Read A Long Time Until Now Online
Authors: Michael Z Williamson
Tags: #fiction, #science fiction, #time travel, #General, #Action & Adventure
A Long Time Until Now (72 page)
“Well, what can we answer for you?” he prompted.
“We desire, and need, information about yourselves. This will aid in returning you properly to your time.”
“What specifically?”
“We would like to start with your full identities, including names, any culturally relevant identification codes, your dates of . . . birth, and family histories.”
That was a lot of information. He didn’t like it.
“That’s more than we are comfortable sharing.”
Spencer said, “Yeah, I’d rather not. If you’ve read our speculative fiction, you know information like that can determine how important it is to keep someone alive. We’d prefer to assume we’re all essential.”
Twine said, “I understand. Our culture is different from yours in terms of what is considered private. Much from your era is archived, but there are of course gaps.”
Should they continue to consider themselves POWs? He swapped glances with Spencer, and wondered about a conference to discuss it. But he had to make the call, and he assumed anything they muttered or wrote would be noted anyway.
“Is giving this information a condition of our return?” he asked.
Twine shook her head.
“I don’t want to phrase it like that. You are under no compulsion to offer anything, and may stay as long as you wish. We will attempt to return you home if you wish, and encourage it. The more information we have, the easier that will be. Certain human elements of the discussion would like background information toward that. We are strictly researchers, we don’t set policy but can advise.”
If he was drawing the lines, the scientists were fine with it, and the military wanted to make sure they weren’t ancestors to any assassins. Or perhaps that they were, so as not to disrupt things.
He looked around.
“Soldiers, I can’t order you to reveal personal information. I think it might be best to offer what you can.”
He turned back to Lar, who was closest. “Is our return all at once? Or can some choose to travel later?”
She leaned forward on the couch. Her feathered brow wrinkled as she said, “We don’t know. It would be best to send you all at once. Additional trips may not be possible for technical or policy reasons.”
“Thanks.” If anyone wanted to remain, he’d have to remain with them and send Spencer as NCOIC. He couldn’t, as commander, leave anyone behind.
He wanted to discuss it in private, but it seemed impossible they wouldn’t spy on anything he said. He would, if he were them.
He looked around and reiterated, “So, we’re displaced, not POWs. I don’t have any evidence these people are hostile. They’re not signed allies. They seem to fit a neutral status. I’ll share information if it will help. Please consult me if you’re unsure.”
The Cogi were obviously paying attention and studying the exchange between commander and troops, status being of note between all parties.
Lar said, “If you prefer, we can speak to you individually as well.”
He asked, “Are you able to speak to us privately while we remain within view of each other?” It was a psychological matter. “We’re displaced . . .”
He stopped talking. They were displaced, scared, cut off from their own people. They’d had only each other for two years. He had a serious phobia about not being in close proximity to them at a time like this.
Ed said, “Certainly we can do this thing.”
“Then I’ll go first. What shall we talk about?”
Suddenly he couldn’t hear anything from the others. No movement, no mutters. He looked over and Spencer gave him a thumbs up. So there was an audio privacy screen, but they were still in proximity.
“Everything is of interest,” Lex Twine said. “Your experiences in the past, back home, your interactions. We can analyze everything later. First, we want to know how you feel.”
So he talked. He summarized his training, education, career. He spoke of his parents and brother, and Lacy, and would he see her again? They’d been dating three months when he deployed. How would all this affect his personality and what about the deployment itself?
It felt like a debrief and a psychoanalysis at the same time.
Lar was genial, and her very neutral form made her easy to talk to. She didn’t appear to judge anything, nor to write nor record, though he was sure she was recording. He asked.
“The system will remember, and my memory is what you would call photogramic.”
“Photographic.”
“Thank you, I will remember that word. I would like to ask some other questions.”
“Okay.”
“This will be a collective inquiry. I’m going to have some pineapple juice. Would you like something?”
“That sounds good, thank you.” The pineapple here was sweeter, tangier, but less acidic. He wondered how far agriculture had come. He wondered what year it was. Given human development, it might be a hundred years from their time, or a thousand.
He sipped juice, and felt the ongoing conflict of being physically very comfortable and emotionally wired. After the permanent bivouac of the Stone Age, this place was a sybaritic paradise. But he wanted to go home.
Lar said, “We need to talk about major events in your timeframe, to help narrow down our window. We don’t want to discuss anything traumatic, but more detail helps.”
