Un2talented (Book 3 of the Un2 Series)

Dorian followed a few steps behind Cate as she led him through the maze of cubicles that made up the management level of the Temporal Corporation. She acted as a tour guide as they walked.

“All of the workspaces in this area belong to middle managers. The ones along that wall...” Cate flicked her tail, “belong to the team in charge of things that people have been meaning to get around to doing. Lately, they have been focusing on getting refrigerators cleaned out. Next week they’ll be focusing on unread books.”

“Ugh!” Dorian groaned. “I’ve got a salad dressing in my fridge that’s probably two years past its use-by date. It just keeps getting pushed farther and farther back as new food gets put in. Does Thousand Island ever go bad?”

“Was the bottle opened?”

“Yeah.”

“We’d toss it if it were ours,” Cate urged.

As the pair moved beyond a coffee station Cate succumbed to the urge to knock a mug from the counter.

Dorian frowned.

Cate shrugged.

Within a few steps, the surroundings shifted from suburban corporate to ancient temple. Cate stopped at the top of a stone slab staircase that descended into the sound of rushing water hidden within a swirling mist.

“Woah, very mythological.” Dorian walked to the edge of the top step and leaned forward to get a closer look. “Seems out of place amongst all the cubicles.”

“When the Chronostream was conceived the world was far simpler. The architects never imagined how many beings it would take to maintain it. As the planet evolved the workforce outgrew the space very quickly. We must keep finding areas to cram workers into. It’s a shame, really. That area used to be a very nice plaza before the carpet squares and dividers were brought in.”

Cate gestured for Dorian to take a seat on the top step. She sat alongside him.

“This is one of those ‘point of no return’ moments, isn’t it?” Dorian could tell by the look on Cate’s faces.

“Yes, it is. Once you pass through the mist your options for return become very limited.”

“How limited are we talking?” Dorian’s voice quavered.

“Two. You’ll have two ways within your control to get back to life as you know it.”

“Within my control?”

“There’s always an outside chance that someone with access to an ancient artifact will perform a ritual or cast a spell of some kind to retrieve you. Do you know any archeologists or Wiccans?”

“Uh, no. It looks like I’m going to have to stick with just the two. What happens when I pass through the mist?”

“It temporarily suppresses your internal clock. The mist covers you with a chrono-phylactic coating that allows you to separate from your lifestream without growing older or younger.”

“Like a time condom?” Dorian sniggered.

“Little did you know that the first time you would use a condom would be to travel through time.”

“Ouch.”

“So, once you’re wearing your time condom there will only be two ways of merging back into your current life stream. The first option is to pass through the mist a second time. Your other option is to use the breastplate or travel along with someone who is controlling it.”

“What happens if I don’t have access to either of those?”

“You will remain outside of your current life stream and continue living, or dying, within the one you have entered, “Cate stated matter of fact.

Dorian’s eyes widened. “I really hope to avoid the whole dying thing.”

“Don’t we all?”

“What if I do something to alter the Chronostream? I’ve been known to do some doofusy things. . . and that is the last time, I promise.”

“You won’t alter the Chronostream. You can’t. It is the constant that all other life streams spring from. Once you pass through the mist you will be leaving the Chronostream and entering an alternate lifestream. Feel free to screw that one up all you want.”

Dorian slowly palmed his forehead and squeezed his temples between his thumb and middle finger. He closed his eyes and took a breath. “Okay, if I’m understanding this correctly, no matter what happens I will be able to resume my life as long as I make it back through the mist.”

“Or use the armor,” Cate added.

“Okay, good.”

“There’s the whole dying thing, of course. If you die, you’re dead.”

“Got it.”

“The dirt nap,” added head two.

“Got it!”

“Worm food,” purred head three.

“Stop it!”

“We’re just teasing! You’ll probably survive.”

“That is only marginally better.”

“Are you ready for this? Do you need a minute?”

“I better go before I realize what I’m getting myself into.”

Cate began to descend the staircase. She paused a few steps down and looked back to Dorian, who was still seated on the first stair.

“Well?” she urged.

“I’m coming.”

Dorian rose to his feet and stared into the mist. He bolstered up his courage and charged down the steps.

“Geronimo!”

“We wouldn’t...” Cate cautioned as Dorian ran past her and into the mist.

“Yeoow!” Dorian yelped, followed by a dull thud.

Cate sauntered into the mist and up to Dorian sprawled across the steps. “The stone steps can get pretty slippery when covered in chrono-phylactic mist. I guess you can say it’s a self-lubricating time condom.” Cate poked as she continued to the bottom of the staircase.

Dorian crab walked out from the mist and joined Cate. He stood to examine his arms and torso.

“Except for a sore tailbone and dented self-esteem, I don’t feel any different.”

“You shouldn’t, you’re still you. You should only feel your usual inadequacies.”

“For someone who needs my help, you sure are being snarky!”

“Sometimes my feline impulses get the better of me.”

Cate walked a few feet ahead to a polished slab surrounded by a stone arch and turned back to Dorian.

“Welcome to the . . .” Cate hesitated and then sighed and hung her heads, “Chrono-locks. I swear, he was so insecure he had to have his name on everything. Like people wouldn’t know anything that dealt with time wasn’t of his making! To save our breath, just add ‘Chrono’ on the front of anything we point out, okay?”

“Abso-chrono-lutely!”

“I guess we kind of asked for that.”

Dorian stepped up to the slab and ran his hand across the surface. “Is there a magic word you use to open this?”

“Um, sure,” Cate replied. “Why don’t you try to guess it? You will need to say it really loud while closing your eyes.”

Head Two whispered into Head One’s ear.

“Oh, yes, and bow forward while waving your arms.”

Dorian took the required stance and waved his arms. “Abracadabra!”

Nothing happened.

“Nope. Try again. This time make your voice deeper.”

“Open Sesame!”

Still nothing.

“Remember,” Cate hinted,” it was created by the guy that invented time.”

Dorian pondered a moment, reestablished his stance, and then bellowed, “Tempus Fugit!”

The slab began to move. Dorian became visibly excited.

“Did you see that? I did it! I did . . .”

Cate giggled uncontrollably.

“What’s so funny?”

Cate stepped off the large button on the floor that actually triggered the slab.

“Feline instincts?” Dorian sighed.

“You betcha!”