Chloe stood in front of the thick glass wall at one end of their spacious bedroom, using it as a pale sort of mirror while she leaned her head to one side, press-dried her hair with a thick towel. As she looked past her reflection, out to the darkness and lights of the early desert evening, she felt the city. The pent up energy. New Year's Eve. 2016 was still six hours away.
She refocused on her own reflection, naked, fresh from the shower. A little more athletic than she used to be, but still basically her. Trapped forever in my 19-year old body. That's never gonna get old… Heh.
As casually as she'd glanced out the window, Chloe shifted her sight beyond, to other points of view. Saw her body silhouetted against the light of the room from outside, through one of her drones. Went wider. Across wavelengths. Quick-scanned all three wings of their building at once through the eyes of the other tiny drones that formed the first perimeter shell. Then she expanded outward through more distant layers, giving her a comprehensive sense of everything within a few miles.
It was like a city-wide retina. A light-field surveillance dome around them that could see inward and outward at the same time. Not through video or pictures. There were no lenses or optics in the traditional sense. Just unfocused sensors; raw information about photons themselves. Direction, scatter, polarity, wavelength, energy levels. Every drone, every angle, every point of view stitched into one simple computational virtual reality in her head.
Nothing out of place. Again.
She could hear Max in the bathroom behind her, brushing her teeth. Chloe called out, "Maximousse - which one of us is playing arm candy tonight? Need to figure out what to wear…"
Max replied indistinctly through toothpaste-foam-mouth "mhwy naat boeth?"
"Yeah. Fair enough." laughed Chloe. "Hard not to when we're us, right?"
Chloe heard happy sounds from Max, but couldn't make out what she was trying to say. Understood the spirit.
A distant slow wave of movement caught her attention. The Las Vegas Strip had only been closed to traffic for a few minutes, but she could see that the edges of the road were already lost as pedestrians flooded in from the sidewalks. More than three hundred thousand people were in town for the long party week. She and Max would be away from the crush of the Strip tonight, but the building energy and excitement of the crowds should add to the atmosphere regardless.
She remained absently aware of her extended vision, but pulled her focus back to her own eyes. Need something sexy, but classy. …ish. Something that won't restrict mobility. She didn't know if the last part was more for the dancing, or in case of unexpected trouble. Or both? "Oh. And on that note…" Chloe crossed the room to check their analog dropbox.
It was a simple system. Just a small plain wooden box on a sideboard in their room, next to Max's guitar. A place to leave themselves notes from the future. They'd received a few since moving in a year and a half ago. Tips. Intel from their future selves. Lists of names with locations and other identifying details that had apparently taken them years in the future to track down. Detailed warnings about calamitous events elsewhere in the world. An attempted terror attack in Athens. A school shooting in LA. A cruise ship that would have gone down with all passengers in the chilly North Atlantic. More. All prevented invisibly, silently.
The box was usually empty, but they made a habit of checking it daily, just in case. Chloe lifted the lid.
Max emerged from the bathroom on her way to their closet, wrapped in a fluffy towel, hair still damp. Her hair was a little shorter in the back than the front, layered. Lowest tips on her left side dipped in blue, past her chin. Subtle changes over the years.
Chloe lifted out a small notecard with one line. Held it up for Max.
"Ruh-roh. What's it say?" Max headed over.
Brow furrowed, Chloe read out, "Don't hurt them. They're in trouble too."
"That's…vague."
"Your writing. Details would have been nice, dude."
"Unless us knowing the details would have changed something?" Max looked puzzled.
Chloe shook her head. "Fucking time travel. Aren't we trying to change everything anyway? Kinda the point."
Max looked closer, pointed at a splotch in the lower left corner of the card. "Wait…Chloe is that…is that blood?"
Chloe scratched the surface, smelled. Licked the splotch.
"Ew!"
"Ketchup."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"So I jumped back, made a snack, then left us a super-vague warning note?"
"I'm not gonna say that first part totally sounds like something you'd do, but…that totally sounds like something you'd do."
"Huh. Yeah."
"Moving on…"
"I guess we should be prepared for…something then?"
"No idea when. Is this for tonight? Tomorrow? Next spring? You didn't put an event date. Or your origin date - you always put your origin date." Chloe was a little frustrated. Information without context often created more problems than it solved. They both knew better. Which meant leaving it off had to be intentional. Which said 'complicated'. Shit.
Max leaned against the sideboard, jumped up a little to sit next to Chloe. Her bare ankles crossed, legs swinging slightly below. "So we don't even know when I came from when I left this? Maybe I was just in a hurry and assumed we'd sort it out?" She knew better, but had to say it so they could reject it.
"Maybe you jumped back from an alternate hell-future where tomatoes and tomato products were extinct?"
"Shut up, Chloe. You're such a dork."
"Okay, but for real, Max - I mean, how the fuck could you possibly be in a hurry?"
"Right." Max shook her head.
"What could cause you to hide when you came from?"
"Chlo, even if the date didn't matter, I'd still drop it in - just so we wouldn't wonder like we are now."
"So…that means you definitely left it off on purpose."
"It's part of the message." Max suggested.
"Why? What would you mean?"
"Something with hidden ripples? A longer term impact?" Max was thinking out loud.
"Doesn't make sense. You always leave way more detail than we need. Why would this one be different?"
"It's gotta be significant. And us knowing… oh. shit. yeah. Chloe…precogs. Duh." Max let out a breath. Solved. Probably?
