide arc.
“What is that thing?” Mara pointed straight ahead.
“You don’t have hammocks in the future?” Anna asked.
“No,” Mara said, shaking her head. “It seems structurally unstable. Is it used for protection from ground animals?”
Anna laughed.
“No, it’s used for being lazy. Come join me.” Anna scooted over and patted the hammock in invitation.
Mara reluctantly stepped forward then paused to assess the proper landing sequence. She raised her left leg up like she was going to straddle the hammock, then set her foot back down. She turned around and tried to lean backward into the hammock, then stopped, frustrated.
“Forget it.”
Mara gave up and decided to use her antigravity boots instead. She floated gently off the ground and landed softly next to Anna’s side. She squirmed in the hammock, trying to get comfortable without knocking them both to the ground. After a minute she was able to find some kind of equilibrium and lay still, looking up at the leaves fluttering above her head.
“Now what?” Mara asked.
“Nothing. We just relax.”
“This is the opposite of relaxing, Anna.”
“Give it time.” Anna smiled as she hung her leg over the side and gently began rocking. “Did you hear about the sighting last night?”
“I did,” Mara said.
“My uncle knows the guy. Some old farmer who lives out just past Potter Road,” Anna said. “Said he woke up to find some shadow creature staring at him through his second-story window. How’s that for freaky?”
“He also said that when he turned on the light, the creature was completely featureless. No face. Just blackness—his words,” Mara said.
“How do you know that?”
“I read the police report this morning,” Mara said. “Just after I analyzed that black feather you found yesterday. I think the old farmer was telling the truth. Whatever you brought me this morning is not of this world. It’s organic. But SID couldn’t find anything remotely like a DNA sequence we know of. And I don’t think it’s a feather either.”
“What is it then?”
“Best that I can tell, it’s some kind of scale that absorbs about 99.98% of all light. It uses small nanotubes on its surface to somehow trap light. That’s the reason the old farmer just saw a black space,” Mara said.
Anna paused.
“Does that mean the creature is invisible at night?”
“Yes. I would think so.”
“Good,” Anna said. “Not for us. I mean for the creature. It’s gotta be lost and scared. After what I saw yesterday, it has every right to be scared. Scout’s brother wants to frame it on his wall.”
“I’m afraid he’s not the only one,” Mara said quietly.
“How do you know?”
Mara tapped her iCom to display a holographic map of the valley in bright blue lines above her wrist. On the lines, little pulses of light glowed bright then faded away like raindrops hitting the surface of a window.
“See this? This is a time delta I had SID create. It tracks all police scans, news events, any kind of digital communication for this entire area.”
Anna traced her finger along the blue lines then stopped at one of the small pulsing lights.
“Oh. So that’s how you know. You track people’s conversations?” Anna said. “That’s a little creepy, Mara.”
“Not all conversations. Just the conversations that have changed,” Mara said.
“Changed? What do you mean?”
“See those little glowing dots? Each one represents a change to your timeline. Events, messages, conversations that would never have happened if I hadn’t appeared in your time. Changes that cause new actions and reactions, rippling out like waves in a pond. The changes could mean nothing to your future—or everything. I don’t know.”
“So these are people, right?” Anna pointed to another dot that pulsed bright on the map then slowly faded away.
“In a way. Yes. They’re more like communication records. But I suppose you can see them as people,” Mara said. “Before I came to your time, I collected a digital record of all communications originating from this area. Well, from many areas. Each record points to a person, a place, like a digital footprint. I asked SID to create a scan that flags any changes to these records. Make sense?”
Anna felt her world shift. She knew Mara had an understanding of the future, but not at this level of detail or at this scale. Police reports, electronic communications, private conversations.
“That means you know everyone’s future, then. Uncle Jack’s. Mine. I mean, that’s the only way this delta scan of yours could work, right?” Anna said as she propped herself up on both elbows. “Of course you know. I can’t believe this. Why didn’t I think of this before?”
“I’m sorry. I should have been more careful in explaining this. The delta scan knows traces of your future. The digital records. Not your total future,” Mara explained. “But listen, Anna. I’ve chosen not to look at these records more than I need to. Especially yours. The more I know, the greater the chance of changing your timeline.”
“So you know what college I go to. Every text message I’ve ever sent. My first boyfriend. Everything,” Anna said.
“I could find out, but like I said, I’ve chosen not to. So don’t bother asking,” Mara said. “The less I know—”
“I know, I know. The less of a chance you have to screw up my timeline.”
“I used to think that there was an inertia, an almost physical force that kept things moving forward in time to where they were supposed to go. Time may meander a bit, but things always end up at the same destination,” Mara said. She stared at the leaves moving in the afternoon breeze overhead. “But that’s not how it worked out for me. My destination didn’t just end when my parents failed to meet. It never existed. I just don’t want the same thing happening to you.”
Anna lay back with her head next to Mara’s.
