A Collision In Time

Is it a fact—or have I dreamt it—that, by means of electricity, the world of matter has become a great nerve, vibrating thousands of miles in a breathless point of time?

– Nathaniel Hawthorne

May 17, 2289, Sandon, Texas Federation, Northern District

A rooster crowed in the distance as dawn broke. Cara Zitkala-Sa opened her eyes and for a moment forgot where and when she was. The soothing sound of relaxed, steady breathing next to her brought her to her senses. She shifted onto her side and sleep followed.

The room fell into a hypnotic calm.

Later, the smell of coffee again woke her up, but this time her body listened. She had slept well. Cara smiled, noticing breakfast had been delivered to their room, placed on an antique oak table opposite their bed.

She slipped out of bed, wrapped herself in the hotel robe, and moved quietly over to inspect the breakfast. The variety surprised her. There sat carrot bran muffins, a bowl of fresh mixed berries, yogurt, toast and jams, and soft boiled eggs in egg cups.

“Good morning,” Dov said from her bed as Cara poured a cup of coffee. Dov propped the pillows behind her head and sat up.

“Morning, Dov. Did you sleep well? Coffee?”

“Is there tea?”

“Sure. Any preferences?” Cara rifled through the tea selection.

“Masala?”

“Sort of; there is chai. The flavors are similar—both are made with Indian spices.”

“That sounds perfect.” Dov donned her robe, inspired by how comfortable Cara looked, and returned to the bed. “I’m starving, after last night, and it all smells delicious.”

Cara filled two trays with a selection of items and placed breakfast beside Dov on the bed. They ate casually, enjoying the ambience of the old hotel room. A spacious window brought ample sunshine and provided views of the distant mountains.

“I’d like to forget about last night for a little while. Why don’t you tell me about Pachamama?” Cara poured a second cup of coffee.

“Well, what do you want to know?”

“It sounds like paradise.” Cara pulled a chair over beside the window and sat down to gaze at the distant hills. “Well, let’s start here: tell me, did humanity learn its lessons? Did we figure out how to live in harmony with nature?”

Dov savored another sip of her tea. “Yes, we did learn lessons. Pachamama is much cleaner than Earth was, or is now, and we most certainly try to live in harmony with nature.” Dov laughed. “Again, my sentence tenses are confusing. I am unsure if I should say was, will be, or is.”

Cara nodded. “I get it. The English language is linear. Past, present, and future don’t intersect like in a Venn diagram.”

Dov smiled. “If anything, Pachamaman society has created the opposite problem. I think we have moved too far away from promoting technology, innovation, and progress. Every scientific idea is scrutinized. Research is heavily regulated and new ideas and innovation must be approved by layers upon layers of committees and councils before it can be implemented, or even further researched. We may well have created the conditions to undermine Pachamama itself, I am afraid.”

“I don’t understand what you’re getting at,” said Cara.

“For instance, the Heretics as a political movement that seeks to undo human progress.”

“You mentioned them at the lake—the anti-revolutionaries or something.”

“Yes, and some even promote that humans should regress into the animal kingdom, if you can believe it—like anti-evolutionaries, we joke. They are becoming increasingly more dangerous, organized and motivated.”

“And you said your parents may have been involved?”

“I think so, though I can’t be sure.” Dov sighed. “Still, I prefer home, even accepting the Heretic political dangers.”

“I’d love to visit.”

“Well, why don’t I show you, Cara?” Dov reached for her holographic device and powered it on. She gestured to display a three-dimensional image. She moved her palms and the scenery expanded to fill the room. “This is the community where I live. The small city is called New Washahikan.”

“The name sounds Native American.”

“You’re right. The name’s origin is derived from ‘house,’ or a short component of Beaver Hill House from the northern plains, Cree Nation. Some of the original Pachamama citizens came from a city that colonists called Edmonton, where they borrowed the reference.” Dov zoomed into the projections. “And here is my home. It’s designed to be in equilibrium with the contours of the land.”

Dov magnified the three-dimensional projection until her home became life-size. She rotated the image to show the gardens beside her home and glimpses of her neighbors’ residences.