"A probe? Fuckin' morons. Like they didn't get shut down hard enough last time. Um. If we change something now, they'll still know the change is coming, won't they?"
Max shrugged. "Vagueing it up in the note might be enough to create uncertainty, hide the effect of the tip from them until it's too late - since we don't really know anything yet. We don't have any clear intentions to project forward."
"They know they can't throw telepaths at us anymore. If they still have any left working for them. And you've been sparring with friendly whisperers… so…I guess precogs behind the scenes makes the most sense. Like maybe you intended to give us enough to change the outcome, but not enough to tip them off that whatever they have planned won't work?"
"That would mean it's important to us in the future that their thing stays in motion. Huh. Maybe this gets us new leads or something? But when?"
"Timing is also a message. Gotta be tonight, Max. New Year's Eve. Celebs. Tons of cameras though. We're all gonna be at Tracey's thing?"
Max agreed. "Probably not coincidence. Would have been tomorrow otherwise."
Chloe asked, "Give John a heads-up? Security?"
"It's their night. We shouldn't worry them. And if it really is a precog driven thing, the fewer people who know the better. Keep the incidental changes small… We still don't know for sure what the message itself means. 'Don't hurt them. They're in trouble too.' So…there's someone we interact with? Someone new? Who are they? Why would we hurt them?"
"We're not hunting, so maybe they get attacky? Get hurt during our self-defense? Or others-defense?"
"Maybe. 'They're in trouble too.' The words are really specific. Means more than one group of people in trouble. That sounds like there are people beyond these people we should be helping, maybe?" Max flipped the card over to see if there was more on the back. Blank.
"Fuckin' vague, dude."
"Well, all we really said was not to hurt them. So obviously everything else came out okay. Except…we hurt them last time. Which was enough to create a problem later I guess. Otherwise I would have written 'stop them' or 'save them' with a fuck-ton more detail I think. Obviously not a real threat to us, but something we should deal with differently than we would without the advice."
"But why did you leave us a note at all? Why pass this off to now-us? Why didn't you just rewind if something didn't go right? Or jump back and change it directly?"
"Maybe the bad didn't show up til later? Maybe a jump would have changed other things too? Or too many witnesses or cameras for whatever happened? Mystery."
"Complicated you mean. On the bright side, this is simplifying my wardrobe choices for tonight." Chloe moved away from the table, turned toward Max, hand out.
Max smiled as she took it, hopped down and followed. "Weren't you complaining a week ago that it's been too quiet?"
Chloe led them into their over-large walk in closet. Lights came on automatically. "Yeah, but I was mostly kidding. I like quiet. There's less screaming when it's quiet. Right there in the definition." Chloe pulled a simple blue cocktail dress off the rack for Max, held it up to her.
Max batted her eyes, tilted her head in a simple pose.
"If we're gonna play this right, we can't worry about it. Can't change too much. If anything happens, we'll just keep the note in mind and see where it takes us. It'll be fun, right?" Max reached down to grab her white high-top sneakers. All about balance.
Max ordered a drink for Chloe, and a refresh of her own sparkling water. Bubbles made everything more festive. She was on alert, but not on edge. More curious than anything. They had a mystery. Or…something. Unexpected small adventures were a nice distraction. As long as they stayed small…
The bartender handed her back two glasses. She nodded a thank you, but his attention was already on the next guest. She moved back to where she'd left Chloe, but she wasn't there. Max looked around the room, went up on her toes, wishing for half a second that she was just a little taller.
The gallery atrium was huge. Ceiling at least eight stories up, front wall around the entrance was all curved metal and glass, with catwalks and suspended lights crisscrossing the volume above. Like everything in Vegas, it was overbuilt. A cylindrical space as wide as a soccer field. Escalators curved up the walls along each side. A massive floating glass staircase rose from the middle of the room, ending halfway up the back wall. Each gallery floor level around the perimeter was open to the atrium, with low walls for safety. The gallery proper stretched past the openings into the depths of adjoining buildings on three sides, giving the appearance of alternating bands of light and dark climbing the walls of the atrium.
This space was set up as the most public and grown-uppy section for tonight. A string quartet played in front of an acoustic lens on a slightly raised platform to one side, filling the atrium with beautiful sounds. Multiple bars flowed around the perimeter. Large round tables and chairs filled the room on three sides of the glass stairs, with standing tables in the spaces between. Low sofas with coffee tables hunkered in sunken casual areas of the floor, as artworks, plants and sculptures intermingled with people. Lighting was bright and cheerful, fading with elevation. They'd be able to see the fireworks from anywhere inside through the glass.
It was early, only 10pm, but the tables and bars were full. Charity gala, silent auction. Max had seen a few actors and actresses, musicians among the crowd. At least one congressperson she'd met before. Families with older children. Local wealth and civic leaders. The red carpet and sponsored logo wall outside flashed with each new arrival. A number of photographers mingled with the crowds, snapping shots inside as well. And a local TV station sent two camera guys to get b-roll and cutaway streams for their coverage of celebrations across the city in the lead-up to midnight. John had given them a heads-up about that, just in case.
Chloe wanted to explore the less grownup sections since they'd arrived. Three large rooms had been converted into themed party spaces, one on each side at ground level, behind multiple sets of doors. One was set up as a 90's rave. Black-lights, glow-sticks, DJs with headlamps pushing out thumping old school electronica. Another had a few live bands scheduled, but Max wasn't familiar with them. The third was a more standard modern dance club vibe. A Russian ice-bar version the 90's rave room, updated for 2016. All glowing blue translucence and pulsing dance music. Soundproofing mostly kept the spaces separate.
