Chapter 2

As Sam made his way down the road, having left the morning rush of family life behind, he began to wonder how he was going to cope with a working day on an unknown farm. Sure, he knew all about farming, but this wasn't his dad's farm. There would be different routines, a different layout and different people. He wasn't sure where he would start.

After just over fifteen minutes, his attention was drawn to a big, old, timber house, set well back from the road with a huge beech tree in the front garden. A wooden plaque reading 'Beeches Farm' was propped against a rock beneath the tree. Al was right; you couldn't miss it. As he began the walk along the long drive to the farm, he heard the Imaging Chamber door open again and Al fell into step beside him.

"Hi, Al. Come to help me on the farm?" he added facetiously, giving Al a quick glance out of the corner of his eye.

"Very funny, Sam. I'm leaving that aspect of this leap completely in your capable hands. I've just been researching Sandy's family and there're some things you need to know."

"Can you tell me their names? I hate not knowing."

"Uh, OK." Al pressed several buttons on the handlink and scanned the results. "Here it is. The dad is George Thomas. He's about seventy, so he should be easy to spot. Then Sandy has an older brother, Joseph, and a younger sister, Elizabeth. She's married to David who works on the farm with you and George." Al paused and shook the handlink. "Oh, blink and you'll miss him – I think Elizabeth's about to go into labor."

"What about Joseph?"

"He's one of the reasons I'm here. He's mentally disabled – quite severely. You'll probably see him around, but he can't do much on the farm. And Ziggy says he dies tomorrow."

"What? Al, that's terrible. Am I here for him too?"

"Possibly. Ziggy seems to think if you can stop him dying, that might increase Sandy's chances of staying with Will for longer."

"How did he die?"

"Records suggest it was an accident. He suffered a head injury. He was in one of the sheds and no one was with him. It seems he fell and hit his head. Will found him."

"Tomorrow? So maybe I can keep an eye on him and stop it happening."

"Maybe, if you don't leap before then. But don't lose sight of the other issue, Sam."

"As if I could. Al, you said Joseph is one of the reasons you're here. What's the other one?"

"Oh, er, Sandy's mother, Rose died a couple of months back. I'm guessing they're still pretty raw from the loss, so tread carefully."

"Right. Thanks for the warning. I've got to get to work, Al. Any idea where I should start?"

"Not the slightest clue. You're the farm boy. Try starting where you would start at home."

"That would be milking, I guess. But I'm a bit late. Maybe I'll wait for someone to tell me what to do."

"You can do better than that. Just throw yourself in. See you later."

"Bye, Al." He watched the hologram vanish on the spot and made his way to the nearest barn.

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As Sam approached the barn he was feeling a bit apprehensive. The mixed sounds of mooing and machinery emanating from the building told him he was about to enter the milking parlor. He entered through an open door and gazed across a sea of Holsteins, some being milked and others waiting. He didn't immediately notice David, who was in the process of unhooking a group of five cows, one by one, from their respective milkers on one side of the parlor. As he unhooked the last of the five and came to open the gate that had been penning them in, he came into view and at once, Sam didn't feel so alone.

He waved as David looked up and saw him. As the five cows filed out, following their noses back to their meadow, Sam came over to David.

"Hi."

"Hey, Will. Man, you're late. I thought you weren't coming."

"Sorry. Sandy wasn't feeling so good this morning and I had to stay and chase Greg out of bed."

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, she was just a little sick. She'll be OK."

"You want to let the other girls go while I hook up the last four?" David gestured to the five cows on the other side of the parlor that were still waiting to be released.

"Right." Sam got to work, relieved that he knew what he was doing. Having released the cows, he set to work cleaning his side of the dairy in the way that was familiar to him, and hoped he wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary for Will.

When David had dealt with the last four cows, he leaned over one of the gates and called to Sam.

"Hey. Can I leave you to finish up here while I sort out the birds?"

"Sure."

"Thanks. Are you still OK to drive across to Bob's place with the calves this afternoon?"

"What?" Sam's mind was immediately flooded with new concerns.

