Near Light

by novalounge

This is a sequel to 'One Way Trip', so read that first. If 'Life is Strange' was their origin story, 'One Way Trip' was a re-awakening. An introduction to new friends, hidden enemies. Warnings for the future. Early power-ups for what lies ahead. 'Near Light' is the continued adventure of Max & Chloe, picking up where 'One Way Trip' left off. Pricefield, etc.

18. Braid

Max stepped aside for the horses. Muted hoof-falls signaled their approach before she registered their tiny bells. The open-top white and red carriage rolled past with its bundled driver and passengers, leaving distinct imprints.

Iron fencing, lamp posts, and majestic trees framed each side of the road. Dusted branches arched far above, their fractal blacks and whites contrasting with the fluffy ceiling of middling grey clouds. It was gloomy enough that the old lamps were on, adding their light to the ambience.

With most of Central Park unplowed, the only sources of sound or color were the carriages. A few groups of people out walking or playing in the late morning snow.

Gothic peaceful.

Even without leaves on the trees, it's easy to forget I'm in the heart of Metropolis.

She followed the sweep of the road until she found what she was looking for. Cleared the snow from the bench with her sleeve. Removed her glasses. Settled. Her breath fogged away in rolling, dense huffs, mimicking the frothy grey overhead.

Waited.

She searched briefly for the numbers at the base of the lamp post beside her bench, but they were hidden beneath snow and ice. The numeric codes, the secret geo-markers inscribed on every lamp in the park, dated back a hundred years.

There's something poetic about hidden codes invented by people, inscribed in architecture, further obscured by nature…selectively revealing navigational cues embedded in the structure of the network. But if you don't know, you'd never know. The meaning only becomes apparent with additional context. But that meaning is still there, whether we're in a place to see and recognize it or not.

In this case, it was the simple theme of a 19th-century architect, layered in municipal infrastructure.

If you lose your way, let the lights guide you.

She smiled at the moment she found herself in. Not lost.

Closed her eyes. Folded her mittened hands in her lap.

Listen.

Somewhere distant, the background pressure of traffic. Grey noise. But closer, over a rise, bright laughter cut through. Colorful, like beautiful flowing streamers.

Feel.

Her cheeks and nose tightened as the freezing air worked its way into her, penetrated the synthetic fill of her long jacket. She welcomed the goosebumps. The happy thoughts that came along.

What do you remember?

Easy days. She and Chloe, bundled so thick against the Oregon winter, they looked like colorful starfish. Vigorously defending the backyard snow-fort William helped them build. We made those weird catapults out of bricks, rubber bands, and old spatulas. They never did work. I couldn't have been more than five or six. Funny how things change, but…don't. We're still here together, defending forts. Both real and wildly metaphorical.

Nighttime. A happy rooftop, Chloe steaming, speechless. Max, freezing under the stars, trying desperately to undress for the warm promise of the rooftop hot tub. Bummer she lost that whole night to a reset.

Exploring. The surprised 'what the fuck do we do?' on Chloe's face as thousands of curious penguins waddle-marched toward them on the ice shelf last year. Spiraling in from all sides. They were like tuxedoed beaky zombies. Hehe.

Contrasts. The heat of the Gulf Coast. A summer camp out, where bright aqua danced over white sands. All felt right with the world. Twenty miles offshore, through atmospheric haze, New Christie. A vibrant, messy, gleaming arcology, three miles high. Night after a visiting lecture. Only a month before the very end. Their skin scorched. Was so humid that day. Chloe waded through the shallow, crystal-clear water, wearing almost nothing, wavelets kissing her thighs. Spear-fishing for their dinner. Max captured a picture of that moment; the city at the horizon joined Chloe in an evocative unity of primitive and modern.

We don't get to keep everything, though.

I wish more of those lines survived.

Less of others.

But…we could fill lifetimes with our happy memories, all the same.

I…

I miss you…

A welling.

Any distraction.

Spilling out over the fence, a group of friends engaged in a running snowball fight across the road. Exploded spray fell to earth with each muffled thump, excited scream.

Kids…

Listen to me. Kids?

They're older than I am right now.

She smiled at herself. Tried again to clear her mind.

Be.

Here.

Now.

Because each moment, each tenth-of-a-second rolling wave of perception that defines this very exact sense of 'now' - only lasts, well…approximately forever, I guess?

Each will always be, at its exact moment of its exact universe. And…even if some of those moments are undone, some of those universes end, they'll continue to exist in me. So long as I remember them.

She found the thought oddly comforting.

If almost lonely.

---

Chloe saw the hidden police SUV too late to fake the attempt.

He gave a half-hearted swing of his speed-gun as she blew by. Not like his equipment would have registered with the Veyron modded for stealth. She passed him doing nearly 180.

"Oops. Myyy baaaad," she shouted backward with a wave. He wouldn't hear.

Didn't bother to give chase, and she didn't detect a radio call. Prolly Joe. He pulled her over twice last month. Nice enough guy. Local. Wasn't a douchebro or anything. Just very concerned for everyone's safety along his stretch of road. Including the cows. Especially the cows. She didn't hassle him.

Perhaps out of some unacknowledged sense of respect for the person, she lifted off the gas, allowing the wall of air she pushed through to slow her down.

Her time with the DOD guys went okay. Started off tense, but she charmed her way through. Before departing, they politely suggested that getting a handle on the media situation would be in everyone's best interests. Check-in. Nothing more. Chloe assured them there was nothing untoward happening inside MCCP. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to find. "Liberal media, amirite?" They laughed along, too smoothly. She rolled her eyes after they turned to go. No one had a monopoly.

Over for now.

She hit comms.

"Hey, Max - dude. Got yer ears in?" Steady on the wheel.

Max's voice came through as an amplified whisper. "Loud and clear, roger. How'd it go?"

"Wrangled 'em. Stop calling me Roger."

Max replied with The Courtesy Laugh and a pleasant, "Womp."

Chloe tried not to laugh. "Only one? Dick. And nah, it was fine. Your basic CYA. No drama…meanwhile, you're in the middle of the park? Literally chillin' on a bench. Cute, lazy Otter-pop."

Max waved vaguely up. "Yep."

Traffic ahead, where the highway turned to freeway. Edge of town. Chloe slowed to 90. "Okay - I'm hungry. Feed me, Seymour."

"K. I've been waiting for you to get done."

"Pick me up from the garage in a few? Should be a few more minutes. Can we grab lunch together somewhere near you? They still have some food left in New York, right?"

Serially amused, Max replied, "Far as I know?"

"A'aight. And after, Imma borrow you for some more light detective work. Hour? Between the text logs and ghost-streams, dividing and conquering with drones and minions, only have a couple places to check out in person. They're on opposite ends though, and I don't wanna have to drive through city traffic."

"Speaking of lazy. And what, you haven't solved the Mystery of Monday on your own yet? Some super-brain you turned out to be…find your damn receipt so I can take you back to the Genius Bar."

"That's just mean." Chloe stuck out her tongue. Not that Max would see. "It's an info gap, not a processing problem. But I'd like your help if you have time for me?"

"Yeah. Def. Kidding aside, I'm worried about her, Chlo. Let's figure out next steps. It's probably all connected. Answers to one mystery might apply to the other. Expect any complications?"

Chloe smiled to herself. "You just say 'def' like it was a regular thing? And nah. Shit should be a…well…a walk in the park."

"Funny. You're funny. Jesus. This is what I get." Max shook her head, stretched on her bench.

Chloe could almost hear the eye-roll. "You mean this is what you deserve. I'm ducking hilarious, and you love me."

Max, still laughing, "Autocorrecting yourself? That - I love. I'll come back and wait for you in the lower garage. Save me a big hug."

---

Chloe hit the L-button. Shifted weight from one foot to the other. Restless.

Max sat her butt on the rail, hands on each side, one foot kicked behind the other.

Chloe backed up, pressing into her. Whispered faux-seductively over her shoulder, "Salsa."

"Tacos?" Max put her arms around Chloe's waist, hand dragging her open jacket aside. Fingertips found belly-skin.

Chloe put her hand over Max's. "Uh. Hi there. Yeah, there's a new place. Minions upstairs raved. I'll show you."

"I'm down for whatevs."

Their descent slowed. A hidden speaker dinged as the doors opened to a toasty lobby clad in rich, warm leather. A handful of bankers from one of the lower floors waited for them to exit. Chloe pivoted forward, hand trailing, pulled Max out with her.

One banker hesitated, did a double-take as they passed.

Chloe waited 'til they were out of earshot. "Aaand we're trending. Shit."

Max squeezed her hand. "Hmm? Prolly just thinks you're hot."

"You're hot."

Max switched sides, hands.

Chloe added, "But it might be a good day for low-key." The blues washed out of her hair, riding a wave of shiny jet-black.

"Loki?"

"Low…you…shut up."

Max smiled without comment. Grabbed the corner with one hand, rounded the end of the wall dividing the main lobby, speeding Chloe around the outside like she was a washer on a string. "I love that our people everywhere take turns lunchtime scout-anting." She giggled, traced from one fossil impression in the rock wall to the next with her free hand as they walked toward the bright corner-exit. "Sure you don't wanna go ice skating?"

Chloe did her own double-take. "You okay Max? I'd be more than surprised if you did. Especially today. And especially-especially after what happened last time you were on ice."

Max took an extra half-step to catch up. "I'm okay. And only playing. Kinda. But we should sometime. Be fun. We're both more coordinated now. You could throw me up and catch me or something fancy."

"South cow! You should be so lucky."

"I know! But…I'm like, ninety-percent sure it's not south cow?"

"That's the…joke…South Park, Brian Boitano song?"

Max shook her head. "No…still not…well…whatever…we should go skating anyway. I think they're breaking it down in a few weeks. Spring will have sprung, and this glorious wonderland will be gone forever."

"Only 'til next fall." Chloe scanned Bryant Park from an artificial viewpoint she constructed above. Across the street, diagonal. Pavilions. Ice rink. Lunchtime crowd watching the skater crowd. That one same dude always power-skating backward in black tights, weaving between people.

Be you, black-tights-dude.

She thought he might be related to backwards-rollerblading-pink-tights-dude in Venice Beach. Pictured a whole big family of them at home for the holidays, each in their different colors. Smiled to herself. Share that one later. Chloe pushed the wooden bar, opening the glass door to the street. "If not this year…"

"We should still try. But guess you're right. Our current priorities should mostly include feeding you, then investigating whatever we're investigating. So. To the tacos! And…salsa. Mmmm. Salsa." Max kept Chloe's hand.

Chloe made a gurgling, "saalsaaaa," like it was brains.

They turned right, zagged a few blocks in the general direction of Hell's Kitchen. The sidewalks were open, but slippery in some places. What dirty snow remained clung stubbornly to the corners, gutters.

At least the garbage has been picked up around here.

Piles of frozen bags lined curbs all over the city.

Chloe drove a couple of hummingbirds parallel to their route. Nothing to see. Split them off to patrol on their own. A few more blocks and they reached the restaurant.

The ordering line extended outside, but not far. They joined the tail end of an ongoing fight between keeping the door closed against the outside air and the civil necessity of orderly queueing.

Looked like they were early enough to beat the real lunch crowd. Line moved. They waited for their turn at the counter, ordered. Carne asada tacos for Chloe, with chips, guac, and salsa. Tall glass bottle of MexiCoke. Real sugar! Thank the maker.

Max went for the five-spiced chicken with fried rice and black beans. Neon-lime drink.