“It’s like Eden,” Cara said. “You are right, the homes blend in to the land around them. Can I see inside yours?”

“It’s modest.”

“Do you think I care about modesty, Dov? Let me see.”

Dov maneuvered the projection and the view moved through her front door and into her kitchen. Then it entered her office, where equipment lay scattered about. “I guess I hadn’t cleaned since the last recording.”

Cara saw Dov’s eyes tear up. “You okay, Dov?”

“I guess I am missing home. I may never see it again.”

Cara leaned over and brushed the hair from Dov’s cheek. “Dov, you live in a beautiful place. We will see it again, I promise.”

They emerged from their room just before lunchtime. Dov knocked on the doorway across the hall. “I assume they are still inside and hard at work. I guess I shouldn’t be guilty about our lazy morning.”

“No, absolutely not, not after the last forty-eight hours. We needed the rest. Full stop.”

“Come in,” said Ariel from the other side of the door.

“Good morning, Ariel,” said Dov. She stepped over power cables and around computer servers and scrutinized the data on display. “You are working on the anomaly. Are you able to analyze the disturbance without access to the Pachamama sensors?”

“In a way, though Cara may understand the process better than you, Dov. We used indirect evidence of the time wave and extrapolated it.” Ariel turned to Cara. “Much like what you did, Cara, when you first proved the existence of the phenomena hundreds of years ago.”

“Wow,” said Cara, “so crazy that you speak of my future self.” She winked at Dov.

“So what about the anomaly?” Dov asked, an impatient edge in her voice.

“Not much has changed,” said Ariel. “At a rough level of calculation, we continue to be three days away from an event. I just wish I knew what that meant specifically.”

“Do we assume the anomaly continues to center around Emerson?” Dov asked.

“I assume so, since the math remained consistent.”

Dov nodded. “Last question and I hate to ask, but any signals from home?”

“Nothing from Pachamama, I am afraid.”

“I won’t give up my hopes for there,” said Dov. She sighed. “Where is Uriel, and Emerson?”

“Uriel is on a tour, thanks to Jeannie. He is trying to analyze potential event triggers and discover anything that might prove useful. I spotted Emerson outside walking, I assume on his way to work.”

“Did he appear safe, Ariel? Did he have an escort with him?”

“The town is now blanketed with monitors. He is well looked after.”

Dov poked Cara. “Come on, let’s go find them.”

Cara and Dov wandered along Main Street, which followed the creek. As they proceeded, people pointed at them, muttered, and stared.

“It’s strange,” Cara said, “how little technological progress has been made over two hundred years. If anything, there is less technology than in my time.”

“This is not uncommon throughout human history,” Dov said. “There are many instances of technological regression. The Dark Ages, for example. I suspect climate change and politics have played a role.”

“I suppose. But when I think of the difference between say, the years 1850 and 2000, the technology between the two is unrecognizable. I just assumed that the pace of technological change would continue.”

“In my timeline,” Dov replied, “the pace of technology change on Earth continued to accelerate over this timeline, so there are already shifts in history. Look.” Dov whispered and indicated two men staring at them from across the street with her eyes. They whistled.

“Men are pigs. Small town gossip is something that hasn’t changed, unfortunately. Just ignore them.”

“Ironic, since the first moral imperative when people time-travel is to avoid drawing attention,” said Dov.

“Let’s walk somewhere less crowded.” Cara took Dov’s hand and led her.

They turned off Main Street and strolled along a road into a residential neighborhood. The number of people thinned until they found themselves alone on a tree-lined street.

“Your turn now,” said Dov. “Tell me about your growing up. What was life like?”

Cara didn’t reply immediately. “Where should I begin?”

“How about at the beginning.” Dov smiled.

They walked in silence for a minute before Cara began.