“Mara. I—I don’t think you’re looking at this right.” Anna struggled to find the words.
“At what right?”
“Well, maybe all of it. I’ve been thinking about the whole timeline thing since you mentioned it the other night. And it’s really been bugging me, and I didn’t know why. But I think I’m beginning to figure it out,” Anna said.
“And?”
“I don’t think it really matters if my timeline changes. Not to me. As far as I’m concerned, this is all just happening for the first time. Meeting you. Learning to fly. No broken timelines. No lost futures. Just the one I have now.” Anna smiled as she shook her head. “If you think about it, Mara, it doesn’t matter to you either. It’s all new every day.”
“You can’t be serious.” Mara frowned.
“I know you lost your parents because of changes to your timeline. I’m not making light of that. Trust me, of all people, I know,” Anna said. “But instead of looking back and trying to keep everything the same, maybe you should be looking forward. Maybe you should be thinking about how to make the best of the future you have. From right now. With me.”
Tears lined the bottom of Mara’s eyes. She looked up and blinked and took in a deep breath.
“The past is not to be messed with,” Mara said.
“I know.”
“Changes only mean one thing: a series of branching alternatives, each one leading to me being alone, without a home. Or, even worse…” her voice trailed off.
“But you’re here now.”
Mara’s eyes softened and a faint smile crossed her lips.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“Of course, I’m right. So now that you have one, what are you going to do with all this future?” Anna asked.
Mara laughed at the absurdity of the idea—a future.
“First things first,” Mara said. “Let’s start by finding the creature before anyone else does.”
“Yes,” Anna said, nodding. “And then we help it find its way home, right?”
“If only it were that easy. Even with the data you found the other night, we’re no closer to finding the wormhole. So we have no idea where this creature came from. Throw in that the creature is effectively invisible at night and doesn’t appear to travel by day.” Mara let her voice fall. “No, not easy.”
“So what’s the plan?” Anna asked.
“I was hoping you’d have one.” Mara smiled.
“No. Serious.”
“I guess you and I are going to continue to go out at night and search for a needle in a haystack. Not much of a plan, but it’s all I have,” Mara sighed. “Well, that and I also set up the delta scan to immediately alert us if it picks up anything on the creature. So we’ll need to be ready and fast—and probably very lucky.”
“Any idea how we capture the poor thing without harming it?” Anna asked.
“I’m working on an exopolymer net. It’s the size of a small ball but it expands fast when it nears its target. The net will immobilize the creature but also keep it safe. We just need to get close enough.”
“Exopolymer?”
“Think of it as a biodegradable ball of goo,” Mara explained.
“Oh,” Anna said. “Do I get the delta alert, too?”
“Of course. I’m not doing any of this alone anymore.”
“I’m glad you included me. Makes me feel like a superhero, like we’re using the Bat Signal or something,” Anna said as she leaned against Mara’s arm.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mara laughed, wrapping her arm around Anna.
Even in the heat, Mara’s shirt felt cool. Future-girl fabric. The two sat rocking for a minute, silent except for the slight breeze that flowed through the leaves like a hush above their heads. Anna could hear Mara’s heartbeat, slow and strong, almost keeping time with the sway of the hammock.
“You’re right. This is nice,” Mara said.
Anna smiled to herself.
“You know. This is the first time someone has held me since my parents died.”
Mara instinctively drew Anna closer. It surprised her.
“You know I used to prefer working alone, isolated in research, instead of having to interact with other people?” Mara said softly.
“Yeah,” Anna giggled. “You kind of give off that vibe.”
“But something happened when I was out there, lost in time. It was more than loneliness. The longer I was gone, the more I felt like I was fading away. My memories. My sense of place. Fading to nothing. But being here with you makes me feel more real than I’ve felt in a very long time.”
“Me too.”
“So, speaking of futures. What do you plan on doing with yours?” Mara asked.
“Easy. I want to go to space,” Anna said without hesitation. “Oh, and save the world.”
“Of course you do. Any specific order?”
Anna giggled and shook her head.
From around the corner of the house, Uncle Jack made sure to make enough noise to get their attention. He turned the corner carrying a large tin container. Near the top of the tin can was a frost line and beads of condensation that dripped down the sides. Two spoons stuck out the top.
“Hey! I hope I’m not interrupting,” Uncle Jack said as he walked to the edge of the beech tree. He took turns holding the tin container with one hand then the other, shaking his free hand from the cold. “You guys look cozy.”
“We are,” Anna said. “Whatcha got there?”
“Oh yeah. I forgot. I don’t know if you know. Well, how would you know,” Uncle Jack stumbled. “What I mean is that our farm hosts a series of exhibits at the county fair every year. That’s just a couple of weeks from now. People from all over the world come to see our work on regenerative farming.”
“And . . .”