Chloe found them a small table near one of the front windows, set the order-number at the edge, wandered off with her finger in the air. "Brbs. Salsa run."

She returned a minute later with utensils, napkins, balancing an assortment of salsas in clear plastic containers. Two super-hot varieties and two that threatened mildness. The latter for Max. The others probably fell somewhere between. Or, maybe they're totally en fuego. No labels. Hard to tell.

"Thanks, babe. You da best." Max dipped a chip in the not-so-hot as they waited for their food. Paused mid-way to her mouth, rolled her eyes at something behind Chloe.

"Hmm?" Chloe followed her line of sight. A man, dressed in what looked like cold-weather construction gear, scanning a folded paper while he ate his foil-wrapped burrito. "And they say print is dead."

Max crunched. "Not quite yet."

Chloe scanned the headline. 'Senate committee expresses concern over recent MCCP allegations.' Scowled. "Oh, for fuck's sake. Seriously?"

Max smirked, reached for another chip. "Now they're concerned. Where the hell were you guys when the black rhinos were…you know…whatever." She wrinkled her brow, shook her head and shifted her attention to the world outside their window.

Chloe cracked open her bottle by hand. Cold. Sharp, exploding bubbles of fizz. "Fuck em. That's what our drones are for."

Max gave her a side-eye. "I'm pretty sure I misunderstood that."

Chloe held up her hand, laughed. "That was 100% poor phrasing."

"Maybe we should be happy we live in a time when people can still read, right?"

"I'd laugh, but…" …we know better. Chloe took a few seconds to absorb the rest of the article online. Her irritation returned. Followed links to a few other related stories. Got the gist. "Looks like the congress-critters are just reacting to media questions for now. Soundbites. Grumbly posturing. Nothing…major. I know this is all a game, and we only just got here, but the shit's already gettin' real old."

"Feel like it's just getting started, Chlo. Did you see the one in our Valley weekly from yesterday?" Max rested her chin on her hand. Made light motorboat noises in her drink while she waited.

Chloe scanned. Picture on the front page was a single frame grab from the live news camera broadcast on New Year's. Bright flare just off camera. Alena standing between the gunmen and the light. Alongside was a top-down diagram, assembled from eyewitness accounts, placing Chloe on the stairs. Confirming that she was the likely target. Repeating the notions first made by others that Alena's actions were more influenced by external psychological programming than any individual heroism of her own.

Max locked eyes. "You got it?"

Chloe nodded. "Sadly."

"See the evolution? How the attribution chains drop off? The shift in language? Like the telephone game." Max stifled a sad laugh.

Chloe brushed up earlier that morning after Max hit the shower. Studied a decade's worth of industry charts and graphs, published infographics, articles and posts on navigating crisis, managing reputation and other related topics. Internal training materials inside a handful of companies for good measure. Ran her own meta-research of everyone else's data. Saw a few new patterns emerge, but they mostly confirmed the efficacy of the general best practices. Which didn't apply in their case, since the crisis was wholly manufactured, and they couldn't respond with the capital 'T' truth.

She wasn't at Jillian's level of real-world experience or relationship development, but she understood the moving pieces in her own way. "That's not unusual, Max. This trajectory is how real scandaly things play out. There's a common pattern. We've stayed quiet so far. But most companies either come clean and give a timeline of next steps, or they don't, opting for some ham-fisted, legalese-sounding denials. Stick to their guns. Jillian's right, though - jumping in always triggers the next wave. Doesn't seem to diverge or differentiate between real scandals and well-orchestrated disinformation, which—"

"I think we're on the same page about what this probably is at this point." Max pursed her lips. "But…still. I don't know how anyone believes any of this shit? It's so obvious. Journal writes another follow-up hit piece, calls us a stupid death-cult. No proof. Two other articles quote from that story like it's an inside source or something…"

Chloe finished, "…and a day later, everyone's repeating what other writers wrote like it's just known, adding new shit, but they don't even bother to name each other's stories as the sources anymore. Sucks, but - is what it is. One day and two degrees of separation are all it takes to turn total bullcrap into facts. Meanwhile, cable news covers their viewer's tweets like they're profound revelations. Shit…you know, you should be super-happy you can't hear what's going on with talk radio, streams and podcasts right now."

"What?"

Chloe dropped her head, locked eyes. "Well, I just said be glad you can't…but… Um." In her best faux-announcer-voice, "The time is now. Somewhere…near the bottom of the barrel…thousands of angry, jostling dicks argue about the dangers of private mercenary armies…"

Max bobbed her head from one side to the other. "Well, to be fair, we kinda feel the same way. But…" She shook her head. "…that's not at all what we have."

"They say we look and quack, so… Fuck it. I have their call-in number. This is our chance? We could go on air right now and correct everyone. Explain in detail why it is that neither of us would ever require an army…"

Max stared at a spot over Chloe's head, eyes crossing. Deadpanned, "That's our whole problem, in a nutshell. That, right there."

Chloe stretched. "Or our solution. Come clean. Not like you can't undo it."

"Ehn. Sounds like work."

"Good times. And…oh. Charming extremes. A new caller is concerned about the physical dangers to the authorities when they go storming our front doors, cause…already talking about storming our front doors - nice…and a few others arguing back about jack-booted thugs and conspiracy connections to 'other' cults and standoffs, black helicopters and HAARP weather control weapons, mixed with diatribes about the evils of any federal government, positioned against brainwashing, and now they're bringing Jesus into it, and it's just all kindof—"

"Dispiriting?"

"Was gonna say batshit mosh pit. Cause, you know, it rhymes? But…dealing with trolls with audience, dude. What else are they gonna do but stir the pot. That was only one show and only a few minutes of delightfully entertaining eavesdropping." Chloe sent her eyes in different directions, tongue hanging out of her mouth.

Max slumped in her chair. "So, we've got super-angrypants arguments, about us, among strangers who have strong opinions, low information, and a global soapbox. Check. I can't. Can't put that shit in my brain right now. Just gonna make me mad. This is…Jillian's crazy-ass world anyway. Not ours. She can deal." Max waved off, dipped a chip into the mystery green salsa. Tasted it. Made a face. Recovered. "I'll take staring down bad-guy armies in person any day."

On the other side of the half-wall behind Max, a group of young office workers opened the front door, joined the back of the line. Left it open as they moved ahead. Chloe caught the chill. Impatient, she stared at them. Under her breath, muttered "Close-the-damn-door!" They didn't notice. She gave it a little mental push. Swung closed. Trying to make me manage my own damn body temp? Hell's wrong with you people?

She tapped the table, coming back to their conversation. "That…that is kinda the point though, right, Max? Standoff, toe to toe, they lose, and they know it. Only move is not to play. Your offer to them. Or change the battlefield, which seems like their response? Now we're in a guerrilla war, being slowly pecked to death by ducks. With words, I mean. Torturing metaphors, other horrors. They're making this crazy shit part of our world whether we wanted it or not—"

Max, interjected, "Something something stepped into a war with the Cabal?"

Chloe drummed a little 'bu-dum-dump' on the table. "Cute. And…eerily apropos."

She grabbed a chip, tried to dip it, but Max was already there. Bounced. "We need some chip-traffic control all up in here."

Max grinned. "Contested salsa-airspace. No fly zone!"

Chloe pinched her chip by the flat side, aimed the pointy end toward Max. "You better watch yourself. I'll contested-salsa-airspace all over your ass, Caulfield."

"Promises." Max bit her lip, winked, popped the chip in her mouth, grabbed another, angling it pointy-corner out. Poked at Chloe's chip with her own. "I shal-enge you to a doo-el," she crunched.

"Feint! Parry! Parry!" Chloe poked back. Underhand, on the sly, she swiped another chip from the bowl, auguring it into the contested salsa dish. The table wobbled. "Crash landing!" Switching hands, she picked it up, rescued it with her mouth. One arm up in victory.

Max laughed, "Eject, chip! Eject! Cheater! Oh my god, you're such a cheater!" She pushed back from the table in playful disgust.

"Not cheating - strategy! You always fall for the distraction," Chloe laughed, crunched again.

Max locked eyes, leaned back in. "You really wanna do this? Round two." Reached for a second chip.

Still laughing, Chloe dropped hers, held out her hands. "Alright, alright. You win! Brat."

"You're too easy."

"Only for you." Chloe stuck out her chip-covered tongue.

"Ew. No." Max dipped a chip in one-sided celebration. "And…on that note, wonder what other fun and startling new facts we'll learn about ourselves tomorrow?"

Chloe leaned on her arm. How to phrase this? "Uh. I know you're joking, but…Jilli said some pathetic assclown was floating some kinda conspiracy idea about how New Year's was all an inside job. I…I know."

Max closed her eyes, held the bridge of her nose. "I'm…almost surprised it took this long."

"Right? So, you know, that should be fun. Probably hit before the end of today. Exhibit 'A' includes an out-of-context transcript leaked from your surprise appearance at the bail hearing for the shooty-dudes. Before you guys went off the record in back."

Max reached for a chip. "Least the court reporter didn't get that part."

Chloe chuckled. "That might have helped us if people heard the whole thing. Although I'm sure there'd be some contingent…media-ready, overflowing with piss and manufactured outrage. Chief of police, judge, and local cult-leader conspire to ensure a fair and reasonable bail is set for the accused? Not like the whole 'hostage blackmail by the secret dickbag society' thing made the papers."

The server brought over their plates and drinks. Took their order number.

"Thanks."

"Gracias."

"…or the rescues. Exigent circumstances, they called it. Some of the right people knew at least." Max grappled with her taco. "Having the Chief as an ally helped. Well, you know what…fuck it," she laughed. "Whatever. I just can't. This whole thing is getting so stupid and kinda outta control." Shrugged.

Chloe took a small bite, stated the obvious. "You've been pretty light all day. Magic 8-ball says you made up your mind a while ago. To go back."

Max glanced at Chloe, pointed to her mouth, finished chewing before responding. "Oh, yeah. Totally. Mostly deciding between rewinding to Sunday night with Jillian's prep work, or avoiding the whole thing by jumping back and leaving myself a note to nope out of the interview altogether."

Chloe, sheepish. "I know this is selfish and all, but I'd rather not lose any memories of our mini-vacay. If we don't have to. If you're taking requests."

Max nodded. "I know. I was thinking thoughts earlier. I don't wanna lose our time or our chats either. Sounds like we blow off Juliet? Nix the interview?"

"Nicely?"

"Prolly the best way to avoid this runaway cascade of cereal aggravation. Plus, some people really got hurt, or might even be dead at this point. And…speaking of hurt. We both know from experience exactly what Juliet has to be feeling right now, wherever she is." Max tilted, leaned, took another bite of her taco. Stuff fell out the back.

Chloe pointed at the taco-fall on Max's plate. "Not something I'd wish on her permanent emotional record."

"Agreed. We can't leave her out there like this. I have a feeling she's been dealing with enough. Maybe not, I don't…"

Chloe, too casually, "I feel like you've done this before. With me?"

"Course." Max didn't expand.

Chloe stared off. With everything going on, not the day to pull that thread. Not like I'd remember anyway.

"I hope it's that easy, Max. Have this nagging worry though, like it might not be so simple. There's something we don't see yet."

"I'm hoping our efforts this afternoon clarify things before I bounce back, but you already have a working theory?"

Always. "A couple. Rough. One of the spots we're heading later, it's a junkyard in Hunts Point. Bronx. I'll show you the map before we leave, but it's where one of the bad-guy vans ended up."

"The end of the video trail?"