“Are you familiar with the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center in New York City, September Eleventh, two thousand and one?”
She said, “Searching. May we show an image?”
“Yes.”
In the air appeared a video of the plane smashing into Tower 2.
“That’s it.”
“Interesting. We are aware of that event.”
“It was that significant?”
“We understand it was for you. Our condolences for the loss of your people.”
He wondered again about their accents, and what time it was. “You sound American, but there’s obviously some enhancement to your voice. Which nation are you now?”
She almost shook her head. “That distinction isn’t germane. We associate ourselves differently from geography.”
“Is English your primary language?”
Lar said, “Yes, but as you are aware, it has softened over time. How far after that date do you place yourself?”
“Eleven years, assuming the earth’s revolution hasn’t been changed.”
Ed said, “That’s an astute inquiry. I can inform you that it has not.”
Lar said, “We will look for other major events. Our timeline may have errors. It is a paradox that the more information we have, the harder certain details are to confirm.”
He suspected they were fishing, but they might be telling the truth. Certainly too many eyewitnesses complicated things.
“The geographic area we were in we called Afghanistan.”
“Yes, we have a map of it at that time.”
The image floated in the air, and he reached out tentatively.
“Right about there, if you can zoom.” He spread his fingers, and it did zoom, just like a phone. He brought it in until he found about where the base was.
“We built military facilities in increasing number in that timeframe.”
“Is this closer?” The image updated.
“Closer, but not there yet.”
“This?” It rippled again.
“Just about. So we disappeared . . .” he zoomed in twice more. “Right there.”
“We have the date, but need further imagery or events to localize it. You say this layout of that military field facility is appropriate?”
“It’s probably a bit earlier than we were. There was an American national election. A flood on the American east coast. If you go a couple of years earlier, there was a large earthquake in Japan.”
Lar said, “We have the earthquake. That was significant.”
Ed looked at something in his hand and said, “And now we have the smaller events.”
“Is dating them a problem?”
Lar said, “Dating them numerically is not a problem. Placing them against the temporal background we have available is largely hypothetical. You have probably deduced this is a new, little-tested field.”
He noticed the two of them were talking while Twine watched. Was she senior and they research fellows? Or did she represent an intel source?
“Will it get better with practice?” he asked.
Lar said, “Theoretically, but given the fallout incidents with this use, we may have to discontinue until more advanced capabilities exist.”
“But you can send us home?” he asked urgently. Please . . .
Ed said, “Physically we can. The advisability and safety are being reviewed. We have input, but no conclusive authority over that. Morally, we should send you home. What repercussions it may have for others is a counter question.”
“I understand.”
They weren’t home yet. Though this prison would be much more comfortable, if it must be.
CHAPTER 45
Dan Oglesby was playing Halo when he heard his name.
“Yes?” he replied.
“This is Researcher Twine. I am informed you have knowledge of the Neolith language.”
That sounded much more interesting. He put the controller down.
He spoke to the overhead, “I was able to compile a basic lexicon and grammar, and a workable pidgin.”
“Would you be willing to assist us in communicating with them?”
“If you need me to, sure.”
She said, “We could engineer the translations ourselves, but if you have them already there is no need to duplicate the effort.”
“I’ll be glad to help.” It was nice to be needed professionally, and it would help with the boredom. He’d forgotten how to play, the controller was different, and he really didn’t care about it anymore.
Her voice said, “The attendant will guide you to our location.”
“This way,” said House’s voice. A line lit on the floor, and he walked along it.
The route was surprisingly direct, out a doorway that was almost ethereal, right, down a corridor that was decorated with more optical art, and right again through a door. There was some kind of frame for the door, but it wasn’t obvious, and they had a hologram or something hiding it. He just followed the line through and it wasn’t there.
The Gadorth had been equipped with hide and limb shelters, though obviously for comfort, not necessity. They were all gathered around their eating table, which appeared to be slabs of wood, and there was a fire on a rock hearth near the far wall.
“Heyla, Muta,” he greeted the nearest one he recognized.
“Heyla, Dan! Woosi gahn nit la.”
Welcome at our new home
.
“Tat woosa, Muta.”
Thank you I am welcome
. It was also “feel welcome” and “for welcoming me.” Their grammar and syntax was flexible, with context mattering for most statements.
