Chapter 25

Thursday, June 3, 3109, 12:19 p.m. “Young-Rebecca has the gate set to 3089,” Siri announced.

Preparing herself with a sharp intake of breath, Rebecca flexed her shoulders, opened the door and exited into the passageway, turning left toward The Hall of The Gate. She’d remained concealed in the same room that Young-Rebecca had awoken in this morning, awaiting the moment when her younger self set the gate to 2:29 p.m., Monday, June 3, 3089. She wore the gray tunic and slacks but had substituted leather-soled flats for slippers to make her presence in the passageway known. Young-Rebecca should be gone when she arrived in the hall 30 seconds hence. She was.

With one notable exception, the morning had transpired exactly as she recalled. A misaligned photonic-manipulator had allowed a 120’ tall transmission tower to be seen above the tree line in the distance. A crew dispatched by Holger had partially remedied the problem, but when looked at directly, a section of scaffolding and two transmission lines could be seen. Stepping onto the balcony, Young-Rebecca noted the anomaly right away, drawing it to Rebecca’s attention. An instant later, however, she spotted Frieda and Arma, and all questions ceased. Rebecca hoped the incident would not prove a deal-breaker, somehow.

“Siri, dead-center the gate, all coordinates, please.” Siri confirmed her command, though Rebecca observed no difference in the hovering oval. “Lock all functions pending my verbal release.”

“All functions locked, Rebecca.”

Rebecca sighed. No more pretending now; her younger self had fled 20 years into the past, and Rebecca had just stranded her there. What a goddamned nightmare. It wasn’t nearly over yet, either.

“Revert my suite to normal, please.” The house she’d slept in nearly every night of her long stay in Arcadia lay safely concealed behind a manipulation field. Ever the sensible mother-figure in her life, Gudrun had insisted on Procurement dismantling the structure during Rebecca/Iris’s stay in the palace, but Rebecca had uncharacteristically refused. She couldn’t suffer the loss of her home for even a night; it had preserved her sanity, possibly even her life in the beginning. It now belonged to Arma.

“Do not allow Arma, or anyone else to access the gate while I’m gone, Siri.”

“Affirmed.”

Anxious, she disrobed and donned the black cords and warm flannel shirt that Procurement had provided for her return to 2014. It felt unbelievably good to wear the familiar outfit of her youth. Though 36 years old now, she fit the size 6 cords as though she had worn them yesterday. Her weight had shifted somewhat over the years, but she still tipped the scales at 115 pounds. Not many 36-year-old’s could say that she thought. Dropping onto the edge of the dais, she slipped on her boots and laced them tight.

“Siri, please confirm my iPhone carries enough charge to complete this mission.”

“The phone is unnecessary for communication with Procurement after initial sync but confirmed. The implanted chip in your shoulder will sync with Procurement once you arrive. You should be perfectly safe in 2912, Rebecca.”

“Right,” she said gruffly. “Safe as can be.” She took her feet. “Tell me I’m doing the right thing, Siri.”

Siri answered as she had every time Rebecca posed the question: “I haven’t the data to formulate a correct answer, Rebecca.”

“Fucking lie then!” she cried, wiping her eyes. She might never see Arma again, Holger, Gudrun, or Frieda. 3109. 2014, for that matter, failing a means to avert the pending disaster.

Frightened and shaking, she commanded: “Temporal coordinates to December 18, 2014, 9:24 p.m. Spatial coordinates my sister’s bedroom, Siri.”

“Confirmed, Rebecca.”

She approached the gate, fear hunching her shoulders and balling her fists. “I can’t promise you a great future, Arma,” she whispered. “I can only try. I love you. I’ll always love you, baby.”

Rebecca stepped through, again leaving The Hall of The Gate silent and empty.

(Continued in FRACTURED REALITY PART TWO)