Chloe nodded. "One of them. Yeah. It's weird. Like, the edits to all the video trails cut off after a half hour, except for Juliet's. Everyone else's goes back to normal video, but she vanishes completely. Should have been picked up somewhere down the line. Even erased, but nothing. And no more artifacts anywhere after the train, either. So…unless she's been hiding in a subway bathroom stall for four days, or these peeps suddenly got way better at masking their selective digital erasures—"

Max jumped ahead. "—and only used their new skills on her trail… You think someone wanted us to find this. To see." She set down her partial taco, careful not to let it flop sideways, reached for her drink.

"I'm starting to think those video flaws were intentionally left behind. Near-invisible breadcrumbs. If they were capable of doing it without leaving them, which they apparently were. It's like whoever fucked with the recordings had an intention. I don't know how else to describe it, but yeah, I think maybe they wanted us, you and me, to know what happened that morning. And wanted us to know that Juliet got away, and maybe point us in the direction of some bad guys." Chloe took another bite. "That's everything they left behind. And not sure who else it could have been for."

Max looked concerned, "But without letting us know where Juliet is? Hiding her from us too? Interesting choice. What's that all about?"

---

Juliet fidgeted with the phone. She was more together than she'd been in days past, but her short nap didn't take much of the edge off her exhaustion. Waited half the morning for someone to reply over the secure chat app they pre-installed.

Her clothes hung in front of the wall heater. She didn't find anything suitable in any of bedrooms, so she finally caved, hand washed hers in the sink.

She snuggled under a thick, scratchy blanket, gripping the phone. Waiting.

Her life now.

Waiting.

A buzz.

:: I'm here.

Finally!

Juliet had a list. First, who. She worked her fingers free of the blanket, typed out, 'What do I call you?'

:: Hi to you, too. I'm not the only one here. But when I'm on, you might call me Ian.

JW:: Was it you who handed me the phone Monday?

Ian:: No. He was only a man, hired for that purpose.

Despite the trauma of her ordeal, Juliet was still Juliet. Safe enough for the moment, and with nothing else to do. She couldn't turn off the part of her brain that needed to understand. Needed to assemble the pieces of the story in her head.

It's more than one person. A…collective. It's in their name, Jules. They said before. Pay attention.

JW:: Why me? Who were they? What did they want? And how did you know?

Ian:: We anticipated your questions, and I'd very much like to help you feel better. But I don't have all of the answers to share with you. There's much we don't know.

JW:: Why are you helping me?

Ian:: We already told you. It's crucial that you're safe.

JW: That wasn't an answer.

Ian:: It was.

Juliet didn't reply.

Ian:: You needed help, and it's our turn to help. Who can say? Perhaps a stranger will come along who needs your help one day, and then it will be your turn. Wouldn't that be something?

Thought about her next question. Sidelined it for the most important one.

JW:: When can I go to the police? Go home?

Ian:: It's best if you remain where you are. We cannot guarantee the honor of every official who may become aware of you. They continue to search for you.

Ian:: Ember also brightens with companionship.

JW:: Ember?

Ian:: The marmalade mammal you've been feeding. (-:

That's her name. Ember.

Ian:: We have more time to chat later. I only wanted to check on you, remind you that you're not alone, and to reassure you that we're not ignoring you. But I have only a moment. There are others who will need our help today.

JW:: Wait! When will you be on again?

Ian:: Tonight. After dark. Take care. If there is an emergency, say so here. Someone will see to you.

JW:: Thank you. Talk later?

Ian:: Hej då

Juliet set the phone aside. Propped her head on her arm, thinking, layering in new detail.

That was unsatisfying.

His diction was unusual…and his goodbye at the end. ESL? That makes sense if he's in some kind of international hacker group. They're probably all remote. Someone is loading the baskets and flying the drone, though. Hired? He wouldn't say who they were, or why any of this is happening to me.

But if he doesn't know who those men were or what this is about, then how did they know anything about me at all? I don't understand.

At least we've confirmed that you're not going anywhere tonight.

Aloud, she whispered, "Just you and me today…Ember. Nice to meet you. Who do you belong to? Why did they leave you here by yourself? I have so many questions."

Ember twitched her ears, lifted her head.

Juliet rubbed her nose, the 'M' mark on her forehead.

"Hungry too? You know, don't you? You have all the answers somewhere in there."

Her head crashed back down. Tucked under, exposing her chin.

"If I taught you to speak, what would you say?"

Probably 'feed me.'

---

Chloe shrugged. "It doesn't make a lot of sense to hide her from us, does it? That shit bugs." She took a bite.

Max stopped eating, leaned on her elbows. "We getting to the theory part of your theory soon? I have my own; I'm just curious."

Chloe, eyes up, "Theory number one - kindof a duh - there are FutureUs fingerprints all over this, right?"

Max hesitated. "Maybe. Not super-sure about that. If that was us, I don't know when it could have been. We were off-world the whole time. Did I go missing Monday?"

Chloe double-checked. "No…which…is a…minor flaw in that theory."

Max shrugged, "I don't have any mystery gaps in my memory, either. Can usually tell. And since I can't be two places at once, I'm out. I mean, that maybe leaves open the possibility for an extra you running around in short pants somewhere, but—"

Chloe laughed, "Pretty sure I'd have noticed that."

"Well, love, without more information, it remains…" Max hand-waved, "…a mystery." She took another casual bite.

"Wait - what was your theory?" Chloe sipped.

"It's probably nothing. Tell you later if I'm right."

Chloe squinted. "That's so not cool, dude. I showed you mine. Again. Grrr. Fine. You don't get to hear the alternate I've been working on."

Max chewed in silence.

"Not taking the bait, huh. K. Uh. No, but I don't know, Max. If it was us, I just kinda wish we'd said hi or something. Basic cover-note, whatevs? So we'd know, I mean, instead of these lame-ass games that only leave us wondering."

"If it was us, you made that choice not to say hi, Chlo. So there must be reasons. The same kind we'd usually have, prolly."

"Lame…but…yeah. Maybe…might not be us after all. I mean, why would we even bother if you're already going back to head the whole thing off? If the timeline's a bust? Wasted effort. Flaw two in that theory." Chloe shrugged, took a swig.

"Dunno. It's all speculation. Over delicious tacos. These are good, by the way. But, like, maybe…maybe we've been in more than one loop? What if…what if I didn't end up going back without knowing for sure that something bad happened to Juliet? Or the other way - that she was okay? Or maybe I dropped back to change things but knew more than I should, and something else went wrong? Either way, what if our future selves had to go back again and fix something new in our collective past to compensate? If it was a shared moment in time on the way to a different future, the ripples should still pass forward through both possible futures together. Only, what looks like noise in the first pass might be there to change things in the second?"

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "That's an interesting thought. Go back far enough, and everything carries forward. But not everything we see would necessarily make sense in the first pass. Gotta admit that's something. Might also bolster my alternate theory that I'm totally not telling you about now."

"Meanie! Suppose it's too late for me to share, huh?" Max grinned.

"Nope. Had your chance. Nothing you can do. But, I don't know, in a way, it's almost exactly like us caching stuff with Nelson back in the 80's. Outside the influence of anything we've messed with in our lifetimes…"

"Yeah. And see? Precedence for leapfrogging through wider loops."

Chloe tried to ignore the line outside. People looking in. Splattered some bottled hot sauce on her next taco. "Although that might imply our future selves are more active manipulating our past and present to reshape their future than we've maybe considered. Us, not just world events around us. If that's true, could there be different, even more future versions of them, changing the changes that FutureUs made to NowUs? If they fucked it up? Or even More-More FutureUs, changing back what FutureUs did to PastUs or NowUs? Where does it stop? Like these endless waves of leviathan Maxes and Chloes out there billions of years from now, just fuckin' around, tromping back and forth through our lives? Would we even know?"

"Nope." Max shrugged without commitment. Chomped a chip full of rescued taco droppings.

Chloe squinted. "I'm concerned you don't seem super-bothered by this, Max." She gave in, scanned the crowd outside. Social profiles, military and police records. Nothing weird. Just people.

"I can tell. What can I say? If it is them, I trust FutureUs. Whatever it is, it's working out okay. I mean…" Max dipped another chip in her beans. "Obviously, complications and a few rough patches, that's what all the navigation we do is for, right? But we're good so far."

Chloe frowned, fidgeted. "Irritates me on some fundamental level when I think about it. I don't like being manipulated. Even if it is by myself, or us…or…you know?" Chloe tossed her fork on her plate with a clank. Was louder than she intended.

"We do it all the time, Chloe," Max laughed softly. "I mean, that's like our one and only job. Every rewind. Every note. The company. Every invention you introduce out of time. Your entire freakin' brain? This whole timeline's one giant manipulation. That's the point."

Chloe crossed her arms. "Okay - that's…duh. Didn't mean it like that, genius. Meant us. It's…example - okay, like this - this has been bugging me. Back to Lombard." Chloe stated the self-evident. Waited for Max to catch up.

"What about it? We know that was FutureUs, messing with the past."

"But why?" Chloe raised her eyebrows.

Max, puzzled, "You said it was mostly for safekeeping of the cube. And the broken space-bad-guy-living-world-detector-galactic-GPS-gadget-murder-scoreboard-thingie?"

Chloe crossed her eyes. "You should totally consider a moonlighting career drafting our tech manuals." She pushed her plate back. Less hungry than she thought. "Maybe that's true…maybe that's all it is. Safekeeping. Awesome. If I trusted the Nelson-cube to present a complete picture - but I kinda don't have any way to know for sure, since they still won't fucking let me access most of it."

"I'm sure it's for a reason."

"There's a broken record." Chloe's narrowed her eyes. "I keep cycling on this, but we spend two years making Lombard a thing at some future point. Like, specifically. Two years of our lives. Okay, granted, we apparently got to hang out in the golden age of punk, while we hid some weird-ass alien tech near Area 51, which is kinda cool when I think about it. But, we could have just hidden shit under a random boulder somewhere. Anywhere. Rocked out. Engaged in some light, recreational trespass. Gone back home to whenever. One day away, boom, prolly would have been safe enough. For reals, dude. How many boulders are in the same place they were a few decades ago? Betting it's nearly all of them? But we made Lombard into a company, to make real, physical things. Why? It's overkill if we just wanted to hide something. And so, looking at what they do, why make sensor tech?"

"You obviously have a destination I'm not seeing. Where are you going with this, love?" Max took a final sip of bright green. "What's on your brain?"

Chloe misjudged. Explained. "Day all the shit went down. You coming all the way back, the nuke, synthetics… I was helpless in their stupid underground lab, handcuffed to a stupid underground table watching all the streams. Worried, trying to understand what was what. And Margaret, you know, she was there with me, and she said something. Offhand comment, but it was shit she pulled from them. Said they needed you for that whole charade. Like, obviously, they wanted a shot at taking you out too. And they managed to find another way to do the dirty bomb without you two years later, in the very first timeline. But she said they were using you, moving in the freeze, to get the nuke past the radiological detection ring surrounding the city."

Max looked outside. "That seems like forever ago. Doesn't it? And that made sense from their perspective."

Something flashed. Chloe glance up. The line outside stretched out of sight. Third woman over from the door. Must have recognized them. Casual. Her attention was already back on her lunch friends.

Chloe absently grabbed for a chip while erasing her photo. "Okay, but guess who made those sensors, smartypants? The ones DHS had networked all around the city? The ones they needed your help to get around?"

Max took a breath, looked up, back to Chloe, shrugged her shoulders. "Your not-so-subtle sheep-dogging points me to Lombard."