David continued oblivious. "Did you forget? I'd do it myself, but Lizzie could have the baby any time, so I don't really want to put myself too far from home. Will Sandy be OK if you're back late?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. I should check with her."

"OK. I guess Dad could take them, if it's a problem."

"I'll speak to her at lunchtime."

"OK. You going to try get that little calf to learn to drink before you take it? I had a go with it last night, but it's still not getting it."

"Calf?" Sam's expression must have had an element of vacancy that amused David.

"You're really not with me this morning, are you?"

Sam tried to recover quickly. "The calf, right. Where is it?"

"In the pen where we left it yesterday, I hope." David gave him a strange look and walked out of the barn, leaving Sam to stew. He carried on cleaning, probably being more meticulous than he would have been, had he not been delaying leaving the now familiar parlor for unknown territory. He was unaware of the moment when Al silently appeared, hovering in mid-air above one of the milking pens. As Sam finished up, Al decided he was bored with waiting to be noticed and suddenly spoke.

"Procrastinating, Sam?" Sam turned sharply and almost lost his balance as his foot slipped into a drainage gully. "Don't tell me you always clean that thoroughly."

"Al! Don't do that! What are you doing up there?"

"I don't want to step in anything."

"You're a hologram! And anyway, if I clean so thoroughly, there should be nothing to step in," Sam retorted.

Al grinned at him and lowered his image to the ground. "I had a look round the farm while you were busy. There're cows, pigs and poultry. Like on your dad's farm. Looks like the pigs are George's forte though. I watched him for a while. He has names for them."

"I'm supposed to be driving somewhere with the calves this afternoon, Al. Should I go? Did Will go?"

Al pressed some buttons on the handlink, read the information, pressed a few more buttons and kept reading. After a while, he looked up. I can't find any record of it, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen. The authorities don't spy on every movement of everyone's lives, Sam. At least in the 1960s they didn't ... I'm not so sure about now." He glanced up at Sam with a conspiratorial look. "If it's not on record somewhere, Ziggy doesn't know about it."

"I guess I'll just ask Sandy what she wants me to do."

"OK."

"Al, I have to feed a calf. Where can I find it?"

"Oh, I'm a human map. Follow me."

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Al led Sam to a smaller outbuilding where there were about twenty pens, each containing a calf.

"This is the calf shed, Sam. But I can't tell you which calf to feed."

"Probably, all of them. And that should make it clear which one can't feed itself." Sam glanced around the barn, locating the milk substitute feed. He grinned at Al, feeling quite proud that for once he wasn't at all out of his depth. "Watch and learn!"

He prepared the milk substitute and set about pouring it into buckets for each of the calves. There was a smaller calf in an end pen, which Sam already suspected was the one that would need help. He wasn't wrong. While the other calves were ravenously consuming their meal, this one little calf seemed bewildered.

With Al watching intrigued, Sam climbed into the pen with the little calf and brought the feed bucket closer. Then completely at ease, he slid two of his fingers into its mouth and let it suck. He slowly lowered his hand – with the calf still attached – into the feed bucket, until the calf was sucking at the feed as well as Sam's fingers.

"Aww, that's real cute, Sam."

Sam smiled at him and tried to withdraw his fingers from the bucket, but the calf's muzzle went with him.

"That wasn't meant to happen, right?" Al questioned, seeing the disappointed look on Sam's face.

"It hasn't figured out where the food's coming from yet."

"What're you going to do?"

"Keep trying. I'd rather not take it to some guy I don't know until I see it can feed itself – not when the others are all feeding fine. It might not get noticed."

"I wonder why George is getting rid of the calves," Al said, casting his eyes round the shed.

"Well, I'm not sure how many I'm meant to be taking, but my guess would be that George keeps cows for dairy products, not meat. So he doesn't need the boy calves. They'll go somewhere else to be raised for meat. And if he doesn't want new stock, the girl calves will be sold to people who do want them."

"Not a very bright future for the boy calves. What's this one?"

"Uh … he's a boy."

Al grimaced and looked into the calf's huge brown eyes. "Sorry, buddy."