“Okay, well, I was born in the Ihanktonwan Nation, in South Dakota, which is a rural area in the American Midwest. As a young woman I was proud of my heritage, but I stayed quiet about it. I suppose being self-conscious is a normal reaction for children of minorities, especially given the politics and culture of South Dakota. It was a conservative, Republican state. Yet despite this, I felt lucky to grow up there. I did well in school, and people liked me. I was straitlaced, and I didn’t get into trouble. Like you, I suppose, a love of mathematics and science drove me, rather than say, boys or the need for relationships.” Cara stopped. “I’m not sure there is much more to say about growing up.” She laughed.

“Your first real friend?” probed Dov.

“My grade eight math teacher.” Cara smirked. “Mr. Burrows. He was so kind.”

“No, really, that’s not what I meant.” Dov elbowed Cara. “Someone your age. How about a relationship?”

“Over the years I’ve been with a few men in my life, quite a few.” She rolled her eyes. “Most of my relationships were meaningless, to be honest. There were a small few I cared for, but honestly, I am not sure I’ve ever been in love, or perhaps I don’t understand what love is. Relationships are tough when your real love is your work.” She jabbed Dov. “You?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you are so mysterious.”

“I’m usually quite private; I’m not used to sharing. Uriel and Ariel are programmed to show concern for my welfare but I am not comfortable discussing anything with them. They don’t ask.”

“And your friends?”

Dov shrugged.

“Not a lot of friends?”

“No, my studies consume me, as you said.”

“Have you ever been in love, Dov?”

The question was an awkward one to answer. She wished she could be as honest as Cara had been with her. Dov admired Cara’s bluntness. “Love is a more delicate matter in my culture. I haven’t been with as many as you. There was a special person in my life, though that was a while ago. Maybe over a drink, I can share more.” Dov touched Cara’s arm. “I…”

“I, what?”

* * *

She met him at the noodle house on the bridge. He waved at Dov from the table and gestured for her to join him.

“Dov, you came! I thought you wouldn’t show.”

Dov, pulling the chair out to sit, stopped. “What did you say?”

“Sorry, I know we argued yesterday. Forget it.”

“Am I so hard to be around?”

“No, sorry. You are fantastic. But you said it yourself, you have little patience with relationships. You’re like the argon element, you don’t bond. I was worried about it.” He paused, swallowed, then continued. “Dov, I like you. We’ve been close for months and I think it’s time to take this to another level. Now, what would you like to order?”

“You are right, I am like argon.” Dov stood and left the restaurant.

* * *

Dov found her courage. “I…am enjoying getting to know you, Cara.”

“As I am, Dov.”

They walked together in silence for a few minutes. “Since we haven’t seen Emerson and Uriel yet, shall we give up and go for a hike up the mountain?” Cara suggested.

* * *

Emerson had not gone to the power plant in the morning. A lack of sleep overnight, despite being exhausted, dragged him down. He’d been unable to turn his brain off. The events of the last forty-eight hours replayed again and again in his imagination. When he finally gave in and got out of bed, he ignored his family and skipped breakfast.

As usual, he left home for his morning walk, not wanting to draw attention to his behavior, but his path was not the one he usually took.

As a teenager, he often hiked Forest Road just outside of Sandon, on Mount Payne. Abandoned mines peppered the hillsides, most already exploited by prospectors who sought silver, galena, lead, and iron ore. One day he stumbled across a concealed entrance to a mine untouched for decades. Upon entering he found a natural cave that reached far deeper than the many others previously discovered and vandalized. The cave became his secret sanctuary. Over the years, he hauled in torches, lights and batteries, blankets, canned food, water and other survival goods including weapons and ammunition. He went on to repair and reinforce the wooden structure that framed the mine’s entrance and discovered a functional freshwater well. Emerson created a solid emergency shelter. It was his secret, should it ever be needed.

This morning Emerson hiked to the cave with a duffel bag that contained three semi-automatic rifles and as much ammunition as he could carry in his backpack to add to his stockpile. Inside the cave, he turned on its lights and reorganized the weaponry. He smiled at the irony. A few weeks ago he had decided to grow up, and abandon this childhood fantasy. He decided the cave was no different than the forts children build in their backyards. This morning, however, the cave took on new meaning and importance. It was a fort indeed, and it could play a key role in the defense of Sandon, should that be required.