But Chloe wouldn't have left the atrium without her. Especially not when they were meeting friends.
Scanning the crowd again, Max finally caught a flash of color between moving bodies, halfway to the floating stairs. Blue. White. Amber. There you are. Never where I leave you, of course. Always on the move…
Max paused before heading over, gazing at her from a distance. Just for a moment. Still. The strings played. She could see Chloe leaning casually against a table, actively engaged in conversation with an orbit of new people. A few leaned back to take selfies with her. Chloe was always the more visible of the two of them. Tended to stand out. Draw small crowds. Which was fine with Max. She was all about team Chloe tonight.
Max could play roles when needed, but preferred the option to blend in. They were both reclusive when it came to press, but Chloe seemed genuinely pleased with their weird sort of minor celebrity out in public like this. Max recognized it as inevitable, without feeling any particular way about it. Familiar. Necessary. Neither good nor bad. Same as their last hundred years before her jump back.
The drinks felt cold her hands. Fighting the brief chill, she playfully imagined for a second that she was here alone, had never met Chloe before tonight. Standing in this room full of energetic, interesting, shiny new people, she knew she'd have been drawn right into Chloe's orbit with the rest of them. Like gravity. Falling easily.
Doesn't matter where you wander off to. You know I'll always find you…
For her part, Chloe was rocking a long white strapless neoprene dress, slit at the front midway down her left thigh. Form-fitting. Blue edge accents matching her hair. Shoulders and arms bare. Aside from her more permanent adornments. Max loved her easy laugh. The way her eyes lit up when she was excited about something. Noticed the white combat boots under her dress, because of course. She was still Chloe…
In some sense, she felt more familiar to Max with each passing day. She could see small flashes of her first Chloe, as she was nearer to the end. Like tonight. Maybe it was just her memories asserting themselves. Or perhaps the two of them were more connected than she'd realized.
Time enough. Max gently excused her way through the crowd. More than a few people recognized her, graciously made room. She reached Chloe. Handed her a glass, catching the tail end of some joke or another. Chloe switched hands, taking Max's without looking, leaned into her in their old familiar way.
"…and that's why you never pee underwater in an Amazonian river…" Chloe laughed, while her orbiting fans shared a mixture of laughter and uncomfortable wincing. Max spied more than a few knees pressed firmly together. The myth of the candiru, no doubt, Max thought, rolling her eyes at Chloe.
She leaned close, whispered, "You ran off. Always leaving, you are, young Price."
Chloe smiled mischievously, whispered back, "What? I had my eyes on you the whole time. Saw you watching. Tell me later what you were thinking about, k? And did I mention you look really cute? Chucks were the right call."
"Suck up. You have to tell me I look cute. You dressed me. And I know you do this on purpose. You just like watching me look for you. Ever since nap-time hide and seek."
"I miss nap time. Like, a lot. And…guilty…" Chloe was about to whisper something more when they heard the over-loud fake-drunk voice behind them.
"Excuse me…I'm looking for Fortune's Fastest Rising Stars of 2015?"
In her best fake condescending voice, Chloe spoke without turning. "You know stars don't rise, right?"
"But Fastest Falling Stars sounds like something bad." A chuckle.
"Those are meteorites. Not stars." Impatient disdain dripping from her voice.
Sadvoice. "My bad."
"Besides, as I recall it, the headlines said 'Fastest Rising Superstars'… Get your shit square, Michaels."
"Really my bad then… Wow. I…I should just go."
Chloe finally turned, tried to keep a straight face. "Oh, hey John." She looked first at him and then back to the woman next to him, eyebrows arched. "Uh. Damn, brah. Does your girlfriend know you kidnapped some random hottie for tonight?"
John looked at his date, back to Chloe, said, "Shhhh."
She was wearing an elegant Victorian-inspired knee-length dress with tight red and black textured patterns on the corset, low cut, contrasting black lace billowing up from behind her shoulders and back. Bare legs, heeled booties. Delicate black lace gloves ending at the wrist. Dark burgundy hair done up, chin-length strands sweeping to the sides, dropping, framing her face. Pale skin. Intelligent, playful brown eyes, full lips. Looking every bit the young trust-fund socialite she actually was.
Max turned, eyes smiling, "Hey John. Hi Trace! This is a really lovely party."
Tracey responded. "Max, you look darling. Bring it in." She leaned in, kissed Max once on each cheek in her terribly charming British way. "And he knows I'd kill him, Chloe." she laughed, repeating kisses.
John gave them each a hug as well. "We've been practicing some advanced mingling techniques tonight. Saw a few other friends up front, if you're at all into that sort of thing?"
Max & Chloe excused themselves from Chloe's orbital pod, motioned for John and Tracey to lead the way.
Tracey rested her elbow on the table, chin on her hand. Tired, she'd had at least one drink too many to still feel completely sober, but not enough to show it. She hoped, anyway. She leaned her head, read John's watch beside her. 11:15. This feeling would wear off in a half hour or so. Her other hand rested comfortably on his thigh, under the table.
Rather than sit at one large table like normal people, they'd jammed together a few of the standing tables, liberated some barstools and set up a huddle to the right, midway between the entrance and the staircase. With Tracey sitting still for once, the wait staff were extra attentive.