Lex Twine, he was embarrassed he couldn’t remember her full name, was there with two other subordinates. She wore what was almost a casual pantsuit without a collar, in vivid blue with a black skin-hugging shirt. The others wore T-shirts, as near as he could tell, and pants that were even more covered in pockets than ACUs. One each female and male, tall, blond, beautiful.
Twine said, “Thank you, Specialist Oglesby. Or do you prefer Dan?”
“Either is fine, I guess. I enjoy being informal, but it’s nice to be recognized, too.” And damn, she was hot. He tried not to stare at her boobs, just below his eye level. Everyone here so far was perfectly formed and fed. They varied from elfin to curvy, but all the women were smoking. He wasn’t sure about the androgynous ones. Those were a bit creepy.
He didn’t know what discussions had gone on, but the Gadorth seemed to know the scientists were off limits. They didn’t approach Twine or the others. They didn’t seem to know about House, either.
He noticed one Cogi man near the back, who seemed to occasionally point at things for them. So they had a live host. That made sense. He gathered a voice from the sky would terrify them.
Twine asked, “Can you preface translations in English so we can build our own lexicon?”
“Of course. I also have written notes if those are of use.”
“Please! Where are they?” Alexian. That was her name.
“They’ll be in my bags in our vehicle.”
“Can you extend permission for us to retrieve them?”
“Sure. You know which bags are which?”
“If not, a DNA sniffer will easily tell.”
“Ah, right. Just bring my laptop to me and I’ll take it from there. Do you have one-hundred-ten-volt electrical power?”
“We can provide any current needed, but we can also read the data remotely. If you consent, I promise all other data will remain unseen by people. An automatic system will scan for your notes.”
“Oh, sure, if you can do that.” He wasn’t really sure about that, but it wasn’t as if he could stop them, and other than his porn there really wasn’t much private content.
The Gadorth seemed to be engaged in a scientific study of foodstuffs, trying a bite each of everything offered and discussing it boisterously.
Twine said, “We’re trying to localize them as we localized you, but it may not be feasible.”
“I know Sergeant Spencer said Doggerland. It was turning swampy and marshy but was not yet inundated. He figured they were about six thousand BC, by our counting.”
Twine flipped her eyebrows, grabbed a phone, and rapidfired almost-English into it.
“Twine doc tempi third point corel Romn, ‘Mehrgan backcalc split time source.”
Someone said, “Yeah. Rici!”
Turning to him, she said, “We should be able to work out the time. Location is harder.”
“How critical is it?”
Her gorgeous grin stabbed him. “Now you ask too many curious questions, Dan. Shall we talk to your friends?”
“Certainly.” He turned and called, “Muta, ku sif ta.”
Muta came over and clutched his shoulders again, and started introducing everyone by name and background. They didn’t quite use chosen cognomens, nor patronymics, but almost clan references except they combined past and present into a compound word. It had taken a while to figure that one out. He explained that to Twine.
“I understand,” she said. “We’re picking up a lot from your interactions. Keep going.”
He was there all morning, and it was fascinating to see their combination of primitive and ultramodern. Their latrine had squat holes and a cascade of water like a waterfall that was lukewarm. The food service was the same. Their huts were notional covers with bedding that was obviously supported by the same tech as the reclining seat-beds the Americans had, but disguised as quilted hide. It was a Potemkin Village illusion for comfort.
Seeing that, he wondered what the future really looked like, how much wasn’t being shown them even in their own quarters. Still, he was able to sprawl when sleeping now, rather than being confined to a bag width. The beds here would open as wide as you wanted.
“How are the Romans and the Indians doing, Ms. Twine?”
“The Romans are fascinating. They are well-bonded as a unit, and are much less . . . reserved . . . than your people. They are consuming much, and while self-policing, need a lot of support. The Indians are obsequiously grateful and seem exhausted. They are resting and uninterested in much other than talking amongst themselves and a table game variant to chess.”
“The Romans were using them as indentured labor.”
“So we deduced. Captain Elliott has given us some summary of the interactions. You are all to be lauded on your efforts to act as intermediaries and avoid conflict.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Yeah, they had tried.
“Your data and translation is most helpful. I don’t know how closely we can return them, but it should be within a few decades and kilometers. Unfortunately, that is the best accuracy we are likely to get. We may be able to narrow it down.”
“Decades? Is that as close as we’ll get?” That was a disturbing thought. Though if they arrived in the 1950s, they could be rich choosing stocks.
