The cardiac shield was firmly in place, although strands of silver pulsated at its edge. The puckered maroon of an incision snaked into under out of the metal plate. Shiver and slither of phase shielding. Hannon covered himself.
“So now you know.”
“You found a way to contain it.”
“In some.”
“In men.”
“In some men.”
“It spread to all of the worlds through the halo?”
“It spread to most of the worlds. Maire’s Extinction Fleet took care of the rest.”
Not a blush spread on Zero’s cheeks. Somewhere below, the humming of landing struts and the jolt of contact. Crackle of phase release.
“You called this place Heaven.”
“Yes…It is.”
“Who’s here?”
Hannon smoothed the front of his uniform.
“It’s her. Judith.”
Cold eyes look at nothing. “It
He found that he always opened his eyes before she did. Tip of nose to tip of nose, gentle motion of an Eskimo kiss. Liquid sound of her smile. Dimple revealed.
His flesh didn’t change.
He brushed Lilith’s hair back from her cheek. Lips bridged distance. He stood from the chair, pulling on his pants. Buckling his belt. Pulling on shirt.
She
made no move to dress.
The vacuum chair rotated from his exit. As it spun beyond her visual range, she sat up, arms crossed on the top. She watched him tuck in his shirt. The chair completed its rotation and he sat to lace his boots.
“So professional.” Sarcastic. Grin.
“I have to look my best for the troops.”
“Right.” She straightened his collar. There was
in her mind.
She held his hand, looking over every inch for any sign of
The bridge door alarm beeped.
“Fuck.” Lilith crawled out of the chair. Hunter sat back and watched as she pulled on clothing. Her hair was a mess. He shook his head and smiled.
“En—”
“No.”
Lilith turned to him with a look of confusion.
“Your shield, sweetness.”
She blushed. She blushed easily. Eyes closed, inhale, hand taps chestplate. Her form was enveloped with sloshing glass. She ran her fingers through her hair. “Enter.”
Walking into a moment…He was.
He shut the door. The wind was trapped outside. A newspaper fluttered and a hand went to it, held it to the tabletop. Nirvana. He smiled, remembered how
He walked to the counter. She was already sliding his cup toward him. Black, no cream, no sugar, just black. He leaned over and windburned lips brushed the dimpled cheek.
It wasn’t a literary crowd, but they were trying. A quick survey of the customers revealed books and newspapers, cigarettes and cloves, coffee and cappuccino. Anachronism in the world of the new future.
Sip.
It really wasn’t as bad as the kids thought. He’d tasted worse mud.
“How’s your day been?”
He shrugged. Pale blue-green eyes squinted, tried to dig behind his own. “You know.”
“I thought you might enjoy that.” She tilted her head toward the back of the shop.
“What?”
“The book. That girl has your book.”
The young woman was much too entranced with her beau to notice the middle-aged couple staring at her. He noted with some concern the black glove on the table, the silver ring now gracing silver hand, and he knew, he just knew.
There was a copy of “The Stillness Between” on the table.
The young couple held hands…There were still tears in the girl’s eyes.
She leaned in close from across the counter and whispered. “He just proposed to her.”
“Ah.”
Sip.
President Jennings was on the link.
Shivers.
“Paul?”
His hand shook as he placed the cup back down. Chattering staccato before complete contact. She put her hands over his, made them still
books, you have so much time! Are you sure you’re okay?”
He blinked, confused. More and more…More and more. He was losing moments. He was somewhere between now and worlds of impossibility.
He smiled, not convincing at all. “I’m okay. I never get used to seeing people with that book.”
She grinned. “At least you’re in good company. That couple over there was looking at Hesse’s Demian and Hayes’ Deus Ex earlier. In fact,” she leaned in, a conspirator, “he looks just like Hayes. Your protege might be in my coffeehouse.”
Something that he didn’t want to acknowledge crawled up and down his spine for a while, then settled in at the base of his skull, tickling, raising gooseflesh. His grip tightened on the coffee cup.
“Yeah. Good company.”
She squeezed his hand. “Hey. You sure you’re okay?”
Nod. “Yeah. Just deja vu.”
Eyebrows furrowed. “Again?”
The young couple walked out. The man looked at Paul for an instant, smiled. There was something in that glance
that broke his heart.
He reached into his front pocket and pulled out his marble. It rolled across the uneven countertop and she picked it up. The iridescent patina was scratched by half a century of travel and abuse. Four bright distortions winked in the afternoon light, scarred onto the surface from the pocket companionship of a brass Zippo with an engraved floral pattern that had long since been lost to the miles and decades of his life.
“I need a cigarette.”
“You know you shouldn’t—”
“Ever feel like you’ve lived too long? Like you’ve lived it all before?”
He hadn’t intended to hurt her with the statement, but he saw the wound develop in those eyes. At seventy- eight, they were both just over middle-aged, but still…Sometimes he felt like he wasn’t supposed to be there