"How long have you been awake, Tracey?" asked Sophie with a look of concern.
"Too long, dear." she replied. John had mentioned her before. Sophie…Martin was it? Worked in HR or something at his company. Have to do a better job committing John's friends to memory… Tonight was the first time they'd met. Around Tracey's age, she spoke with a slight accent; French Canadian maybe. She seemed friendly, with bright inquisitive eyes. The kind that probably didn't miss a thing.
Tracey had been here since last night, coordinating with the event production company, caterers, other fundraising committee members, making sure everything was set up, navigating inevitable last minute problems. This late in the evening, the auction and raffles and museum updates were long done. Everything was on rails for the dancing and cocktails and final countdown. She'd made her obligatory rounds over the course of hours, spent time with everyone she needed to. Now it was time to kick off her heels. Metaphorically. She'd never actually, of course… can you imagine?
On the other side of John, Tyrell Williams. He'd been out with them as much as anyone. Old friend of John's. Different girl each time, but Tracey wasn't a prude about such things. Tonight, he was stag, but probably not for long. More than a few women had been eyeing him, and she was sure someone would make a move before midnight. If she and John hadn't been together…
Then there was John. She smiled to herself, remembering their almost-not beginning. Coffee shop on the way to work for both of them. She wasn't impressed with him the first time they met. Or the second. At all. He was attractive. Charming. But that hadn't worked out so well for her in the past. And her mind was in another place anyway. But he was persistent in a relaxed way, and eventually grew on her. Wore her down, as he liked to joke when telling the story. They were in a good place now. Not too fast, not too slow. Obviously going somewhere, but there wasn't any uncomfortable pressure about it. Things were mostly easy with him. Low drama, high fun factor.
Unlike her, he rarely talked about himself or his work though. Some things like that bothered her. Not so much the odd hours he kept. Her own travel could be that way. It was the secrecy. About his past in the military, the work he'd done as an advisor or…whatever, and his current role as a senior executive with MCCP. It all made perfect sense on the face of it - and made him seem a little more mysterious and interesting in the beginning. But after all this time, the mystery wasn't as interesting. She still didn't know much beyond those basic facts. No idea what a normal day at work was like for him. It wasn't that she really needed the information, it was more about what it represented. A part of his life that she knew she'd never have access to. Locked doors. A limit to voluntary sharing. She was worried it might become more important to her in time, and could limit their relationship. Wasn't sure yet.
Sometimes he'd talk about them though. Max. Chloe. She'd gotten used to the blanket admiration in his voice when he did, but she still didn't entirely see it herself. Didn't see them in the same way.
They were an odd thing. Across the table from her. John's bosses. Seemed so young, just normal American girls, all smiles and energy. Cute, but…ordinary in a way. The room was full of girls just like them. At least most of the new-money tech billionaires over in Silicon Valley had the good sense to come out of proper schools… You could see the toil along the way. But these girls were just art school refugees from a shabby, small town upbringing, no higher-education backgrounds or aspirations to speak of, and no family connections anywhere important.
She knew that was deceptive. Reductionist. And completely unfair of her - she was self-aware enough to recognize her own inherited biases. And she really did adore them both. They'd all been out together several times in the six months she and John had been more than just coffee. She'd known of them by profile and reputation before that of course. They were something, even if they didn't totally make sense to her. But she still had the thoughts she had, even if they were wrong-minded.
She'd grown up in an environment of real wealth and power. Old money. In spite of her privileged upbringing, or perhaps because of it, she'd had to work extra hard for everything she'd accomplished. Years of serious study, a life of schooling, more years of university, continued studies abroad… Sacrifices. Under a family microscope the whole time. Nothing was ever just about her. Or nearly good enough. Coming to work in the US was as much temporary escape as opportunity.
Chloe and Max seem to have skipped all of that. Just 'arrived' at the destination without all the necessary preparatory work at the beginning, or the dues-paying shite bits of the middle. No climb. Hardly seemed fair. They didn't deserve any of this. Not really. Hadn't been through any sort of meaningful struggle in their young lives.
Yet here they were. Accomplished. Important. Touted as the youngest, fastest self-made billionaires. Grounded. No evidence of the behavioral implosions that often accompanied sudden wealth. High marks for charitable works. Even the Economist had done a few pieces on the implications of some of their clean water and energy designs. She knew from John that they rarely gave interviews. Companies were privately held, and insiders weren't dishing any dirt on them. Nearly all of the stories she'd read were light on details as a result…
Which left plenty of white space for speculation. They'd developed a bit of a cult following online, apparently. Not counting the various ridiculous conspiracy sites she came across when she first cyber-stalked John. She was reasonably sure they weren't Nikola Tesla's grandnieces. Or alien space wizards from the future.
But on the more reasonable, non-tin-foil parts of the net, they were held up as all manner of example by a wide variety of constituencies, without their knowledge or participation. They were young. They were women. They were openly together as a couple. And they behaved as though none of that should matter to anyone at all, including themselves. Shot through the glass ceiling and left the atmosphere entirely, seemingly under their own power.
Didn't seem to be any sign of slowing down, either. Continued entrepreneurial successes in a variety of unrelated fields. Hired the best and brightest minds, contributing to advancements in pure science while showcasing fantastic inventions that seemed fit for an unrealistically optimistic vision of the future. Reputation for focusing on doing good, and not particularly mercenary when it came to money, in spite of their obvious financial success. And notable for breaking nearly every convention for how business should work, along with every expectation or limit placed on them by others. Baffling depth, given their shallow backgrounds.