"Ding Ding. Every goddamn one of 'em."

"Okay, but—"

"Look, I'm not saying anything's for sure, Max. Could be pure freakin' coincidence. But…what if it's not? It fits, right? What if that whole fucking day, literally everything we went through before that, everything that happened leading up to you coming back, was engineered? A new script or a new program. Instead of something else that would have happened if The Glorious Asshats didn't need to find a way around our sensor net? What went down that day without that ring in place? There are so many dependencies chained together - so what were we doing in the early 80's? If that was a manipulation to change things, was it really from the future that's ahead of us now? Or a completely different one, since altered? Do they even exist ahead anymore? What pass are we really in? And it begs the question - was the cube, the device, even meant for this timeline? Or is it intended for some future reboot? See what I mean? Like, how long have we been doing this shit?"

Max leaned back, straightened her utensils, her expression deadly serious. "With the specific chain of events that led up to that day…I can promise you, Chloe - there's zero possibility we had a hand in designing it. Not like that. Trust me on this, okay? But…that narrow premise aside, I'm with you in general. I'm positive we're being nudged around here and there. Obviously. That whole day was a giant push, from the future of another branch of reality at the very least. OtherChloe? So why not more nudging from the future of this one too? Another little push? A sort of set - spike, between time zones and realities? I'd believe it. And which would have come first?

"Maybe having those sensors in place lined things up different. Maybe it wasn't even the second pass through. And maybe that butterfly gathering didn't happen at all otherwise? Like what if there was some specific event in there that was necessary for OtherChloe to find me that day. Maybe…I don't know…maybe without that ring, it took another hundred years for bits and pieces of me to weave back, blackout by blackout - only by then, it was too late to change anything? Maybe that was another hack. Speeding things up. And yeah, maybe…the rest isn't for us yet. But even if that's true it will be for us when we're ready for it.

"Or maybe none of that's true. Can't know. But if it is us, that's the thing - I don't see any of this as a problem. It sounds super tangled, but in principal, it's no different to shit we do all the time, Chlo. They're big moves, sure, but I don't know that I buy coincidence. That ring part sounds super intentional when you say it like that. Granted, Lombard's stuff has also been deployed in other cities and countries. So there could be totally unrelated or secondary reasons for building it that we might not be aware of yet. And with the intricacies of shifting futures that you're suggesting, we may never understand - this might be all we get. But I'm sure it's something we'd totally do if we thought it would help us or other people. And I think that's the important point to remember. The 'why' behind it. The 'us' behind it. Ahead of it. However it looks from here."

Chloe bounced her leg under the table. "See, Max? That…annoys me. It honestly doesn't bother you at all? Like we're being pushed down rails? Through a hedge maze by some…hidden hand? Or on some looping track, over and over. I mean, fuck causality, right? What's our motivation to go back and do Lombard again when it's our turn in the future? Cause we know they did in our past? What if that's the only reason it happened? Cause it happened before? And if we don't do it again, does it create a paradox? Or does it only trap us in oscillating futures, trading places back and forth between disintegrating branches of reality like some freshman electrical circuit? Multiple versions of us doing and undoing each other's work, creating one version of them, then replacing with the other in an endless cycle of going nowhere. Do we fork? What if it's all just fucking random loops we're stuck repeating, cause we think it's supposed to go a certain way? Following our own tail, like some old TNG or SG-1 episode? Or worse - what if it's not what we think at all? What if we're not who we think we are?"

Max took Chloe's hand. Did that thing, that soft pressure, a slow roll of the webbing with her thumb.

The buzz of excess energy began to slip away.

"I don't believe we're in a maze, Chloe. But if we are, and if we're being guided, optimized, it's by versions of ourselves who maybe found the path through. Or at least have a better idea of which direction the exit is. Means we're the ones doing the pushing, and chances are, we'll know way more than we do right now. Like the shape of it from above or something."

"Okay - what if they only know the beginning and a bad end or two? But not the right end yet?"

Max nodded. "Sure. Might be a process. It might be possible that we're somewhere in the middle, and this is like a longer-form version of…how Hector describes his feedback cycles looping and looping until there's alignment between his look ahead and the real future he wants? You've heard him describe it. He's not aware of the feedback side…but if we're in something even remotely similar, if there are much longer iterative tuning loops for us, there would be no way to know for sure. But that might also be the only way."

Chloe wanted to interrupt. Held back, aware of the contradictions she felt. Almost willing Max to help her believe.

On the one hand, it would be a relief to know that their path was verified and highlighted by some perfect, shiny future version of them. But she couldn't visualize who they might be. Especially when every change their future selves made along the way carried the risk of changing who they ended up becoming. Like an ever changing series of Maxes and Chloes, making 'one shiny version' impossible.

The least confident part of Chloe, the one most willing to cede control, fought with the part that resented authority, mistrusted, refused to be at the mercy of others; the part that demanded she take control.

Max continued, "Maybe we're not done in one go. If that's the implication. Worse ideas out there than spending more time with you. So it doesn't matter to me. Long as we get there. But I trust us to have our hearts in the right place, Chloe. I do. I've said this before, but with what we're up against, for reals - the more help, the better. And I agree - it doesn't feel entirely random to me. But it's not perfect enough to feel like an optimal final pass either - and maybe there isn't such a thing. Channeling Voltaire, right?"

Chloe plucked the reference from context. "…the enemy of the good enough is the better?"

"Yeah. We'd have to have that thought eventually. But I feel this is going somewhere - which means it's a means to an end that you and I planned. And hopefully, by the time we finish, however long the trip we take together, we'll have lived it in a way that takes the least-bad path to the most good for everyone. And if better versions of us wanna help guide things in the right direction every once in a while, I'm so cool with that."

"I guess. I don't know." Wasn't exactly what Chloe meant. She considered redirecting, but the lunch crowd wrapped sideways along the sidewalk, and the open door sapped most of the heat from the room.

No closing it this time.

Louder inside with more people too. More energy. People clumped up past the counter, staring, waiting for tables to open up. Critically eyeballing their lack of chewing and their mostly empty plates.

Time to bail.

Revisit later.

Chloe gestured to Max's plate. "You done?"

"Yeah."

"Let's bounce." Chloe got up from the table, bussed their trays.

Max followed. Grabbed two complimentary churros on the way out.

They made their way through the crowd. Outside, they turned right, away from the line. Chloe scanned from above for somewhere out of the way, where they could make the jump unseen.

Max caught up. "Where to?"

"Quick stop in downtown Brooklyn next." Chloe led Max into a service alley between skyscrapers, behind a bin. Her arm lit, projecting a map highlighting their destination.

"Got it. Rooftop entry?"

Chloe nodded. "Yes, please?"

---

Max aimed. The world shifted, leaving them in an out of the way corner of a mid-rise rooftop in downtown Brooklyn. Unmolested snow covered everything in a hush.

Dark and gloomy over here too.

Could always carve a teeny hole in the clouds. Let in some sunshine just for us. Scare the hell out of literally everyone else, probably. We're resetting anyway. No. Or…I could keep us warm other ways and leave the poor clouds alone.

Chloe ran a dozen steps, kicked her feet out, slid over a snow-covered duct blocking her way to the far side of the roof. Stopped, turned. "That was fun. And thanks again. For hanging, helping me today."

Max gave her the thumbs up. "Course. What are we up to here?" Max followed in Chloe's footsteps, only slower, with more scooting and less sliding.

"You and I, my love, are going to do a quick in-and-out of an office down on the 8th floor. I want to get some mugshots of some of their peeps, but there aren't any windows. Once I can follow their face-trails, I'll figure out who they are and how they relate to everything. Might answer a few lingering questions."

"Cool. What can I do?"

"I don't know. Tag along? Maybe look cute and lost when we hit reception?

"Wish I'd known. Could have worn my dinosaur shirt."

Chloe laughed. "You're good." She reached the stairwell door. Gripped the frozen knob, twisting until something inside it snapped with a hollow ping. The door opened out. She pulled, snowplowing.

Once they were in, they hit metal stairs, wrapped around and down. They boomed and echoed loudly with every step, or in Chloe's case, jump. Three floors. Stopped at a landing with a large painted '8'. Chloe motioned for Max to hang back. She held her palm to the door, pulsed. Her courtesy-holo showed Max the outlines of an empty hall beyond.

Chloe repeated her trick on the lock, opening them into an old, narrow hallway, near a set of restroom doors. The elevator lobby was in one direction. She took them in the other. Not much in the way of light. Half the overheads were out, and the half-window at the end of the hall was papered over.

Max scuffed her shoe. The floors were linoleum, worn, broken in places. The walls felt thin, broken up by frosted glass set in dark oak doors. "This is like something out of a noir detective show."

"Right? Practically in black and white. Here. 801b." Chloe tapped the number painted on the glass.

Max had to squint. There was no light shining through. "Lunch break?"

Chloe didn't reply. Tried the knob. "Locked." She held up her hand. Wiped the grime on her sleeve. "I don't think this door's been opened in a while. Shit. We might be chasing a fake address."

Max leaned against the far wall. "Let's see what's inside. Timeline's going anyway."

"Right." Chloe twisted the knob. A familiar ping. The door didn't open. Chloe put her shoulder into it. Finally gave with a snap and groan. They entered. Something smelled odd; somewhere between dust and ozone. The air was warm at least.

Max felt around for a light switch. Flicked it on.

Some of the overhead fluorescents came to life with clicks and pops and a sickly green. As many didn't do anything at all. There was nothing in the lobby. No furniture. Only a few doors.

Chloe checked. All but one opened to small, empty rooms. The last was the exception, opening to a space that must have been half of the 8th floor. And some portion of an adjoining building, by the look of the roughly half-demolished walls between them. Whatever lay beyond was hidden in shadows.

The volume was bare, save for a dozen tall equipment racks in the center, ringed like some kind of high-precision indoor metal-henge. Square concrete pillars, exposed ceilings, broken flooring. Large braids of wires, plastic wrapped in shiny-grey and as thick as a leg, snaked away from the racks along the ground in ten directions. Waves of smaller black bundles radiated between them. Some split, plunging through holes in the walls or ceiling, others through the floor, while some remained whole, continued around corners or into the next building to disappear out of view.

"Chlo?"

Chloe shoved her hands in her front pants pockets. Silent. "…I did not see this one coming. Gimmie a sec."

Max approached the broken wall to the next building. Dark. "Should have brought my camera. Rare event to see you surprised. Easy question first then? Where are we?"

"Sorry, Max. A money trail led to this address. Through it, at least. I thought it was probably a blind, but this is weirder." Chloe went to the center, between racks. "Huh. Vexing."

"As in actual Vex?" Max chuckled, stepping over a thick wire run.

"No…these are damn expensive pirate racks though."

"Yar." Max made her index finger into a hook, wobbled it around, covered her other eye with her other hand.

"More…ARRRR. All these bundles are coming in from other floors, buildings, and up from the street level. Micro-printing on the cables in the big runs says they're Cat 8 Ethernet - that spec won't even be approved for another four months. Probably 7's, marked up for the suckers. The others are fiber bundles. Wait…yeah, that's why - we're over a backbone trunk. These are guerrilla splices into the fiber, on a loop up from underground. Massive bit flow pumping through here, but I'm not sure what the purpose is. Equipment's all basic IXP territory…exchange class shit…wave division repeaters...switches…transceivers…if I had to guess, this is some kind of splitter, like a man-in-the-middle attack on a section of backbone, probably snarfing before retransmitting, but I can't be sure. Looks different from the big NSA taps in the carrier exchanges. And there's no buffering or storage here… It's real-time only. Doesn't make any sense. The gear looks modified, but…I'm not sure….what… Okay. I've seen enough. The logic will be in the software. That'll tell me what's up."