Emerson removed a rifle from the duffel bag and handled the weapon delicately. He had been told the weapons were over 150 years old. Vintage Marine rifles manufactured from carbon fiber and aluminum. He polished the gun, then raised and aimed it toward a target he had mounted years ago, and grinned while pulling the trigger. The shot echoed throughout the cave system. When Emerson spotted the destroyed target, he laughed. He cleaned and loaded the remaining weapons and hid them in a convenient spot. Then he left the cave, and hurried back to Sandon.

* * *

Jeannie opened the door of the power plant and entered with Uriel. They walked a few meter down the hall toward the offices. “Hello,” she bellowed. She turned to Uriel. “I’m sure Emerson would be happy to give you a tour.” She walked a few steps. “Hello, is anyone here?”

A man’s head poked out from an office. “Hey Jeannie, how are you?”

Jeannie looked surprised. “Hi, Joseph. Hey, is Emerson around?”

“No, he called this morning and said he wasn’t feeling well, so we swapped our shifts.”

“Oh, strange.” Jeanie frowned.

“Can I help instead?” Joseph asked.

“I was going to ask him to give a tour of the plant for my friend here. But would you mind if we just walked around ourselves?”

“Not at all, and if you have questions, I’ll be here. I am just working on some safety reports.”

“Thanks, Joe, we promise to be safe and will keep everything in its place.” Jeannie took Uriel by the hand and directed him to follow her.

The power plant was a mix of modern and antique machinery fused by human ingenuity, creative engineering, and luck. Decades of builders had worked miracles to rebuild the electrical storage systems to augment the power generated from hydro. The fact that multiple power plants worked after hundreds of years, in sync, was additional proof of their engineering artistry.

Jeannie and Uriel walked amongst turbines, pipes, and machinery and beside control panels and monitoring systems. Uriel reached over and touched a stream of water that cascaded through a rotating wheel. “This is clever. I am fascinated by the energy potential. This could generate a lot of power, should one need it.” Uriel nodded to himself.

Uriel changed the subject. “Can I ask you about the relationship between Sandon and the neighboring towns? I deduce there would be no soldiers and drones if things were harmonious.”

Jeannie nodded and scowled. “Things aren’t harmonious, as you say. There is tension, and it’s been this way my entire life. There’s a trade imbalance that creates a social imbalance in turn. We supply precious commodities to the Greater Texas Federation, like iron ore, gold, silver, and precious metals for batteries. This makes us the ‘haves,’ as they say in New Denver and Silverton. We engineer. We manage and own the means of production. They are the ‘have-nots,’ as they say. The have-nots possess few resources and fewer prospects. This situation caused some jealousy, and I suppose that’s for good reason. But as a result, Sandon has endured decades of raiding parties and bombings. Years ago we negotiated a deal for protection from Texas. Soldiers and arms come up from Denver in exchange for a stable supply of raw resources, but this probably only escalated the situation. So here we find ourselves today.”

“Thank you, Jeannie; knowing this is helpful. I have a partial hypothesis now and I think I understand what Asmodi is up to, but I don’t understand Emerson’s connection.”

“What’s he up to, then?” asked Jeannie.

“My theory is, he is taking advantage of a stressful situation and will harness it to create destruction and radically shift hist—er, the future. Just like how a single assassination in 1914 shifted the history of Europe, I assume conditions on the ground here may have an analogous domino effect. The puzzle is Emerson. What does Modi want with him? I have no theories. Emerson must have specific characteristics he is interested in.”

“That he does,” admitted Jeannie, “that he does.”

They exited the power plant and walked around the building to give Uriel a sense of how the water flowed. Then they headed back to Sandon.

“I have a little more exploring to do,” said Uriel, “but I can proceed on my own. Thank you so much for the tour and conversation, Jeannie. Very illuminating, indeed.”

Jeannie smiled. “My pleasure.” She hesitated. “Hey, why don’t you come for dinner this evening, and bring your crew? Say at six.”

Uriel considered. “That is most generous of you, Jeannie. We will see you tonight.”