Their reality far outpaced the limitations that should have been placed on them by their poor history. Or she was missing something. Maybe everyone was?
Or maybe it was more about her than them. A bit of ugly inebriated jealousy.
She was buzzed and overtired, after all.
Sophie was enjoying herself. So many interesting stories and perspectives surrounding her. She was learning a lot. Minds with sophisticated knowledge and appreciation of history, art, literature, music… Perspectives that mirrored some of her own thoughts lately. About belief systems, how societies develop, where they fall.
The songs in their heads alone could keep her entertained for years though. Never-mind the conversations, the debates, the images of artifacts and events and mental reconstructions of entire cultures. And of course, as always, there was anger at a spouse looking at a stranger, worries over taxes, questions about life choices and diet and did he drink too much and all the usual fleeting thoughts people had… Present, but attenuated, as she focused on the more interesting themes.
She was only partially listening to the conversations around her own table.
Max thought to Sophie, Overheard you two talking just now. But how is Tracey really? She seems a little sad...
She's okay. Tired, but happy. Sophie lied through her link. Not in the capital L sort of lie, but in the tiniest sense. People were entitled to their own musings. She couldn't give Tracey privacy, but she could lend discretion. Her thoughts of the moment were drifting toward petty, but mildly so. Harmless. The kind of thoughts everyone has about others from time to time. It wouldn't help anyone for Sophie to share them like rumors. She kept most everyone's confidence - especially when they didn't know they weren't alone in their own heads.
Max laughed with Chloe at something Tyrell said about John, but Sophie didn't catch it. They were full of smiles. John was interrupting her now as well. She nodded, tapped Chloe on her knee under the table. She joined the link without any outward sign. John wanted to talk to you guys privately for a moment.
She actually had to get their attention to connect with their minds now. Chloe's comprehensive bio-alterations had made her progressively harder to read uninvited. Chloe could choose now. Most of the time, anyway. Every once in a while, Sophie caught fragments of Chloe's own distributed network of links. Familiar and utterly alien at the same time. Colder. Vast.
Max, meanwhile, existed in a semi-permanent state of unconscious micro-jumps. Not enough that she or anyone else would notice. Picoseconds forward or back every few seconds. Enough to offset wave sync, break electrical resonance. Made reading her next to impossible. Both were using defensive measures, trained with Sophie's help, among others. But she was slightly annoyed to realize they hadn't been online with her already. They knew she'd always keep them shielded when she was around.
Hey. Thanks Sophie. Guys, sorry to bug, but what's the deal with next Monday? Are we still on, or postponed? John asked.
Chloe responded, Dude - it's less than an hour to 2016, you're here with friends and drinks and a table full of unidentifiable but expensively tiny food - and your gorgeous girlfriend, who seems to still like you, for…reasons I guess - and you're thinking about work stuff? Don't make me make us do shots again, Michaels…
No… God no. Uh. It was up in the air, is all. Trying to figure out if I can safely come back late Sunday night, or if I'll need sleep for Monday.
If you're taking this weekend away with Trace, you should totally come back late on Sunday. We'd postpone for that. thought Max.
Not what I meant…
It's what I meant though. For reals. Max sidetracked, as a shy young girl, maybe 9 years old, came up to her, pulled on her dress and asked quietly for her autograph. She gave the girl a warm smile, asked her name.
Chloe jumped in. Seriously though. Priorities, man. Take the weekend. Do your girlfriend. XD Our thing can wait.
John laughed. Nice emoji. Okay. Thanks Chloe. Just didn't want to leave anyone in a bad place.
I don't emoji.
Max returned. Mentally rolled her eyes at Chloe's rote protestation. Sorry - I…never get used to that. Still weird when they come up. Even weirder when they come to me and not Chloe…
Sophie was confused for a second, then remembered they didn't see any of it themselves. You shouldn't be surprised Max. I see this every day around you. Maybe they don't come up always, but you must have some idea of what you symbolize for people who need that? People have their thoughts about you both. (This sounds like our very first conversation again)…
You think it's weird now? John thought, looking around the room. Can you imagine what it would be like if any of them knew what you could really do? Any of the things we've done for people behind the scenes?
Chloe laughed, No shit - it's hard enough being the resident celebrity billionaire mad scientist humanitarian futurist body-hacker in every room… Throw in time travel and…
Sophie paused for a moment, interjected. If I might be serious for a second? I think this is an important point. I've been thinking it over for a while. Invoking link rules, if you'd indulge a capsule of thought before the new year?
All three nodded, giving Sophie the floor. It would only last a few seconds of real time. She didn't do this often, and tried to be thoughtful when she did. She always brought a different perspective to topics they weren't thinking about. Benefit of listening to the hive. So they always listened, took her seriously. Even if they didn't necessarily agree.
Okay - you two know better than any of us - humanity…is at a crossroads. Survival…base survival…is important first. It's one thing. Are we working just to save numbers though? To advance technological civilization? For what purpose? Lives preserved aren't only in a state of remaining alive - they're participants in a rich weave of memories and intentions, histories and futures. Families. Communities. Societies. Children that would otherwise be orphaned, or never exist at all. Continuity of interconnections, enrichment of others, actions and aspirations and dreams that things will be better for those who come next.