Max bent down to examine a cable bunch more closely. "Reminds me of old-school artificial muscle fibers, braided like this. You see what it's doing in there yet?"

"There's no wireless, no console. Need access to eyeball the code. Watch it run. Maybe dupe a traffic sample from one of the switches at least, see if it's being altered or… But I'm not sure where it's headed, or how to get in here from outside, exactly. Can you pop into my office real quick and grab the blue USB stick that's in my middle drawer? It's full of tiny robots. I can use it to infiltrate, get what I need. I promise you'll be my favorite for the rest of the day?"

"I'm already your favorite, but sure." Max folded to Chloe's office, back at HQ, grabbed the USB device from her desk and returned. Tossed it to her underhand. "This the one?"

"Yeah. Perf." Chloe caught it, plugged it into an open USB port. The blue LED on the end blinked. She stepped back, crossed her arms. "Okay. Autopilot." Turned to Max. "We can chill here, in this lovely environment, I guess? Or go out, grab a coffee. Little guys will take a minute to work their magic, plus I wanna get a decent sample onto the mini-cube inside. We got ten, fifteen minutes to kill?"

"Cool. Nowhere I need to be. Café du Jardin ok?" Max skipped to Chloe. "If they're still open?"

"Sorry, babe. They close at six, their time. Noon here, that's now. But…hang on - no, maybe a save. Looks like Aya's still hanging out, serving a couple stragglers. That's why. Her man's running late. Yeah, we're cool. We got a good twenty minutes 'til she goes lights out."

---

Chloe stopped short of the open door.

The picture window reflected the old stone pillars, the red and orange skies over le Jardin du Palais Royal. Overhead lights inside the cafe broke through, complimented the sunset.

Wiping the counter, Aya glanced over. Blew a tangle of hair from her eyes. Newly bleached tips popped against her golden-brown skin.

Chloe pointed to the clock, made apologetic 'it's okay?' gestures.

She nodded, waved them in.

The other late patrons were seated outside.

Chloe bounded in, leaned, folded her arms on the raised corner display case. "Bonsoir Aya! Un café s'il vous plaît?"

The air inside archived the dense aromas of ground coffees, pastries, and sweets.

"Hello, Chloe. Hello Maxine. Do you mind, if we switch to English? I feel I should practice with a more friendly audience than the tourists before my trip? Although, by then I will be one of them."

Aya was one of the few people Max never tried to correct. Chloe figured it was the way she said Maxine. Her Ivorian accent was a joy. Chloe teased Max after the first time, but she brushed it off.

"Business is still good then? Where are you guys going this time?" Chloe rested her chin on her folded forearms.

Aya filled the filter with freshly ground coffee. "The season is slow, but it's soon busy. I have to hire some new helper for spring when I come back. Until then, I'm very excited that we finally go to Sydney, in Australia."

Max smiled. "It's beautiful. I'm sure you'll love it. When?"

"Not for two weeks? The calendar's pages cannot move fast enough."

"Should be nice and warm for you guys. 25, at least?" Chloe switched to the more common Celsius.

"I'm glad of that. We're tired of the winter, and I want to stay in the sun and warm water and see the big sharks up close! We're gone for a week this time. We'll share pictures."

Max glanced at the menu board. "Sharks used to terrify me."

Chloe let out a 'ba-dum' under her breath.

Max didn't react.

"But not afraid now?" Aya poured hot water.

"The world is their home too. It wouldn't be the same if they were gone."

Aya nodded. Smiled. "How are you both? It's been weeks since you come in."

Chloe chuckled, ducked down to examine the contents of the sweets case. "We're good. Causing trouble. You know, the usual."

"I wish I knew you were coming. I would have saved a madeleine for you, Maxine. We had lemon today. I ate one with my lunch when they were still warm. Do you want something also, dear?"

Max leaned on the counter, next to Chloe. "Would a chai latte be too much trouble this late? You don't have to if it's not convenient. I know you're closed."

"It's no trouble if a go cup is okay for both of you?"

"No, that would be perfect, thank you."

They spent a few more minutes catching up before Aya shooed them outside with their drinks, sugar cubes, and two small complimentary chocolate brownies, dusted with powdered sugar.

They left behind a generous tip for her kindness in staying, and well wishes for a great trip. Walked to their usual cafe table outside the iron fence, partway to the fountain. The rows of trees were bare, leaving the sky open. Max kept them warm. Sipped her latte.

Chloe broke pieces off her brownie.

The pleasantness of their surroundings aside, her mind lingered on their lunch chat. That ill-defined, scratchy sense of unease coming from somewhere behind the curtains. She didn't get it across right earlier.

After chomping down a couple of brownie chunks, she asked, "Max? Can we circle back to something?"

Max put down her cup. "Shoot."

"From lunch. When we were talking, you zoomed in on loop time as the thing, but that wasn't exactly where I was coming from. That's not not a thing, but…my point, which I didn't do a good job with, was more about general questioning and… I guess it comes down to this. Are we being responsible enough, when making critical decisions on limited information, by replacing our best judgement with faith that some outside agent, some theoretical future version of ourselves, knows best?"

Max paused. "You don't trust us?"

Chloe rested her boot on the edge of Max's chair. Leaned back, hands in her jacket pockets. "It's not that, exactly. If I'm honest, I'm not sure who that 'us' is. But bigger picture, the more we go on faith, the less we think critically about things ourselves. The less reason to try to fill in our knowledge gaps ourselves. It puts us in a position where we're not the ones driving. Not from here."

Max leaned forward, hands on her go cup. "Are you worried about bad intentions then? Cause we still have agency - we're just exercising it from another position along the timeline, agreed?"

Chloe shrugged. "I'm just asking, are we naive to outsource our decisions to some unknown, idealized future version of ourselves, without question? That's all. We make mistakes all the fucking time. And who we are, might be, changes. And, like, I don't know - what if we're not even recognizably 'us' up ahead?"

"What do you mean, Chloe?" Max held her gaze.

It sounded uber-stupid the second she put the words together in her head, but she let them go because they still conveyed some of her feelings. "We're assuming it's us-us, but…there's no authentication, or way to check our intentions. Just wait…I'm not committed to this, just turning over rocks. But imagine all this leads to a darker future - what if we've been turned? Or what if we've changed too much? Over, say, geologic or cosmic timescales? Maybe for the worse? Or maybe worse - what if we've become so radically different that we're indifferent to anything but maintaining our future-present indifference. Ambivalent, Doctor Manhattan style, you know? It's like…that old Cure song…'the further I get from the things that I care about, the less I care about how much further away I get.' Like erosion. That's no fuckin' bueno for the here and now. Or yeah, I guess, edge case, what if…what if right now, we're trusting in the best intentions of some unhinged, malevolent us from the Evil Mustache Universe or something completely—"

"Chloe," Max laughed. Caught herself, eyes twinkling. "Promise, I'm only laughing near you, not…come on. I know you're taking an extreme position to make your point, but look at where we are. They…we…seem kind of helpful. You've met FutureMe before. Did she have a mustache?"

Dammit. "I've met some versions of near-future you…but…obviously, no. Not—"

"Okay then. No mustache, no Evil Mustache Universe. Hashtag Solved."

"But…I just—" Holy shit why do I sound so fucking dumb right now?

Max smiled, reached, palm on the table. "Chlo, I'm hardly an analyst or whatever, but…I know you. This isn't really about that, is it? Assuming the worst of us? Is it possible it's not about driving, or our intentions, so much as it is just not knowing in general? Our new future. The answers. Feeling like we're responsible for how it all turns out, while none of us could be qualified… But, we're still miles ahead of everyone else on that score."

Chloe scooted forward, sat up.

Max pulled her hand back, gave her room. "You've always been good at solving mysteries - partly because you never really liked leaving space for a mystery to simply be. You go through these phases, sometimes, where I know you have to know absolutely everything. Right now. All of it."

Chloe shrugged. Obviously. "Don't you? With what's out there?"

"I actually might know everything, Chlo. You've said it before. I mean, I probably do. Just, can't see it from my conscious lifeline, embedded in the linear flow of this universe. And who knows, maybe some inappropriate feeling of calm leaks through sometimes. You might know everything too, for all you know. You don't know what's behind those locked memory vaults. In you from OtherChloe or the hidden parts of the cube Past-FutureUs left with Nelson. And I get it - I know that's gotta be a big part of it for you, every day. It's something right there, maybe all of the answers you want, and they've got this big red 'nope' sign plastered on, keeping them out of reach. I know it drives you crazy, babe. Especially with all of the other worries you've been processing. And that lack of patience, that drive, is part of what makes you so good - so persistent and amazing and brilliant at straining to see patterns and finding answers and getting at the cause and the truth of things. But—"

"Max - it's bugging the shit outta me." Chloe folded her hands on the table. Bounced them once. "It's right there, but totally cock-blocked. It's like there's this giant 'fuck you' from two futures. I can't —"

"But you know how this works, Chlo. You have to remind me way more than I remind you - we'll know what we need to when we need to know it."

"Yeah. Control the variables, blah blah. I know it's right and it's necessary and all that shit. I do. I'm just sayin' it annoys me - that's all. You know, I feel like we spent the whole weekend talking around this, but…I'm still trying to guide this stupid machine of theirs over the finish line, so we can fix their stupid fucking alien space-shit device they apparently broke, for…reasons. But as it gets closer to being done - really done - it's getting way too real. And yeah, it's got me thinking, why, exactly? You know? What's next?" She threw up her hands. "I have no fuckin' clue what this thing's gonna do. Or what it might set in motion. Or…you know? Do you? That's what I'm saying. We're following limited instructions, but we don't know the reasons. And without knowing the reasons, I'm not sure it's 100% smart to blindly play along all the time. We don't know them, which means we can't be sure of their master plan. And without that, I can't guarantee it'll be safe."

"We'll be safe, Chlo."

"Are you absolutely certain? You did a rewind, the day we found it, but it stayed stuck in the goddamn wall." Chloe rested her chin on her hands. "I'm…we may not be able to walk this back if shit goes bad. You know that, right? I'm worried. I think something about this scared 'em. This thing. And yet, they leave it for us with no intel, no help. It's like…a loaded gun that might also go thermonuclear if we touch it wrong. For real. If everything's shiny, why hold back secrets? It's as if…at the least bad, we've intentionally tied ourselves up here, and I…I don't understand why."

She'd been here before. Knowing that didn't always help. There were things she couldn't put a finger on, others she could. Max was so patient with her though; leading, but not leading.

True to form, Max soothed, "We know their master plan, Chloe. It's ours. And have we? Tied ourselves up? Everything we've done has helped us. Everything." She shook her head. "You were given two-thirds of the secrets of the universe, and you're stressing that the last third is hidden for a while longer. When you have the brains to figure it on your own. Again. Where do you think this came from, if not you? Do you believe that you could put others in harm's way? That we would?" She reached, took Chloe's hand.

"That's my point though, Max. Can we afford to make assumptions about how similar they might be? It's an important question, and—"

"I hear you. But I think we're in a good place, all things considered. There are things I'd change, of course. Obviously. Probably always be true. But maybe there's more at play than your justifiable need for certainty. If we cheat, if we skip right to the end, to all the answers, from where we are at the beginning, or middle, we might miss everything that makes us the us that makes it all the way to the end."

Chloe felt that hand-pressure again. Subtle. Calming. Without drilling a hole in her skin.