She smiled and placed a hand gently on his arm. “We can be more accurate in your case, since we have specific time ticks to work with. They lack a calendar, maps, or significant records.”
“I see.” That was reassuring.
“Please keep in mind that is not my field, and I can only give you an overview. I have no decision-making authority on that.”
So it wasn’t definite they were going home.
“Well, this place isn’t home, but it’s more comfortable than a bug-filled cabin in proto-A-stan. I am grateful.” A fuck of a lot more comfortable.
“Thank you. I will relay that. You can return now.” She smiled again.
“Are you visiting later?” he asked hopefully.
“I am. Should I dress down?”
“Uh . . .” It sounded as if she were offering . . .
She said, “All the men in your element seem to appreciate my appearance. I’m flattered. If you’d like to see my natural self, I don’t mind, if it won’t make you uncomfortable.”
Whew.
They were going to hate him, but after his previous interactions with natives, he said, “If you’re asking me, why don’t you dress up a bit, and use your natural appearance to display the outfit?”
“I’ll consider it,” she said. “There’s your light.”
He looked down. Yes, so it was.
“Have a good day, Ms. Twine,” he said.
“And you, Specialist Oglesby.”
He was glad she chose to be formal. Whew. Brains, beauty, and that voice. Amazing.
He needed a drink.
Armand wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the white troops. There was no one here with any melanin at all. Well, that wasn’t true. Some were tanned bronze or olive or even darker, almost black, some were sheened in green or blue. He suspected a lot of that was done with chemicals. A couple had faint Asian casts to them, Korean or Japanese in ancestry. There was no one the slightest bit African in features, though.
It didn’t make sense for people to have split themselves up by race so thoroughly. Racial mixing was well underway in the twenty-first century, with air travel as common as it was. For it to not only stop, but regress, suggested some serious disaster.
He and Trinidad were away from the others. He wanted to think and didn’t want TV.
“Felix, what do you think of the genetics here?”
“Red hot Swedish babes, all of them,” he said. “I wonder where everyone else is?”
“Yeah, exactly that.”
“They seem to have separated genetics, culture, appearance. Which I guess to mean there was a massive war and the Euros won. Or some kind of economic collapse, except that wouldn’t explain clarifying gene lines.”
“Yeah. It’s like some Nazi master race bullshit.”
It would take a long time, too. You didn’t wipe out entire gene lines instantly. There were always half breeds and diluted ethnicities.
“They treat us all the same that I can tell.”
“They do. But they won’t explain how this happened, and it’s important.”
Felix said, “I see other races, but not Africans. There are several with Asian ancestry of different types, including South, East and Chinese. I don’t see Filipinos or Malays. There are obvious Hispanics and what look like Siberians. The rest is or entirely are Caucasian. So I’m thinking we’re in Asia somewhere, which makes sense. It’s likely in A-stan.”
He said, “With the Euros in charge, and no Africans.”
Felix nodded. “It looks that way, and I understand your distress.”
He hesitated, and asked, “Attendant, I have a technical question.”
“If it concerns genotypes I cannot give you an answer.”
“Are you unable or not allowed to?”
“The parameters do not permit of an answer.”
Was that to the first or second question?
Felix said, “Want me to ask for you?”
Was there a discreet way to do that? Hell, Felix was intel. And he’d already asked openly, once.
“Sure, if you can.”
Just then, Spencer called.
“Listen up! PT time. We’re going to do calisthenic warm-ups and run around inside our oversized yurt, here.”
That might help. He fell into formation.
“We’ll start with pushups.”
Dalton replied, “The pushup!”
“Funny. I’m informal here, but let’s do it. Two minutes on the clock . . . now.”
A half hour and two miles later, with situps and leg lifts as well, he was sweaty, endorphin high and flushed.
The attendant said, “Larilee Zep is approaching.”
They turned as she came through the doorway.
“Good day,” she said.
“Good day, ma’am,” Felix said. “Why is it we see several racial influences among the staff here, but no Africans?”
Well, that was direct.
“That’s a complicated question,” she replied, and he was sure she was trying to cover something. “Some of it has to do with genetic diseases, and I can’t share more than that. There is no direct animosity or intent to exclude anyone. In fact, most people have very mixed lineage at this point. There is almost no one with what you would consider pure genetic lines, which were questionable even in your era.”
“Thanks. What is your makeup, if we can ask?”
“I am . . . part construct. Fully human, but with selected traits.”