People can be much more when they believe that they matter. When they have a purpose for themselves. When they're less ruled by their fears and insecurities. Love. One positive push ripples out.
'They' know this too. And for the future you experienced to come, 'they' need to push out the opposite. We've seen some evidence already…
Remember that people are the ones who make the future with every breath, each of them. You can try to guide, influence, protect, but ultimately, the future is in their hands, not yours. I see horrible thoughts around me every day. But I see much more beauty. Potential. What they wish for, quietly, to themselves. You don't see them as I do.
And if I can be honest, you all underestimate them. In the same way you underestimate yourselves. Saving people is worthwhile by itself, of course. Inspiring them begins to move beyond that. So does giving them reason to hope at any scale. And I think that might be what you're starting to feel from some of them, like that girl just now. A sort of gratitude in a way. You think you don't deserve it because the job you set for yourselves isn't finished. You think it's gratitude for an invention or act of charity or helping people in general. But I see it in them. It's much more personal and basic. It's gratitude for thinking enough of them to simply care at all. For believing that they're worth helping. For maybe taking away a little bit of their fear.
But you're still an enigma to nearly everyone who's not an unaffiliated talent or an employee. Both of you. You keep distant. You express yourselves through your public actions though companies, but keep who and what you are separated, hidden away. Not just your capabilities, but your personalities. Chemistry. Yes, Chloe and her tech were out in the last loop as a natural development of inventing them over time, and she's on track to be public with that here at a faster pace - but your abilities were still hidden from most, Max.
You think it's the more humble path. You also think you're protecting yourselves, but your enemies already know who you are. You think you're protecting society, but you know they're in far greater trouble without you. You think you're protecting talents, but you're already literally protecting talents, and now their families. You want to change everything so everything stays the same. Look, it's a path, but it's maybe not the most effective path.
You know I understand minds. There's a limit to how much people can relate to you, kept apart like this. Which in turn limits those personal connections they might develop or feel. The ones that matter, for them. Which will keep our collective efforts to more of a numbers game, and less of what it should really be.
You still believe this is a fight about your powers and knowledge versus their dark forces and events in time. Along with infrastructure, utility, economics, direct aid, and preventive force. You're partially right. But power comes in many forms. And knowledge isn't everything.
You joke between you that you have the powers of gods. But the real powers of gods, the best ones anyway, have always been small scale. Indirect. Manifested in people's hearts, in moments of question or need. In moments of ethical quandary. Or when all hope is lost, and they find it impossible to stand on their own anymore. Faith that someone is with them. That they're not truly alone.
Max, in my opinion, in more than five hundred years, the single most powerful thing you've ever done was talking your friend Kate off of a rooftop. As barely more than a child. No powers. No tricks. Just…pure love. You reached out to her at a moment when she needed someone most, and showed her friendship and belief and hope. That was it. And it was enough. You saved her life, but you also helped her propel her own life forward, with greater meaning. And look where she is now. How many people she's doing the same for every day. And how many of them will go on to be there for others? One kind act ripples.
Chaotic good… That's you guys.
Look, knowing that you have these mind-bending capabilities will create fear among some in the general public, at least for a while. 'They' will try to exploit that if they can. It would complicate all of our lives and invite a new kind of scrutiny, maybe shake the bad-guy rug a bit - but you know there's nothing on earth that can really hurt you now. You can outlast any of that. Or ignore it.
People might be afraid when they learn you exist. But what if people also knew for certain that nuclear war could never, ever happen on earth? If they knew that governments, the UN, global relief organizations now have lists of every natural disaster for the next few hundred years? All because of you two?
I think to know the truth about what you've done, what your existence promises for all of us, would remove a great deal of the daily existential fear from so many more people. Sharing who you are and what you dream for all of us would let each person feel that someone really is on their side, looking out for them. That tomorrow might be brighter. Believe that they might matter in those moments when they need it most.
I'm not saying that you should try to act like gods, or underpants superheroes. You're already both in your actions, if you admit it or not. I'm suggesting you consider simply being open about it. And once they know you like we do, I think it will help.
It worked with your employees. They believe hard. And together, you're not just bringing hope. You're bringing reality. Not promises. Actions. Change. And so soon. A real force of what, a few tens of thousands of people working on the hardest problems?
And openness also worked with the unaffiliated talents. A few thousand worldwide, most of them wanted you both dead in the beginning. We've had these conversations. We've been transparent with them every step of the way - at your request. And the talents, they've all watched you closely. You stood up to 'them'. No one has done that and lived. Not only did you walk away whole, you did so decisively, came out stronger, and you've taken on a whole new counter-purpose since. I mean, you're literally trying to save the world. Their world. For them. Not asking a thing in return.
And then, even after all the threats made against you by the majority, you opened your arms, your city, your protection to talents everywhere. And their families. I mean, my god, I don't think you really appreciate this yet Max. You and Chloe, what you've done - what you're doing - you guys are fucking legend. They don't just accept you now. They look up to you. Love you, even. You behave in a way that honors their trust. And as a result, you have a small but loyal army of weird standing right behind you. And you don't even realize it.
With talents and your own staff, your goals are their goals now. They know the consequences of inaction. They'll help however they can, because the vision is out in the open with all them, and it's obviously right and just and good. And together, even with that small number of people, we have a chance to change the fate of the world. You've done this. With just the truth. You helped them find a reason to find the inner-hero inside them.