Max's voice was relaxed. "Chlo, you were the one always saying our thoughts and actions write themselves into us. Good and bad. That they change us. Even in the very beginning, remember? Seattle? Before any of this shit really took off? Darkside speech?"

"Yeah. Course. I—"

"It can be frustrating, but we still have to go through it, babe. And from time to time, that's gonna mean taking some things on faith. Cause we can't know everything, but we have to keep moving. It's what makes the future for all of us. Fate requires that we think our free thoughts and exercise our free will along the way. That's how our path through the universe gets written. It's how we get written."

Chloe flopped her other hand on top of Max's. "Even the bad stuff, huh?"

Max nodded.

Chloe saw something else in her expression, but it was gone in a blink. Don't pull.

Chloe absently felt along the edge of the table with her free hand. Someone's initials, carved. "I get it. You're right. Look, maybe these feelings are just…a glitch in my Matrix. Wouldn't be the first time. I have manual control over basic things in there I maybe shouldn't, and I don't know. Tinkering, tuning. Whatever.

"But it seems to me, if there's a version of us out there somewhere in time with all these answers, it would be really fucking great if we dropped the bullshit and laid it out for us. Told us what to do, or at the bare minimum, why. Instead of dancing around leaving all these tiny, unclaimed breadcrumbs. All I'm sayin'. There's too much - it's too important to play all mysterious. And I feel like we're still only scratching the surface of the big picture out there. And even assuming they have pure intentions up ahead, what if we fuck it up? What if I fuck it up? And what if you can't take it back after? Am I way off the grid here? You do see where I'm coming from with this, right?"

Max nodded, her eyes attentive. "I do. I understand you. I can't give you absolutes. For me, it's like, when I'm in my best, most centered frame of mind, I try to see the journey as the journey. Maybe it's a curse or luxury of a little more time and experience, or maybe I've grown more comfortable with ambiguity over the years. Even the last branch - as heartbreakingly shit as that was sometimes, and…as much of that as I'd cut from…even my own past…part of me knows it was necessary to go through, as we did, to get us where we are - as exactly who we are. For better or worse. Without the walk, the bumps, the scares, all that wonder and beauty - we don't ever become. So how could we hope to influence anyone else to do the same? Pushing through our fears, and the empathy that brings - it matters. How could any of the good we're trying to achieve come to be without that?"

Chloe tried again to picture them together, what they'd be like. Off somewhere in deep time. Couldn't. Frustrating. Always came back to some…imagined version of OtherChloe, out there on her own. Failure of imagination… "What do you think they talk about in the mornings? Over Future-bacon and Space-waffles or whatever?"

Max smiled. "They still have to be as silly and dumb as we are sometimes. Don't they?"

Chloe rested her head on her arm, both on the table. "God, I hope so. Just knowing that for sure would be enough. Swear. Would help me feel so much more connected to them. But…I'd still love to be a fly on their whiteboards for a day."

"Hmmm." Max pondered. "You think they'll use whiteboards? And not some kinda seven-dimensional organic holograms made of ghost-bees or something? Look, I'm not sure we have any relevant frame of reference for understanding what they might be, honestly. Depending on how far. I mostly have to picture them pretty much exactly like us, just a little more down the road. That's my instinct. But…I don't know.

"I think, if we were looking back at us…if they're looking back at us…they're probably trying to be helpful, while preserving certain elements of their own past, present, and future. Maybe curating their own experience a little. Through us. Maybe that's worth something too. Even a little inconvenience or worry for you and me now and again. Pretty sure we owe them. And I don't know if there are limits to how much we can interfere with ourselves and our own history and our own…identity and person-ness before time becomes a closed loop. Back to what you said earlier about chickens and eggs, I think any sense of objective causality might be less obvious from our limited viewpoint here."

"It's a 4-d thing. You know…with some waves." Chloe stuck out her tongue.

"See? And with other worlds, objects in higher spaces. We can't know what complications they need to work around. Or what might be impossible to change." Max brushed the hair from Chloe's face.

Tired. "Yeah. I need this sugar to kick in."

Max nodded. "We were out late. I'm hitting post-lunch-pre-tea coma territory myself, but, I mean…there is such a thing as paradox-free timeline integrity to maintain. That alone…gotta give 'em benefit of the doubt for that at least."

Chloe lifted her head. "Cheater. OtherChloe gave you that paradox integrity speech… But, you guys were fighting about a time-traveling microwave that cooked food before you put it in? You know that wouldn't ever really—"

Max grinned. "Heh. Oh man, that was so… Standing tachyon waves. We argued about that for weeks. I was so convinced they could be real. Totally forgot. Funny. Look, closing the loop…no pun…I'm not saying you should let go of this part of you that wants everything solved. Or that needs control. I know you can't. And you shouldn't. The answers to the questions are important. But you know your brain as well as I do. And as awesome as it is, and as you are, you know that your level of curiosity, focus and drive to 'know' come with natural tensions too. It's part of how you work. So knowing that, maybe, try to change it up a little, so you don't irritate yourself as much along the way? Soft styles for a while instead of hard? Let go a little? Try to flow with the universe instead of against it? Something. You should join me on the roof some morning for Tai Chi. Might help."

"Maybe for chai tea."

"Puny."

Chloe flopped her head back on her arm. Voice slower. "No, see - I tried tai chi with you once before. Didn't do anything then, won't now. It's like piano for me. You know? I have the mechanics down. Every nuance, every timing, every movement is technically perfect. I can simulate the subtleties of any of the old masters. But…that's not really mine. Don't get the same kinds of feelings off it that you do."

Max paused. "Maybe you should forget? Can you…cordon it off somehow? Is it possible?"

"Maybe? Why?"

"Then you could try to learn it again, but from scratch this time? Make it more yours? Least to start?"

Interesting. "You think the 'feeling' part might depend on the long, boring-ass process of learning shit the hard way?" Chloe laughed.

Max smiled. Squeezed. "Doesn't seem like it came from waking up one day with the textbook-perfect technique of thousands of other virtuosos, does it? You're not a music box with different scrolls to swap out, Chlo, you're a person. Maybe you need to find your own voice. There are deeper lessons in the struggles. In trying. Failing. Connecting the dots yourself. Applying the discipline necessary to stick with something until you master it. It's a longer road, with plenty of downtime for introspection along the way. Was for me, anyway. Might be worth a shot? Experiment, at least? You'll learn faster cause you're you. And then, you could reclaim your ultimate technical perfection after you feel like you have your own basic feels down. Maybe that's a kind of, I don't know, middle-ground?"

Sneaky. Chloe raised her head again, squinted. "I feel like you're working up to some sort of parallel here."

"Busted." Max chuckled. Drummed fingers on her cup. "Three parallels, actually. Maybe…it's not the same if somebody hands it to us. Like we don't know it in the same way. Doing something ourselves adds meaning. But it also comes with frustration and uncertainty and probably requires a little motivating fear, too. You know more about brain rewiring than I ever will. But you're Chloe Price. You don't need FutureUs to hand anything to you. You never have."

Chloe held back a smile at her trap. "I feel like this is at odds with the whole 'interference patterns, accept your gifts and roll with it' thing? …what happened to 'trust us'?" She nibbled triumphantly on her remaining brownie wreckage.

Max stared off into space. "Come on. You're capable of reconciling contradictory truths. And I do trust. All of us, wherever." Returned attention to Chloe. "But that's only cause I trust you. And me. Here. Now. Maybe it's like, a hybrid between what you said and something Sophie bounced off me last weekend. We determine who we become - partly by choosing what difficulties, failures or triumphs we put ourselves through. And partly by deciding what of that we focus on or let stick.

"If that's remotely true, then our chosen versions of 'us' are already out there ahead somewhere. Helping when they can. Gifts. Pointers. And maybe even hanging back a lot of the time, even when it sucks for us here. Cause we need it. You know? We haven't been perfect always, but I know with everything I am that you and I will never intentionally let each other down. Never give up on each other. So I have to extend that trust to them. They are you and me. And I'm sure that's why they leave room for us to work things out on our own too. Just like we need to do with everyone else in the world. All over again.

"It's not a 'fuck you' from the future, Chlo. We would never, ever feel that way. It's a measure of trust. And maybe it's also what it takes to allow them to come to exist as they are, where and when they are. They trust us to solve these mysteries. So we have to solve them. They know we can do it. It has to be part of their plan. Just like our plans for everyone else. Sometimes they can find a way to help, and we should trust that. And other times, they have to know it's necessary for us to stress over it too if we're to become more than we are. To become them. That's our pattern. That's the only answer that makes any sense to me."

The sky above darkened to purples. A chill picked up.

Time to get going soon.

"I…know, Max. Maybe you're right… Evolution and diamonds and pressure and all. I feel like I've taken us down this same kind of rathole a few times. So…thanks for working through shit with me. Again. Always humbling and a little scary how much faith you put in me. And maybe a part of me fights against that for, you know, legacy reasons. I love how patient you are though. It means a lot to me. Always has. And sometimes, you know, I really envy how confident you are that we've got everything under control.

"There are moments, like last night, when I feel it too - so strong. Halfway to the next galaxy? Like, the fuck? There's no metric. For real - how could anything get in our way, right? And…then here we are, half a day later. I'm mildly aggravated at stupid shit, irritated by decisions I'll apparently make in the future, worried we might be headed straight downhill, picking up speed, and the wheels are coming off again."

Max gave Chloe a dismissive air-smack. Pushed back, stood up. "Those things aren't necessarily mutually exclusive, babe. Contradictions. I think it…I think all of this can also feel super unreal and abstract sometimes. It sounds like sci-fi nonsense to say stuff like this out loud - it's not normal-people conversation." She laughed. "And…we all have our moments. But little secret, I don't have questions about you. Trust has never been about faith in that way; I know you. I've always known you. It's what allows me to have confidence in your intentions. It's why I'd trust my life to any version of Chloe Price out there. Hundred percent."

"Aw. Trying to make me rust?" Chloe pushed back, fake dabbed at her eyes.

"Shutup. No, it's like, same reason we know the world can fix themselves. We watched them do it once already. We're only here to make sure the evil empire doesn't force them to endure centuries of godawful fucking horror to get there. I know everything will be okay, Chlo. And I don't think feeling like we're in total control all the time is necessary to get where we're going. It might even prevent it. Foreknowledge can alter the future. I know it's a different feeling for you. And it's okay.

"I see it like there's this silent partnership between who we were, and us now, and who we become. All working for the same thing. That's so super-comforting to me in nearly every way."

Chloe dropped her head. Looked up at Max. "Tell me a story before we bail. Tell me how you see them? Make me believe it?" She smiled. Another old game.

Max came around to Chloe's side of the table. Held out her hand, pulling Chloe up. Led her partway to the central fountain. She stopped, turned, and pulled Chloe into a lingering hug, almost like a slow dance. Whispered in her ear, "Okay. It's like, somewhere out ahead of us, there are these two beautiful, badass idiots, and they're the ones - you know? They're the absolute best we will ever, ever be. You and me at the end of time. The smartest, the kindest, wisest, most powerful of us - with all the knowledge we'll ever accumulate or could ever understand. With all the love we could ever contain." Max pulled back, her eyes finding Chloe's. "They're real, Chloe. And even as we struggle here, fighting to understand, fighting to keep everyone else out of the darkness - with who knows how many horrible dangers waiting - they're out there somewhere too. And they're aware of everything. Watching over all of us. And they won't let us fail, because we wouldn't let us fail.

