After an interminable second he regained some of his wits and then made a slicing gesture across his neck signalling to the pilot to cut the engine. As the roar faded, Murdoch accepted the call and brought a shaky hand up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Been busy have we?" It had been a very long time since he last heard her voice and hearing it again made tears spring to his eyes unbidden. He turned away from the pilot's line of sight and was rewarded with a clear view of the pristine lakefront. Not that he noticed such a thing.

"Very," he said, voice choked with emotion, feeling a great urge to sit down but having nowhere to do so except for the dirty ground.

There was a pause. "Are you, okay, Will?"

Murdoch cleared his throat. "Yes...mother, I am quite fine."

Another pause. "Well, we haven't heard from you in a few days and I was starting to worry."

We?

"I apologize. That was never my intent."

"Apology accepted. Now, I'm assuming you would like an update." He didn't respond right away so she continued, "Don't worry. It's good news." Murdoch could practically hear the smile on his mother's face and unconsciously mimicked her. "She's responded even better to the second round of treatment. The doctor's are finally optimistic that we're going to beat this thing. So am I for that matter. And it's all thanks to you, Will. Without you, this could have never happened."

"It was no trouble."

Mary laughed and he broke out into a beaming smile. The sound was so rare growing up, he had forgotten it existed. "Always so modest! We both know you had to pull some serious strings to get your sister into this trial."

Susannah was alive too?

The pain of her passing was still very fresh. To have a second chance with her- with both of them- was overwhelming. His legs could no longer support him so he sat down right there on the helipad in his ten thousand dollar suit.

"Is she with you right now?"

"Susie's still asleep. As you well know, she didn't inherit my propensity for catching the worm. But I admit, even for me, it's ridiculously early."

Murdoch was confused. He knew it was after eight o'clock. Was that considered extremely early in this time? Judging by Julia's reaction the other day, he didn't think so. Therefore he concluded that his mother and sister were not currently in Toronto. His heart dropped.

"Yes, I suppose it would be."

The topic was swiftly switched. "So, about Julia...have you told her yet?"

Told her? Surely my mother doesn't know...how could she? "I've been rather busy."

"So I've heard." An exasperated sigh. "Honey, you can't keep beating yourself up about this. It wasn't your fault. That woman was clearly unbalanced. Drugging you like that? Thank God nothing worse happened. Thank God for George. You're very lucky to have him in your life."

"Indeed."

A somewhat lengthy silence. "You're sure you're okay, Will? You're being quieter than usual."

"Just wanted to listen to your voice," he replied truthfully. "It's very soothing."

"Yes, I've been told I would have made a great radio jockey." Mary laughed again and even though he didn't know what she meant, he laughed right along with her.


Unable to think about anything else, Murdoch immediately commenced proceedings to locate his mother and sister. The task was easier than he would have expected.

"Take me to Susannah," he ordered the helicopter pilot after reluctantly ending the call. Murdoch had a feeling he could have listened to his mother speak forever.

The jovial looking man, Morris, cocked his head sideways, looking rather confused. "Your sister, sir? Isn't that a bit out of my jurisdiction?"

Impatiently, Murdoch waved him off. "Yes, yes, but take me there all the same."

"Sir, I really don't see how I can." He patted the console in front of him. "Good ol' Betty is more reliable than any woman, but even she would have a hard time making it all the way to Vancouver."

"Right," he said distractedly. Then he remembered the larger flying machine from his first night in this strange land. Unfortunately he didn't know what it was called. Thankfully he was saved from having to make a fool of himself by playing charades to get his desire across.

"Would you like to go to the airport then?"

He nodded once. "Straight away."

"I'll call them now. With any luck they'll be ready to go by the time we get there."

"That would be most appreciated. Thank you."

Morris spoke into his headset briefly and then fired up the engine. Within ten minutes they were descending onto a large expanse of tarmac, close to a grey hangar. The hangar was open, and inside Murdoch could see a few men, and one woman, running around a sleek, black craft, checking the tires and whatnot.

"Safe travels, sir," called Morris over the roar of the engine.

The second they touched down, Murdoch hopped out and rushed towards the aircraft. A stately man in a somewhat militaristic uniform approached and shook his hand.

"Where to, Mr. Murdoch?"

"Vancouver. I need to see my sister."

The man's congenial smile faltered slightly. "It would be my pleasure to take you there." They were now by the stairs that granted entrance into the craft. "Any bags, sir?"

"No, I'm afraid the thought never crossed my mind."

"Not a problem, sir, we have all necessities on board." He gestured to the stairs. "Shall we?"

Murdoch didn't need to be told twice and bounded up them, closely followed by the person he assumed was the pilot, and indeed the man went to the front of the craft and a short while later the ground beneath him began to vibrate slightly. While he waited for them to take off, the curious part of his mind took over and he examined the cabin before him. It was about ten feet across and contained six extremely comfortable looking seats. The windows lining either side reminded him of the windows in his office, circular and little bigger than his head. There was a plainly furnished water closet at the end of the corridor and beyond that a small compartment for preparing food and drink. A crisply clothed woman was back here and she smiled as he entered.

"Oh, I was just about to come out but it seems you beat me to it. Would you care for something to eat, sir?"

"No, thank you," he replied. "I've eaten much deep fried deliciousness today." Having no idea how long it would take to get to Vancouver he added, "Perhaps later?"

"Of course, sir."