Now imagine that kind of magnetic alignment on a global scale.
You ended up there in the last timeline, but with a much smaller population, and only after centuries of devastating global tragedies. Not everyone will jump aboard. But if even one percent of the world's population feels something because of this, you will have gone from thirty thousand to what, seventy million? And I bet that percentage would be a magnitude higher.
Max, Chloe - if you take a chance…trust them enough to let them know you as we do, it might help people everywhere find their own calls to action. Another kind of role model. And at the very least, a mass scale reduction of the fear that drives so much that we're trying to stop. Give them a reason to seek more inside themselves. Something to live up to. A reason to want to become better people - and the faith to believe that they could. I think that's the part that will be so amazing. For them to also see who they could be. What they might achieve. Without fear. Without limits.
It would open a new front in this war for the future. Maybe the only one that matters, long term. Are you trying to simply preserve billions of people for the next three hundred years? Or do you want to help them become their most amazing, best selves too? Help catalyze a societal self-actualization that shapes the next hundred thousand years, or beyond?
It always comes back to chaos with you two. But…your real power might not be your ability to fight bad things across time. It might lie in helping everyone else to find their own butterfly wings. It's a real force multiplier. Once people see the impossible, they're more likely to find the courage to achieve things they once thought were impossible.
I…believe this with all my heart - if you do this right, you won't have to save anyone at all. They'll do it themselves.
I just…it's been in my mind lately and I wanted to share all of that. I'm sorry if it was too much or disorganized.
Max, Chloe and John had all gone quiet. She knew it was a lot to take in, and they'd have to take time to process everything. It had only been a few seconds, after all. Tyrell and Tracey both noticed the air go out of the table though. Sophie gave them all a short mental kick to bring them back to the present.
Um, thanks Sophie. As always. It's similar to something I've been thinking about as well, but more from a mechanical standpoint. Chloe thought.
Max was less comfortable with the negative implications or potential fallout, and had already decided once not to go public with her abilities. Years ago in Los Angeles. Without doing so, the warnings about the future wouldn't be credible. But Sophie knew things could change. Max was more her younger self then. And it would come back in future discussions among them, so she didn't push. Wouldn't ever push.
Max turned to John. And to wrap on our earlier conversation quickly, take your time Sunday. We're cool. Now kiss her, you idiot. Distract her. Quick!
Chloe leaned in and gave Max a kiss on the cheek.
Wrong idiot. Also, my lips are on the front of my head.
John leaned in to give Tracey a quick kiss.
One of the roaming photographers snapped them with a flash.
"Can it be time for pictures?" Tracey asked in an overly enthusiastic attempt to liven the group up.
Chloe was one step up from Max, on a level with John and Tyrell. Tallest in the back. Tracey and Sophie were in front with Max. Laughing. Making faces. After a quick count, the photographer snapped three pictures.
Tracey cleared the stairs, took one with John. Then scooted Max & Chloe up for a shot together. The little girl who asked for Max's autograph earlier came back and asked if she could be in a picture with Max and Chloe. They sat down on the steps, with her sandwiched between them. She beamed with happiness as the photographer clicked away.
After taking solo shots with Sophie and Max, Tracey grabbed Chloe and pulled her up half a flight of stairs. Chloe on the left, Tracey on her right. It was fifteen minutes to midnight. Last picture.
The photographer took the shot.
Chloe saw the change in his expression before he started to fall. He just…went blank. She heard the crack from the doorway a fraction of a second later. Then a second. She could feel Tracey buckle, start to fall back. Saw the blood from her lower leg out of the corner of her eye.
Sophie yelled a verbal warning, too late. They should have stayed in the link. Fuck. We knew this was coming too. Might be a rewind coming up in a sec.
A third crack. Glass chips flew behind her. Or…not.
The front entrance. A man in a grey hoodie, AK variant.
Two other men running in behind him.
High capacity dual-drum magazines.
Body armor under the hoodies.
Looking more like bangers than professional anythings…
People near the entrance dropped, scattered, taking cover. Others further inside were less reactive. Probably assumed they were early fireworks. They couldn't see the men by the door.
As they ran in, one of the men called out Chloe's name to the others.
John was halfway to turning. She pushed.
All three fired at her.
John heard the first shot, then the second.
Looked to the door, identified the targets.
Noticed the bulk of plates beneath.
Like Tyrell, his sidearm was already out of its holster.
Headshots then.
He felt Sophie's link, saw Tracey falling behind him through Sophie's eyes.
Change of plans.
As he turned to run toward her, he heard Max's inner voice telling them not to fire on the men.
Felt himself lifted and thrown sideways.
Max was focused on the three gunmen. Intent on disarming and disabling them without causing them harm. Back to the note they'd gotten earlier. And doing so while minimizing any danger to others in the room. Hopefully without being noticed or creating a full blown magic show for the TV news cameras. She knew they were idle for a few more minutes upstairs, but any good cameraperson would be picking one up with the first loud bang. Complicated indeed.
She was willing to let this attack spool out at least once so she could see the patterns of movement, pick out the best approach solving the problem before rewinding. She saw Tracey go down through Sophie's link. Felt John turn.
Tyrell stood down, trusting her, moved instead to shield Sophie with his body.