"So…if we ever get into real trouble, like the kind that we can't handle - that's who's got our backs. They're the ones looking out for us. Like we are for others. Not doing everything for us, but, there, you know?" Max leaned into her again. "I'm okay letting go of the wheel now and again. Control. I know you fight it, and you know, with OtherChloe out there, and we've talked about all that. But I hope you can take away a little of that same hope I feel, at least. No matter what, believe we can do this, babe. If only you could see 'her' too; that beautiful idiot I see growing inside you."

Chloe broke the hug, stuck out her tongue.

Max laughed, "But for reals, Chlo, when I look at you, I see the best of us. Always have."

She met Max's eyes. Felt a chill.

Just the cold.

Chloe stuck her hands in her pockets. "Yeah. Well…when you put it like that…maybe makes me a little less annoyed at future us, I suppose."

Max locked arms with Chloe. "Help at all?"

"Oh, yeah. Wasn't a crisis, I just…yeah. Annoyed. Questioning. Little…light cafe conversation and shit. Post-taco chat?"

Max grinned. "Tacocat!"

"Don't be palindromatic." Chloe closed her eyes.

Max turned, pulled away from her. "Ugh. I'm so gonna leave you here."

Chloe laughed, pulled her back. "Sometimes…sometimes I think you might be good for me after all."

"Ya think?" Max scoffed, made a funny-face.

I really do. "It's funny too, though, you know?"

"What?"

"Reminds me…how different we can be."

"Like how? Besides the obvious." Max saw a trashcan, threw her empty cup, heading for a miss.

Chloe gave it a slight mid-air redirect at the last second, landing it in the bin. "I don't know, just like…when you hurt or get upset, you retreat. Go looking for space. When I get worried or upset, I look for you."

Max winced. "Ouch."

Chloe put her arm around Max's shoulder. "No, not like that - not a criticism. Observation. You need solitude to process. I mostly need your help to stop. We're different, but I think we balance each other. There's usually food too. Drink. Usually? So that's always good." Lighten things up.

Max, head down, "Does it make you sad though? That I don't always—"

Chloe held her tongue, gave her a quick, dismissive head shake. "No. Not anymore. I think it used to, but I usually know better. I don't know - guess I'm thankful I can always find you when I need you. You're like…that chirpy little voice outside my head." She laughed.

Max smiled. Lips parted. "Right here. Always. Stuck to you like a happy, sticky frog."

"Okay. That's just…weird."

"You're weird…what? I mean, you're the one hearing voices outside your head."

"That's…you know those are…other people…I don't know why I bother. I'm done talking to you." Chloe let go, walked ahead. The gardens around them became a dense, steamy jungle. A noisy river divided the rocks, blocking her path forward. She kept going anyway.

"…ribit."

Behind her.

Chloe cracked a smile. "Freaky little goofball - catch up! Take a wrong turn? Where are we?"

Max plowed into her from behind, wrapping arms around her waist. Circled to the front, stalling her momentum, blocking her from the river. Max pushed up on her toes, arms around Chloe's neck. Winked, leaned in, closed her eyes to give Chloe a proper kiss.

Lip mashing. Mmmm.

Like tea and brownie, only with…like…lip mashing.

Mmmm.

When Chloe opened her eyes, they were back on the 8th floor of a mid-rise in downtown Brooklyn.

Max took her side, linked arms as they continued toward the equipment racks. Finally said, "But I'm your goofball. You know that?"

Chloe squeezed her. Grabbed the blinking drive, stuck it in her pocket. "Time delay. And whatever, chai-breath."

"Oh my god, sorry. Oops. I can totally rewind it!"

"Don't. Who knows how critical that chai-kiss was to making us who we'll need to be tomorrow?"

"You jerk!" Max swatted at her. "But I love you anyway." Hugged her waist tighter. "Alright. So we fed and watered The Chloe. Did a data-dump. Got all hopped up on sugar. Next stop. Where's this mythical junkyard of yours?"

---

Emily chewed on the back of her pencil. Its rubber eraser was severed, long gone, the metal end bitten and crimped flat. Sharp. Familiar. Coppery in her mouth. She didn't hate it.

The lines on paper were sharp, clean. She could tell that much. But the subject fought with itself. Scenes jumping around on the page. Not really, but…maybe it was time for another nicotine half-patch.

Left shoulder this time.

Didn't want to repeat the jittery burn in her drawing-arm.

No music in her dorm room tonight. It was late. She was sleepy. There was no lights-out policy, not when they were working. But her door remained locked from outside.

She didn't know what it would be. Never did until after she finished. The paper was where it happened, not her mind's eye. But while they were still in progress, she experienced something akin to recognition-blindness. She had a feel for the quality, her confidence. Skill. But rarely the content.

Couldn't tell.

The sudden loud click startled her.

She jerked her head up. The door. The light on the card panel was green!

Another test?

Another trap?

Or?

She glanced up at the cameras.

Red lights were off.

That never happened.

Curious, cautious, she stepped into her slip-on shoes without pausing. Crept to the door. Tested the cold metal handle. Unlatched!

She opened it, poked her head through the crack. Scanned both directions along the dark, wood-paneled corridor. Camera lights were off in the hall too. Outside, to her left, Mira and Jason were already out of their rooms, crouched together under the ornate side-table with its stupid, nailed-down vase of weird, perpetually fresh flowers.

It was only the three of them. Mira was oldest. She waved Emily over. Same white hospital scrubs, slip-ons. It's all Emily had worn in the two or three years she'd been here. Easy to lose track.

Emily shrugged. Mouthed, "What are you doing?"

Jason joined Mira in rapid, silent 'come here' waves.

Emily shook her head, whispered, "No." Last time, they never made it past the hall. Got their music taken away and rations reduced for two weeks as punishment for leaving their rooms. She wasn't anxious to get in trouble again. 'An open door is no excuse for disobedience,' they said.

Mira rolled her eyes in an exaggerated huff. Pulled Jason across the hall with her. Grabbed Emily's arm. "Come on!"

Emily pulled back. "No. It'll be worse this time."

Another loud click startled all three of them. They dropped. The clicking continued, a pattern. Insistent. Beckoning.

"Look," Jason pointed to the end of the hall.

Exit door to the stairwell. The LED on the card panel pulsed green.

Jason raced down the hall, opened the door, disappeared from view for a moment. Opened it again, staying low. Excited, motioned for them to follow.

Mira pulled her. "Come on, Em. We have to."

She didn't trust it.

But if there's a chance to escape?

To go home?

---

Max reached into her coat pocket, pulled out her glasses.

"No light show," said Chloe, turning to cross the road. "Sorry. All the cameras point out to the street, and nothing's covering the yard. Other than the low-res black and white on the register. Part of why I wanted to come down to this one. Digital trail stops at the front gate."

Max slid the glasses back in their protective case. Hopped off the curb to follow.

The meager blanket of snow couldn't quite manage to erase the contrast, the centuries of grime below the surface that proclaimed they were in a very different part of New York. Industrial. Old, brick warehouses. Black soot and cold grease. Each block was an island, a compound, isolated from the streets by tall surrounding walls of corrugated metal, stone or brick. For most properties, the only perimeter breach was a small door or unmarked rolling section along one of the four adjacent streets.

Chloe gave voice to Max's wandering thoughts. "Shit reminds me of Kansas. Few of those tiny, untouched farm towns. 'Member? Trying to wall themselves off from the riffraff."

Daylight fit the memory. With no structures around them more than two stories high, the low, featureless grey clouds felt somehow more oppressive, despite the brighter, more open skybox.

Max avoided stepping in the iced-over pothole the second time across. "We were the riffraff once. And yeah. That didn't ever really go their way, did it? Least Kansas was pretty. There's just nothing living here. Not a single shred of green. No plants. Trees. Not even weeds."

"And yet, somehow, it manages to smell like a ripe, floral decay." Chloe stopped on the sidewalk, midpoint of the block. The only open space between the haphazard lines of parked cars going off in both directions. Faint outlines of faded signage marked the wall ahead as a gateway. What little pigment remained was an unhealthy shade of yellow over pale blue.

Max wasn't sure how people were supposed to get in. "See a buzzer anywhere?"

"Do we care?" Chloe shrugged.

Max caught up, touched Chloe's shoulder. "Oh. Yeah." Smiled. "Knock yourself out, babe."

Chloe pushed the gate sideways. Too much force. Came off its track with a shuddering clatter. "Downside of keeping to the DL all the time. Don't get to practice in the real world much, or cut loose in the open without looking over our shoulders at least. You know?"

"Yep. After you."

Chloe bowed, gestured for Max to proceed across the entryway. "Princess? You have my persimmons. After you, please."

"Tempting. I like persimmons." Max stood firm. Gestured ahead. "But after you. I insist."

"No, no. You should go."

Chloe could be stubborn. Max relented. "Fine. I'll go. Be here for weeks." Careful not to trip over the beaten metal track, Max entered the yard.

Ahead, an open, rectangular courtyard. A gigantic orange shredder and a black car crusher hunkered side by side at the far end. The ground was an uneven mix of broken tarmac, oily dirt, and frozen slurry. To the left, uncrushed cars stacked three high, forming a long wall. To the right, rusted lifts held suspended engines, transmissions, and other commonly salvaged parts, stripped, cleaned, and oiled for easy sale. Beyond, a ramshackle mobile office, with corner steps leading to the door. Elsewhere, as far as the eye could see, stacks of cars, some crushed flat, some not, forming walls, mazes, extending in all directions to the outer walls.

Max started toward the office.

"No one home," called Chloe.

A frantic scrabbling as two enormous dark blurs tore out from under the corner of the office trailer, ran full tilt for Max from only steps away. The first, somewhere between a Rottweiler and a great dane, leapt. A fast, oncoming train of black and brown and open mouth and flashing teeth. All its weight hit square in her shoulders, pushing her to the ground, splashing, knocking the air from her lungs. The second dog ran in low from the right, both went straight for her face, furiously licking. Energetic stubs led ghost tails and dog-butts in a wild chase from side to side.

Max screamed, face wet with slobber. "Gah! Stahp! Halp?!" Rising giggles.

Upside-down Chloe was almost to her. Dogs paid no attention.

Big sloppy tongues painted Max's throat and cheeks. "Ahhhhh! Pfffft! Hehehe!"

"Some watchdogs you guys turned out to be. Get her!" Chloe came in next to Max, put her hand down, laughing.

Max took it.

As Chloe lifted her up, the doggos stepped off, happy-barking. Continued excitedly pressing in, jumping, body-slamming, trying to lick her in mid-air. Big, open dog-smiles.

"Sorry. Didn't know they were there."

Max put her arms out, spun. "It's okay. I wanted greasy dog-print designs all over my jacket anyway." She slowed. "Okay, guys. I like you too. Come on. Calm. Down. No - down. Good doggies. Who's the big doggie? Who? Is it you? Or you?"

She and Chloe hadn't spent too much time around dogs in their younger lives. But much later, out in the wilds, they tended to attract strays. Most of them were, back then. A few of them stayed, sharing trails and shelters. Some for years. They were always partial to Max.

"Good dogs." They kept to the ground but followed Max, happy, waggy. Had collars, but weren't chained up or anything. Max checked them over. Well fed. Clean water by the trailer. Could use some extra food out. Sleep areas were raised and covered, with beds of thick blankets. No scars or signs of abuse. The smaller of the two was nowhere near 'small.' Something big and furry mixed with pit bull. Had that jaw, massive skull. All relative. Max glanced back at the gate, rustled him between his ears. "We should prolly…" Gestured with her eyes.