That evening the time travelers and Emerson sat outside on the back porch around a long picnic table at Jeannie’s home. They shared fried chicken and biscuits, collard greens, stewed carrots, hand-picked garden salad and strawberry cheesecake for dessert. Red wine from grapes grown and bottled in the Kootenay region accompanied the meal.

“Fried chicken reminds me of my childhood and my grandmother’s cooking,” said Cara as she picked up a drumstick. “This is phenomenal.”

“Is wine produced here?” asked Dov.

“Yes; a benefit of climate change, I suppose,” said Jeannie. “Everything at the table is sourced from nearby. We are fortunate to have an abundance of food.”

“After the last few days, today is exactly what my body needed,” said Dov. Cara nodded as she enjoyed a forkful of fresh salad.

“Well, eat up,” said Jeannie. “There is plenty of food for seconds.”

A short time later, the dishes were cleared and candles were lit.

“That was amazing,” Cara said as she raised her wine glass. “Thank you, Jeannie, it’s one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time.”

“Here, here,” said Uriel in agreement. His London accent caused raised eyebrows from Jeannie. He decided not to pursue the inside joke.

At the far end of the table, Emerson had eaten in silence. He acted withdrawn and contemplative throughout dinner. Jeannie kept her eye on Emerson, and though she understood he had endured hardship the last two days, she wished he would snap out of it. “So, Em, we went by the power plant today, to give Uriel a tour, but didn’t see you. What was up?” Jeannie probed. “We missed you, and nobody knows the plant as well as you.”

Emerson glanced sheepishly at Jeannie. “I just went for a hike, actually. I’m still trying to make sense of what happened. I needed to get some exercise and recharge my batteries.”

Dov finished the remaining wine in her glass. “I share your sentiment, Emerson. Today helped recharge my batteries as well. If it helps, I think we can support y’all to bring light to what happened in the last forty-eight hours”. She cringed at her attempted Texan accent. “As you know, we have lessons learned in dealing with Asmodi—or Modi, I should say. We are suspicious of his motives.”

“And my role?” demanded Emerson. “How do I fit in?”

“Exactly—we have to figure that out. That information is critical. We are going to put together a briefing for the Sandon town council but we may as well tell you what we uncovered. Uriel?” She gestured to him.

“Early today,” began Uriel, “Ariel directed nano-drones to spy on any discussions in Modi’s house and the local administrative buildings in Silverton and New Denver. We hoped to deduce what sort of plans they were up to. So we listened in. We presume that he means significant harm to Sandon, and there can be no doubt. Let me explain what we uncovered.”

“That, I don’t dispute,” interrupted Emerson with a timid smile. “He has already caused damage.”

Uriel continued. “We overheard him speaking angrily to the townsfolk. He is organizing them, agitating them, causing alarm and sounding violent. We believe Sandon must be ready for an assault to occur by May 20th. We think the actions won’t involve only a handful of bandits, as you normally encounter and which are easily defeated by your soldiers. We have uncovered proof they will raid with a considerable number of personnel and weapons. We specifically overheard them detailing logistics concerning sophisticated armaments and ammunition.”

“Oh my god,” said Jeannie.

“I am sorry to ruin your dinner with this news.” Dov grimaced.

Cara spoke up. “We had to tell you tonight. We need to plan a defense.”

“I agree with Cara,” Emerson said. “There’s no point in waiting. Jeannie, let’s call a council meeting for tomorrow. I’m done with Modi’s manipulation, and he’s embarrassed me enough. We can’t stand down. I won’t do that. We must do whatever it takes and I am sure Sandon will move with us, whatever that means. We will be prepared to defend our home.” His expression darkened and he stood. “Dinner was delicious, but I think I should call it a night. I’ll send an email to the council when I get home. Jeannie, I assume you will sponsor the discussion?” He inclined his head. “Good night, y’all.”

The group watched him leave.

“That was a sudden departure,” Cara said.

“He’s changed, these last few weeks, “ said Jeannie. “Less playful, less of a boy. It’s a shame. And of course, the last twenty-four hours have been awful.”

Dov rose. “We’d better turn in as well.”