“Oh yeah. In addition to all the learning exhibits and the innovation competition we run, we also prepare different foods from our sustainable crops. This here is strawberry ice cream that Faye made. It’s from an old French recipe and uses a varietal called a Mignonette. I’m sure I mutilated the pronunciation.” Uncle Jack grinned. “They’re resistant to fungi.”
“Fungi resistant? Sounds delicious,” Mara teased.
“Want to try some?” Uncle Jack asked, holding the tin can out in front of him. “I brought you both a spoon.”
Mara and Anna both swung their legs over the side of the hammock then leaned in to get a better look. A mound of light pink ice cream with big red chunks filled the tin can.
“I’ve never had a strawberry,” Mara said without thinking.
Uncle Jack looked confused.
“You’re never had a strawberry? Seriously?”
“I mean the variety you mentioned, the Mignonette,” Mara said, trying to recover.
“Oh yeah. Here in the States, most strawberries look like golf balls. Taste a little like them too. The problem is we breed them that way.” Uncle Jack shook his right hand from the cold. “You guys might want to try some before my hand freezes.”
Anna fished her spoon around until she was able to snag one of the larger strawberry chunks and then shoved the entire too-big bite into her mouth. The sides of her cheeks spread out as she began fanning her open mouth.
“Coooo—” She laughed as she tried to say “cold,” but the roof of her mouth was frozen.
Mara took her turn next and cautiously dug out half a spoonful with just a sliver of strawberry. This would be the first food she had eaten in this time—at least food that wasn’t prepared by her food replicator. She tried to think back to a time she ate something that had grown directly in soil or been prepared by human hands. She couldn’t. Her entire life, from infancy to adulthood, all her food had been prepared to order by a replicator. No waste. Efficient. Fast. How would her body respond? Was her microbiome capable of processing this type of food in this way?
She slowly placed the tip of the spoon in her mouth and immediately felt the back of her mouth water as the combination of cream and strawberry washed over her tongue and triggered emotions from a distant evolutionary past. She didn’t move or make a noise. She just closed her eyes and let the ice cream melt slowly in her mouth. A combination of fat, fruit sugar, and a tiny hint of salt. Never in her life had she tasted anything like this. So many different flavors and textures at once. Sweet and tart and cold. Words failed her. So, this is what a strawberry tastes like. She finally opened her eyes, only to see Uncle Jack staring at her with a concerned look.
“Brain freeze?”
Mara didn’t answer but shoved her spoon back in the tin container, this time with no hesitation. She searched for a larger chunk of strawberry, hit the jackpot, then shoved it in her mouth. She let the frozen strawberry melt on her tongue. She noticed her eyes watering but didn’t try hiding it.
“I take it you like it.” Uncle Jack smiled. “You know, we didn’t have to add much sugar because there is so much naturally occurring in—”
“Shhhhhh.” Mara held up her hand.
Her focus was solely on the mound of ice cream in front of her. She took another spoonful, then another. Silent. The rest of the world had disappeared. After a moment she began to slow down, her stomach already feeling the first signs of being full. She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and looked up. Uncle Jack had a quizzical look caught between amused and impressed. Anna was just laughing.
“Well, I guess I know what to get you for your birthday,” Anna said.
Mara looked up, a little embarrassed.
“That. Was. Amazing,” she said.
“I’ll be sure to tell Faye. She’ll like that,” Uncle Jack said. “Consider this an official invitation to the county fair. I hope you can find some time to make it.”
“I’m sure I will.”
“Okay then.” Uncle Jack nodded for a moment, and then, unsure what to do next, he turned to leave. He took one step toward the fence then stopped to look back. “Listen. I, uh, was wondering since you’re new around here and all, would you like to have dinner with me?”
“You mean now? Here? That’s not necessary. The ice cream was more than sufficient,” Mara said with a straight face.
Uncle Jack laughed nervously. “No. Sorry. I meant to ask if you’d like dinner with me. Here at the house. Maybe this Friday around 6:30?”
Anna swiveled her head back and forth—from Mara to Uncle Jack then back to Mara—and felt as if she were watching two separate conversations with separate meanings and levels of understanding. Uncle Jack was smitten. That was obvious. Mara, on the other hand—the smartest person she had ever met, a genius—was completely oblivious to the subtext of the moment. This was going to be fun, Anna thought.
“Will you provide more food like this?” Mara pointed to the melting ice cream.
“I’ll try,” Uncle Jack said. He had forgotten about the cold freeze on his hands.
“Then yes.” Mara looked him straight in the eye and smiled.
“Great. I guess it’s a date then,” Uncle Jack said. He took one step back, then another, ready to bolt before Mara changed her mind. “Well, I’ll let you two get back to your studies.”
“Just leave that here before you go.” Mara pointed to the ice cream.
Uncle Jack handed over the tin container and wiped his hands on his pants. He nodded, then jogged toward the front fence where Dr. Gloria stood waiting.
Mara dug her spoon around for a missing chunk of strawberry, then stopped.
“One question, Anna. What is a date?”