The calf shed door suddenly swung open and David peered round the doorway. "Will, are you in here?" he called. Sam got up and leaned out of the pen so David could see him. "Oh, there you are," he continued. "I just had a call. Lizzie's having the baby so I've got to go. Uh, chickens are out and fed; apart from that it's all down to you and Dad." He stopped and grinned. "I might be gone a while."

"Take all the time you need."

"You look calm," Al commented, noticing David's laid back attitude to the forthcoming event.

Sam echoed Al's statement and David shrugged. "Happens all the time on the farm, doesn't it?" He hesitated, then added, "And this is even easier – for me at least. I just sit there. Lizzie and the doctor do all the hard work, right?"

Sam chuckled. "Right. Call when you have news."

"Will do."

David ambled out of the shed as though he was just off to lunch, and Sam laughed again and turned to Al. "That guy is so relaxed. I bet nothing fazes him. He should be a leaper."

"Wishing you could trade jobs?"

"Yeah, kind of."

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Sam persevered for another twenty minutes with the calf before it suddenly grasped the concept of drinking from a bucket and he was able to move on to other tasks. Al had lost interest after about five minutes and had retreated back to the project to see if he could learn anything useful from the real Will.

Sam was collecting eggs from the chicken houses when he noticed a small man hovering at the perimeter fence to the chicken pen.

"Hi Joseph," Sam called, correctly guessing the man to be Sandy's brother.

Joseph stared at him without recognition and it suddenly dawned on Sam that Joseph could probably see him as himself and would have no idea who he was. Sam was wondering how to tackle this problem, when Joseph turned and sauntered off without a word.

After collecting the eggs, Sam was wondering where to take them, when he noticed George approaching, being led by the hand by Joseph who was obviously concerned enough about the stranger's presence to seek reassurance. George, of course, perceived his son's agitation, but was unconscious to its cause.

He welcomed Sam cheerily. "Morning, Will."

"Hi, George."

"George?" George looked at him quizzically. "When did we get so formal? I thought I was Dad."

Disconcerted, Sam looked down and scraped at the dusty ground with his boot toe. "Dad. Sorry."

George continued. "David said you seemed out of kilter today. You're not catching what Sandy's got are you? I need you in shape to drive those calves to Bob this afternoon. I spoke to him earlier. He's all ready for you and I said I'd loan you to him for a few hours to fix up some fencing. One of his men broke a leg last week and he could do with the help."

"I don't know. I'm a bit worried about leaving Sandy."

"She's not that sick, is she?"

"No …" Sam hesitated, unsure what to say. "I just think I should check with her first."

"Well, all right. I could go myself, but I won't be as useful as you. I don't like to let the man down – you know he's a good friend."

Sam squirmed at the disappointment in George's tone and hurried to make amends. "I'll see what I can do, Dad."

"Good man. Well, time's-a-wasting. Joe brought me down here – seems something upset him – I'm not sure what." He turned to Joe, who had released his hand. "Joe, would you take the eggs to the kitchen for me?" He looked back to Sam. "I've got some repair jobs you can help me with until lunchtime." He turned again to Joe, who hadn't budged. "Joe, take the eggs from Will."

Sam held the basket of eggs out to Joe, who turned to his father blankly.

"What's the matter, Joe?" Joe was unable to answer, but stared at Sam strangely.

Sam gently placed the basket in Joe's hands. "Here, Joe. Thank you."

"Take them to the house, Joe," George coaxed and Joe started to back away, still looking at Sam.

"See you later, Joe." Sam called, trying to settle him with friendliness. Joe gave him a final stare, before he turned and aimed for the house.

"Seems you're not the only one acting oddly today," George said, clapping a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Let's get you started."

Sam threw himself into repairing the roof and side of one of the barns from where a falling branch had damaged it in a storm. He barely noticed the rest of the morning slip away, and was quite surprised when George called him to stop for lunch.

"Shouldn't we finish?" Sam questioned.

"I'll finish off this afternoon. I want you to get an early start on the road – it's a long drive. You having lunch here?"

"Uh, no, I'm going home to see Sandy."

"Right, well, give me a call if she says you can't drive the calves. Otherwise, I'll see you back here at about one?"

"OK."

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