Back in the main room, he took a high backed leather seat and immediately relaxed into it. A moment later the pilot spoke through some hidden speakers and they smoothly edged out of the hangar. Before he knew it they were up in the air again, and he watched with rapt fascination as the landscape blurred and everything became miniaturized. They were definitely moving much faster than the helicopter could, yet it was far less noisy and turbulent.

The aerodynamics of this craft must be exceptional.

Murdoch spent some time viewing out his window, but once they went above the clouds, he became restless and fidgeted in his seat. That is when he noticed a gleam of something in the chair across from him. He reached over and picked up a pair of odd looking glasses. Over top the right eyepiece was a smaller translucent square. Murdoch put the glasses on but nothing happened, they simply functioned as they were supposed to. However, further investigation revealed a button on the side of the frame. He pushed it. Instantly an indecipherable image sprung into life on the square, but when he put the glasses back on, it took over his entire right eye's field of view and he was able to make it out. The image was some sort of menu, with a variety of options on it. To the side of this list was the time in various different places and the expected weather. Apparently it was raining in Vancouver.

Focusing back on the menu, the photos section grabbed his attention. Unfortunately he had no idea how to access them. There was no interface with which to do so. He tapped the side of the glasses and the device simply turned off. Murdoch turned it on again and then tried blinking at the desired object. Nothing happened. Frustrated he muttered, "There must be some way to access the photographs-"

The second he said the word the screen changed and was replaced by many labelled folders. Catching on, he asked it to open the most recent one called Australia, June 2013. A photograph of him and Julia sprung to his mind's eye. They were holding hands standing outside of a large dome like structure at sunset. The design was quite striking, with pointed edges sticking out in several directions and lights emanating from within. He wasn't surprised that several others in the background seemed to be enjoying its majesty. Below the picture it said Sydney Opera House. For some reason knowing that opera still existed, eased his mind. He didn't much care for it himself but it was a link of sorts back to his past, back to a particularly fine evening out with Julia...

His phone vibrated into life, startling him out of his reverie. The caller I.D. said Anna, but he didn't much feel like talking to anyone right then so he turned his phone off, feeling vaguely guilty as he did so.

Once he had his fill of the picture, it took him several tries to locate the necessary word for accessing the next one. Ironically it was simply, 'next'. Pretty much all of the 'colour' photos were of him and Julia, or just Julia herself in a variety of landscapes and poses. Most of the time they were smiling or kissing but occasionally she was giving him the stink eye. There was one picture that featured two large kangaroos made out of some sort of painted wood. The animals heads were cut out and replaced with their own. The silly faces they were making made him laugh.

Going back to the folders archive, he accessed the very first one, labelled, Toronto, 1976-79. Quickly he did the math in his head to determine that future William would have been one to three years old during this time frame. And indeed, the whole folder was filled with pictures of his birth and toddler years, learning to crawl and then walk. Mostly he was with his mother, (she looked so different to how he knew her that he almost didn't recognize her at first) but occasionally his father would make an appearance...usually with a drink in his hand. Murdoch frowned at that and moved on to the next folder, 1980-1985.

Here he had his first glimpse of his baby sister and the sight brought a tear to his eye, distorting the crystal clear image. In one picture he was holding her hand, helping her learn to walk. He had held her hand during her painful passing, (to the chagrin of the nuns who had tried to keep him away because of some antiquated belief in purity) vividly reminded of Liza's end. To see her again, so full of energy, just starting out in the world was incredibly beautiful...but difficult. The fact that he was heading to her sick bed again didn't help matters. But he was doing his best to be optimistic like his mother and prayed Susannah would pull through this time. Everything in this time was far advanced to anything he could have imagined, the medical technology must also be exceptional. It had to be, he couldn't bear to watch her die all over again.

Murdoch spent the next few hours going through all of the folders. By the end of it, he was beginning to feel like he had lived this life himself, and almost half remembered going 'paragliding' across a vast valley, or 'skydiving' or swimming with the sharks.

Afterwards he turned off the glass and closed his eyes briefly. When they were rested somewhat, he peaked out the window to see they were still flying high above the clouds. Murdoch stood up and stretched his back and neck and was surprised they weren't sorer than they were considering his almost immobile state for three straight hours. The seat truly was magnificent. He patted the headrest appreciatively and then headed towards the cockpit.

A knock later and the pilot granted him access. The man pushed a glowing button and turned around in his seat. For a second Murdoch feared they would suddenly nose dive, but their course seemed completely unaffected.

"When will we be arriving?"

Murdoch eyed the convoluted console with intense interest. It was similar to the helicopter's but even more complex.

"We're a little over half way, sir. Should be there by mid afternoon, baring no emergency landings. I think we have enough parachutes."

His head snapped up. "That was a joke, sir."

"Yes, of course."

The pilot gestured to the empty seat beside him. "Sir, would you like to take over for awhile?"

"Me?" he said, taken aback.

The pilot gave him a puzzled look. "You don't normally come in here for any other reason." He folded his hands in his lap. "Was there something else I could help you with?"

"Well, I...no, I don't believe so. Carry on..." He let his words trail off because he still didn't know the man's name.

With nothing else to do, and considering it was around noon, he had his female attendant prepare his lunch. It was a sandwich with the most delicious meats and toppings he had ever tasted. The bread was exquisite as well. Murdoch washed it down with some bubbling water, which he initially choked on, startling the attendant badly.

A couple hours later, (in which he fiddled around with his Google glass, reading some select entry's of his digital journal to learn more about his sister's disease and this William's life in general) they touched down in Vancouver, and within minutes was in a limousine heading towards his family.