She heard Chloe's voice accelerated in time in her head. Too many live cameras. Sit tight. I've got this one, Max. Chloe dropped to one knee, left forearm parallel to the glass steps, placing herself between a folded Tracey and the gunmen. She'd already given John a hard telekinetic push sideways, away from the stairs and the line of likely fire. She turned her head toward them. Max knew Chloe was already running face recognition at HQ, and probably tracing their movements backward over the past week…
All three of the men let loose, weapon muzzles erupting in fire.
At least they're aiming for Chloe. Oh. And…Tracey. And everyone behind them and the stairs. Aw, man…
Before the first of the bullets could reach her, the length of Chloe's left arm exploded into blinding light, throwing the entire atrium into flickering brilliance and harsh shadows. The plasma barrier extended outward from her holo-projection like an angry shield. Magnetically shaped, intensely hot, molecules thick. A crackling, menacing electric hum as the mass and kinetic energy of the bullets converted directly to heat and strobing light.
To Max, it was like looking at the sun.
Squinting, the men kept firing, moving forward slowly toward the steps. Glass above and below Chloe chipped and shattered with the wild shots. Max could barely hear the screams of the panicking crowd over the thunder of the rifles and harsh energetic crackle of Chloe's barrier.
Max thought calmly to herself, I could just freeze them outside, before they come in. Grab Sophie and Chloe and see what we can learn…
She caught the blur - the little girl in the yellow dress who asked for Max's autograph earlier. She was running out into the wall of bullets! Shit.
Max could undo it, but didn't have the heart to watch it happen. She went to throw the world into a hard freeze.
Wait Max! Don't! Sophie's inner voice.
The little girl - Alena was her name, Max remembered - came to a halt between Chloe and the men, facing them. She didn't threaten or move. Her face was somewhere between sadness and worry. But she stood firm. They stopped firing almost immediately. Max noticed the man with the news camera on the balcony above, red dot over his lens, capturing everything.
A dozen hummingbird drones screamed in through the front door, slamming into the three men at supersonic velocities, knocking them forward while releasing sixty thousand volts each.
The shooters collapsed, shaking violently.
Max ran to Alena, but she'd already turned away, kneeled down on the ground in front of the stairs. Next to the photographer who'd taken the first bullet. He was face down. Unmoving. She shook him, broke into tears. Oh. Thought Max. Ohhh… She went to her knees next to Alena, put her arm around her.
John was up the stairs to Tracey's side, dress shoes slipping on the blood and glass. He was trying to stop the bleeding, assess her wound. She was obviously in intense pain.
A dozen more tiny drones raced in low through the front door, leveled out, spread, circled the atrium. Max knew Chloe would be using them to look for other shooters, any devices, scan for the injured, taking vitals. Building a triage map.
Chloe's voice. Above her. "Twenty-three injured. One fatality."
Max, through the link, "I need to go. Undo this. Chloe, who are they? Did you see which way they came from?"
Sophie's voice in her head. Softly. "Max. Wait."
Alena looked up to Chloe, through tears. "Can you lift the bullet parts out of my dad?"
Chloe dropped to her knees on the opposite side. "Sweetie, I'm not sure if it would help."
"Please?" wiping her eyes, "There's not much time."
Chloe nodded, head down. After a moment, twisted shards of metal forced their way past the edges of the hole in the middle of his jacket, the last snagging on cloth, tenting it before breaking free. They hung in the air, ugly, sharp, then dropped into Chloe's hand.
"Help me take his jacket off?"
Max could hear sirens in the distance. Not enough of them. The music had stopped, the room was quiet, save for the moaning of the injured. Nearly everyone had mobile phones out. Some documenting the scene, others calling for help.
Max and Chloe lifted the man's arms and pulled his jacket from his body. His white shirt had surprisingly little blood. He'd fallen so quickly.
Alena pulled the bottom of the shirt out of his waistband, dragged it up toward his head.
Max could see the wound now. Middle of his back. Just to the left side of his spine. One of the bullet fragments probably ripped right into his heart. Her own was breaking for Alena. She couldn't find a way to save William. But this was their fault. She'd be damned if she was going to let another girl grow up without her father. She'd make this right again.
Alena laid her hands on each side of the wound. Said a small, quiet prayer. Pushed the wound closed. Slowly, the puncture began to knit back together.
Healer. Max nodded, let out a sigh of relief. Now she understood.
Alena kept focus. Most of the damage would be inside.
After a minute she stopped. Sadness on the verge of panic in her voice. "His heart…it's…not beating right…I can't…"
"Here, move back." said Chloe gently.
Max took hold of Alena as Chloe rolled her dad toward her, onto his back.
Chloe lifted his neck, tilted his head back to clear the airway, placed her left hand over his chest.
Max could still smell the changes in the air from Chloe's barrier. Like after a lightning storm.
Chloe's fingers and thumb formed a bridge over his heart. She closed her eyes. Placed her palm flat on his chest. After a moment, she smiled at Alena, nodded. "It's okay. His heart cells just needed to be reminded how to work together."
Alena felt his chest as well. Happy tears. She didn't have the words, but they all understood. She placed her hands over his heart, finished what she'd started.
Max asked. "Alena, is there anything you can do to help any of the other hurt people here? It's okay if you're too tired. I'm…not sure how that works for you."
She nodded, smiling, wiping tears away. She placed her father's jacket under his head as a pillow, pulled his shirt back down, gave him a quick hug and kiss. "Who needs help the most?" she asked Chloe.
"I'll take you."
"Good, cause I'll need your help, like before."
