Gallie and I are introduced to a Colonel Ahmed, who seems to be a relaxed and amiable fellow with none of the hard edges you might expect of a soldier. He smiles and comments on the unseasonably warm weather.
“Our local historian confirms this place is built on the same site as the old chateau,” Zhivov says. “It’s about twice the footprint of the original structure but the east boundaries of the old and new structures coincide.”
“How far is the east wall from the barn site?” Prasad asks.
“About a hundred yards,” Gallie answers.
“That a problem?” Prasad asks the colonel.
“No, shouldn’t be,” he answers. We watch the activity in the front grounds of the Leatown Retreat and Spa.
“Is croquet your game?” I ask Prasad.
“Cricket,” he replies. Of course. I look back toward where the barn had been. Our barn. Temporal logic is such a quagmire. I think of my friends (because that’s what they are) still suffering. Yet that suffering happened over two centuries ago. But that’s a bullshit theoretical detail. They’re suffering until we put a stop to it. Yet, in some way, we either did or didn’t put a stop to it–we succeeded or we didn’t and it’s a settled matter. And still, that’s not true; it’s not set in stone. A park just appeared in Risley in place of the shopping mall that thought it was set in stone. It just wasn’t. If anything about temporal logic was seeming to get more comprehensible to me after all of this, then it was slipping away from me again.
I’d asked Gallie to walk with me as Prasad, Zhivov and the colonel plan their plans. We’re on the edge of where the woods had begun. I’m thinking of what we did in those woods. Is she thinking about that too?
“You know, Bess just came in, uninvited,” I say. “At first I thought it was you. I was a happy man.”
“And just how far did you get before you realized it wasn’t me?”
“She terrified me at ‘hello’,” I say. Gallie stares at me for a moment then breaks into a smile.
“I know,” she says. “I saw her walk past my door. I was coming in to rescue you.” I’m aghast.
“Why did you leave it so long?” I ask. “I was in serious trouble.”
“I didn’t want to get between a man and his other-worldly wife.”
“You bitch,” I say. “You were testing me.”
“I wasn’t, so get over it. Besides, you passed.”
“If there was a barn or a tree anywhere near, I’d take you behind it.”
“Would you? Maybe I’d let you.”
FORTY-THREE
I join Gallie in her room to nuke a late supper and drink cheap white wine. I propose a toast. “To our 2021 colleagues, assholes to a person, but soon to be freed assholes.” Freed assholes Gallie echoes.
“You know, I’m not sure I could work in your TMA,” Gallie says putting down her glass.
“I know. Everyone is so damn collegial here,” I say. “It was the first thing I noticed. Where did we go wrong?”
“Well, luckily, your nasty work environment didn’t have any serious consequences. Oh ... Kasper Asmus.” I take the nuked food out of the microwave and inspect it with disgust. A dessert compartment of red goo has bubbled over into an orange-colored compartment of first course matter.
“Is it going to work?” I ask. Gallie’s smile fades.
“I think so, Joad.”
“So many people could be hurt. Here and there.”
“We’ll take every–”
“And it is a demented plan, isn’t it? I mean, barking.”
“It’s not like we had to pick between this one and a sensible plan. We’re taking the path of least crazy. It’ll work.”
“Okay, “ I say, but it’s not okay. It’s several tachyon blasts away from okay. We scrape up our dinners and eat. Then we pour more wine and lie back on the cot, Gallie’s head on my chest. I curl her chestnut hair around my finger. “Abioye is pretty strict on the rules,” I say.
“She’s TMA through and through,” Gallie replies.
“So Bess has to go back to 2030 or wherever. No ifs, ands, or buts.”
“No ifs, ands, or buts.” Gallie looks up at me. “It’s why we exist. What we’re all about.”
“I know,” I say. “And what about me?” Gallie looks away. “I have to go back to 2021 after all this is over, no ifs ands or buts?” She doesn’t answer. “I’m not happy with that. I’m where I want to be right now.” Gallie remains silent. “There’s nothing I want in 2021. All that’s there for me is a crappy, dilapidated house and a job I don’t want any more. And not ... this.” Gallie kisses me. “We can disappear can’t we? Disappear somewhere in time.” Gallie smiles.
“Floating through time and space forever, star-crossed lovers,” she whispers into my chest.
“We can do that.”
“What a nightmare for TMA. Two of their team spitting on every principle they stand for, causing havoc across eternity. Home-grown vandals.”
“You’re overplanning, Gallie. We just need to vanish. Never be heard from again.” I know I’m not supposed to see it, but Gallie wipes a tear from her eye before she sits up.
“You know we can’t do that,” she whispers and refills her glass. “I hate it but the universe just didn’t line us up. You’re out there, but you’re ten years old. That’s the one second per second Joad the universe gave me.”
“The universe? The universe is a dumbass. If it wasn’t, there’d by no job for TMA. You know that, Gallie. We have careers built on correcting the mistakes the universe makes.”
Gallie smiles. “But not
