If this, then that...
Wheels within wheels, loops within loops, time winding back and around on itself.
The recursive possibilities were endless.
Zane stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, thinking hard. Pieces were still missing. The paper, that was useful, but not nearly enough. He needed so much more. Why hadn't S.A.R.A.H. just told him what he needed to know?
Oh, of course.
She was avoiding creating a paradox. If his now-self didn't come up with the answer, then the answer would never exist, and never have existed.
"Caiti, did S.A.R.A.H. help you design your invisibility worm?" Zane asked. His grin felt like it might split his face in two. Little Caiti was still admiring her letter to her grandmother, but Big Caiti was watching him suspiciously.
"Sorta, yeah. She taught me lots of stuff about programming when I was littler. We used to play conditional statement games. They were really fun."
"And branch predication? Did she teach you that, too?"
"Uh-huh." Caiti nodded. "Lots of stuff. Jaime and Zander used to say she liked me best 'cause she spent so much time showing me stuff. But they got to live with her, so I think they were just being silly."
"What about the algorithms? Where did they come from?"
"She made me figure those out. That was the hard part, but once I got one, the rest were easier. And you helped, too, remember? For my fifth birthday, we spent three whole days working on my code. That's what I wanted for my present."
Oh, God, Zane couldn't wait to be her father. He was sure the other kids were nice, too, but this kid—she was his. He knew already that the days writing code with her would be some of the best days of his life.
But his surge of adoration for his daughter didn't distract him for long. "And the subroutines you were talking about? Did you develop those for your worm?"
"Uh-huh," Caiti nodded eagerly. "S.A.R.A.H. taught me how to wrap them, too, though, so I could use 'em for lots of things."
Zane shook his head, his smile wry. So S.A.R.A.H. had taught his daughter to be a hacker. She'd given Caiti the tools they needed to solve the problem, but since Caiti had developed the solutions herself, no paradox was involved. Caiti didn't know information she couldn't know, she'd just gotten a little push to create it.
Loops within loops.
And thinking of loops... with an unpleasant lurch of his stomach, Zane realized he needed to go back to the future. The wormhole had opened twice now. He had to close the open loop or when they went back, it would be to the wrong time, the time when Caiti was still a toddler.
The kaleidoscope was in motion, the pieces spinning madly.
He knew Jo well enough to know that if she were here, she'd protest, she'd argue and she'd insist on sticking to the plan as it was written. But they couldn't afford to do that. And the timing was tight. He had limited time in the future before the quantum instability began destroying the town and limited time in the past before they had to save Alison's life.
But he wouldn't be able to get back to the past without someone here to create the second open connection he'd need.
"Think really hard, honey. Do you remember me leaving you and little-you alone?" Zane asked Big Caiti.
"It was a long time ago and I thought it was a dream," she protested. Her eyes, so similar to the ones he saw every time he looked in the mirror, narrowed. "But…" She looked back to the room that held the Einstein-Grant bridge devices. "You and me went in there," she said, pointing. "Just for a minute, though. And we came back with stuff. Lots of stuff."
Zane bit back a curse word that his young children shouldn't hear. Why hadn't he realized the open loop existed sooner? Some genius he was. Amy and Jo had no need to be out in the woods. A quick trip to the future—little Caiti's future—and they'd have all the supplies they needed. He wished Caiti had remembered that detail a little sooner.
But it had happened, it would happen, it was going to happen. The closer they stayed to the past that big Caiti remembered, the better off they would be.
"All right." He nodded, tilting his head toward the door. "I need you to come push a button for me. We'll be right back, Little Caiti."
Little Caiti looked up from her scribbling and gave him a polite wave of the fingers. "Bye-bye, Dada," she said cheerfully. "Bye-bye."
Big Caiti snorted. "He's not going anywhere, silly me," she said, following Zane to the storeroom.
Back in the storage room, Zane's mouth felt dry as he swallowed. This button got scarier every time he pushed it. What if it didn't work? What if he wound up somewhere entirely different? Damn it, he was going to make absolutely sure this device was destroyed in the very near future.
"Here's what I need you to do," he said, giving Caiti quick instructions.
Her eyes grew wide. "You are going somewhere."
"And I need you to bring me back," he confirmed. "Wait a couple minutes, then push this button."
Her grin held a glint of much-too-familiar mischief. "If I do, will you make Mommy give me my handheld back?" she bargained.
His chuckle burst forth spontaneously, and he reached out to ruffle her hair. "What, saving the future's not enough for you?"
"Well…" She lifted a shoulder in a tiny shrug. "I miss it."
"I'm pretty sure you're going to be grounded for life after this little escapade, kid. But I'll do my best."
She nodded and Zane looked around the room one last time. Fuck. He took a deep breath. It felt like he ought to get a crappy-parent-of-the-year award for this, but he was going to leave his children alone in the past. In 1947. He hoped Jo never needed to know about it.
He pushed the button.
The room shifted.
"Good morning, Dr. Donovan," S.A.R.A.H. said, politely. "I've been expecting you."
A/N: Slowest updating story in the history of ever, I know! But thanks for reading.