From a distance, Chloe lifted the gate back on its tracks, closed it.

Two hummingbird drones finally caught up overhead, slowing from their supersonic trip across the city and river. Hovered. Chloe sent them off to circle.

"Now that we have our bodyguards and tour guides, what are we looking for?" Max was once again knocked aside as the rottie pressed between her and Chloe, panting fog. "Hey." He weighed way more than she did. Could prolly ride him like a horse.

Chloe might have had the same thought. Grinning, she pointed to the back-left corner of the block. "Thataway." She guided them through the light maze of cars.

Their drooly new friends went along for the walk. One stationed between them, while the other ran ahead and back, ahead and back, anticipating corners. Every few trips, they'd swap places.

"Such dogs. Much wow." Max amused herself with the old ref.

Caught Chloe rolling her eyes.

They made their way to the back corner.

Chloe pointed at a crushed van, stacked on top of a few others. "There. That's the one."

It was dark against the sky, squished. Hard to see anything meaningful. "What are you hoping to find?"

Chloe clambered up the opposite wall of cars to get a better view. "Hang on." One of the drones swooped in, hovered on the far side of the flattened vehicle to give her the full 360.

The accordioned steel skin groaned and popped as Chloe pulled and pushed from afar, lifting it back into a semblance of not-accordion. Shedding snow with each movement. The metal tore in a few places. Wasn't even close to van-shaped, all mangled and bent. Couple of feet taller when she stopped. Close enough that Chloe seemed satisfied. Hopped down.

"Here. Pickle-up, Max. You'll see."

Max rose a dozen feet into the air, drifted close to the ex-van. Bullet holes, all jagged. Dried blood on the floor track, hastily wiped. Their logo, wrinkled, stenciled onto the lower part of the door. "Dude. What the fuck? We don't even have vans."

One of the dogs barked up at Max. Jumped.

She dropped, landing with her hand behind his ears, scratching.

He set his butt down, wagging out a dog-butt-angel in the mud.

Chloe leaned against a junker. "Yeah. Right? I noticed it in the last mile of clear video. Wanted to get a firsthand look at how they put it on. If it was a sticker or what. Chase the source. And catch some blood samples. Casings, usual CSI shit."

"What's your takeaway from all this?"

Chloe crossed her arms, closed her eyes. "Hang on. Last piece…wow. Okay. Shit. Sorry. Just found the owner's body. Of the junkyard. Dead in his bathroom. Staged to look like a suicide."

"Oh man. That sucks." Max frowned, dropped down to a crouch. Tried to get her arms around the rottie. "Poor pups."

"Yeah. Still a shady dude with a petty, semi-criminal enterprise, but…looking at history, social, he seemed like an okay person. No violence or abuse, nothing too bad. Even treated his junkyard noisemakers like family. Did business with the wrong peeps is all."

I'm sure we're both thinking it. Max stood, leaned against a bumper. "If we weren't ditching this timeline, I'd make a side-trip. For the sake of these two, if nothing else."

"Yeah. Be good to follow another perp backward from that dude, too."

"Alright, Chloe - let me take a shot at diagramming then. For fun?"

"M'kay."

"We'll start with Juliet. Somebody wanted her kidnapped or dead, but…in a public way, while using our logo. That all sounds like 'two birds with one stone' thinking to me. Shutting Juliet up, so what, so she couldn't publicly object to the content of the opening articles, maybe? But in such a way that the blame for her abduction or murder or whatever they had planned fell on us. We'd appear to have a simple motive. Mobile videos of the abduction get posted, private army in action, logo, there we are, lookin' all guilty, adds fuel to the fire, confirming the worst suspicions about us, cementing our threat profile, blah blah? Close?"

Chloe nodded. "Make a private dick out of you yet. Dudes I've been able to follow from the first group; ones they left behind, plus the fingerprints and blood-work here, all dead men. KIAs overseas, that sort of shit. Obvious profile points back to our little-b bad-guy pals. You're only through half the picture so far though."

"The interlopers. Outerlopers? Inner-outerlopers?"

"I followed their trail of video artifacts til the edits cleared. Got a direct eyeball on 'em. They all went straight for hospitals with their wounded." Chloe pointed back toward the entrance, started back through the maze.

Max followed, their escorts taking formation. "That's different behavior than the first guys. They seemed content to leave their teammates dead on the ground."

"It tracks. Worked back. Turns out, the ones who ran up on the first dudes, they're all licensed private security. Mainly ex-military, some off-duty cops, but working for a big security firm here in New York. They're legit, or at least out in the open."

Max stepped over a pothole. "Begs the follow-up. Who hired them? And why?"

Chloe smiled, tapped her temple. "Grape mimes. Cracked the security company's servers. No surprise, they were hired to protect Juliet. Only, last Friday - before the first Journal stories even posted. Decent retainer, deal done over email, with funds wired from a well-constructed shell - like, one with years of bookwork, tax records, website. That was Brooklyn. Was supposed to be their office, but…obviously, snarfy relay racks, and no one's been in or out in pretty much ever. The source account was fed by inbound micro-transactions from random credit cards over the last few years, so there's no obvious trail leading away from there. Ghosty."

Max slowed. "Okay, so someone hires guardian angels for Juliet in advance, for the same morning the stories hit, and that same morning, a hit squad shows up for her. Given the circumstances, that implies some level of prior knowledge, either through hacked internal stuff at the Journal, loose lips somewhere in bad-guy land, or through our variety of timey-wimey stuffs."

Chloe nodded. "Yep. And don't forget burner-hander-offer-dude. Hired on one of those small-task websites. Rando, but clean. And after, when these two highly trained forces crash into each other, it's loud, but it's also over in seconds. Original dudes disperse, and we're on to new peeps, showing up in different locations along her path. Whoever sent her that phone had eyes on her. Stepped in remotely and guided Juliet to safety, while erasing any evidence of the encounter, but leaving us these breadcrumbs so we'd understand what was going on. You know. Probably." Chloe pulled Max ahead.

They were back to the courtyard.

Max stopped.

Pups circled.

"So the bad-guy plan goes sidewise with the 'lopers, and they pull back on the false-flag signals, which is how the van ended up here, all squarshed and such?"

Chloe nodded. "Right. Cause, they realize if the footage gets out, there's an insta-manhunt for Juliet, and with our logo on the perp-van, we inevitably take a direct interest and jump in for real to do our thing. So that busts their evil plan with the prospect of a head-to-head with us, which doesn't work for them, not over something that's probably just a small piece. Instead, they ditch the van - or vans, I guess. Different places. Take out the people working, kill those trails. Keep the whole thing quiet, so they don't raise our attention or give away their next thing?"

The erasing thing made sense for both sides for different reasons though. "Chlo, with the last, are we sure the erasure stuff isn't just them covering tracks? Are we reading too much into the whole artifact trail thing?"

"I'd have to articulate in English exactly how difficult it would be for someone who isn't like me to do what was done. I mean, hackers with nation-state sponsored tools and big compute resources…maybe? Anything's possible. Could be other factions of bad-guys with different opinions about all of this - I mean, it's a whole new can of worms if we start thinking about open divisions showing up in their ranks. But maybe that's inevitable given our recent exchange of offers and ultimatums. And if that's the way it breaks - could still be that they made assumptions and someone on their team wanted us to see, or…I don't know. Yeah, I have to admit to the possibility that I'm reading into the patterns and timing, given that thought. I can't tell you exactly why I believe that's not the case though. Fuzzy instincts. I could still be wrong."

"Okay, Chlo. So is it you? Is it us? Or some rogue element of them who's either had a change of heart or difference of opinion? Or, as Jeremy is so fond of asking, are we looking at a wildcard? And what's the deal with the racks and trunk taps and stuff?"

"I don't know, Max. I know the answers matter in this timeline, but I don't have them all yet. I mean, if nothing else, least we confirmed that some flavor of them is involved in this campaign against us, and it isn't just a media flare-up. That seems like the main thing you were after and…it's all kinda moot anyway with the impending undo button, yeah?"

"Yeah. Guess you're right. Speaking of. I think I've got enough to call it. Do you have a cube on you?"

"Why? You're rubber-banding for a note-reset, not a rewind?"

"Yeah. I know. But something you said earlier kinda gave me an idea. I just wanna try something. Might not work."

"Uh? Oh. I think I know what part you mean…interesting. Yeah. I mean, holy shit, dude. That's freakin' obvious."

"You think it'll work then?"

"I don't see why not. Only applies in these very narrow circumstances, but I feel kinda stupid for not seeing it sooner, honestly. Guess I have been preoccupied lately. Damn. It's almost like they combined a nudge with 'here - you guys figure it out,' all in one move." Chloe pulled a glowing cube from her jacket pocket, pinched between two fingers. Held it.

Max held out her hand, palm up. "Right? Like maybe they're giving us benefit of the doubt?"

"Yeah, yeah. I see what you did there. You'll have to be super-super-extra careful though - doubles the risk. I mean, when, do you think?"

"More when and where. No added risk. Let's say Margaretville is maybe a little more safely isolated than I may have previously let on?"

"Okay. Yeah, I had a suspicion after the whole 'it's complicated' thing that first day, back at S-6. Figured you'd get around to sharing, or not. That's a good option. Although that confirmation repeats a whole list of questions about FutureUs we never answered post-Lombard - especially about the limits of your mobility. Maybe you're right. With your whole thing about them. They may be a lot simpler than I'm twisting them up to be." Once finished, Chloe dropped the cube in Max's hand. "There are some pretty freaky-ass implications though…"

Max held her breath. "Yeah. Occurred to me too. If it works, we'll continue this conversation after the jump." Max crouched to give the doggies hugs goodbye. Looked back over her shoulder at Chloe. "Oh, and I just remembered - what was the deal with Juliet's other texts? We ever figure those out?"

Chloe leaned against the crusher, arms and ankles crossed. "Nope. I think if we were gonna keep this branch alive, we'd prolly wanna try to wrangle this Alex chick next, see what's what? But…no need now."

"Okay. Moot."

"Moot."

"Mooooooot."

"Mmmoooooot."

Dogs barked.

"Weirdo. Love you to pieces, Chlo." Max rose up.

"You too. Here's hoping this ends it, and in another minute, we'll be laughing about the bullet we just dodged. Preferably over more food? Somewhere warmer?"

"That's the plan. Now gimmie kiss."

Chloe leaned in. Max kissed her, dogs barking in the background.

"See you in a few, love."

Chloe nodded, bit her lower lip. "We'll see." Kept her eyes closed.

---

Max left her. The grey sky, the biting cold, gone. She folded backward and outward to their private sleeping quarters. A quiet, out-of-the-way hemisphere inside their Luna fort. Insulated from all futures by a hundred-and-eighty-million solar orbits.

She set Chloe's cube on the side-table. Only way to know.

Should I say hi to Margaret? No, I'll only be a sec. Catch her on the return trip.

She returned to the Terrarium, an instant after leaving Chloe behind in the Bronx.

The interview seemed like forever ago. She thought back, looking for a good, clean entry point.

Could go all the way back to the first time Jillian mentioned it. After New Year's? Nah. Keep the ripples close as possible, and as small as you can.

I'm not sure there's a good time. Not in the weeks leading up, for sure. We were all kinds of fucked up about the Gaiacidal implications out of S-6. Tail end is prolly the least bad; don't want to pile on our worries with new questions about a sudden, unrelated reboot.

Jumping into a period of sleep was less complicated all around. Minimized chances of running into other people, or creating unintended spoilers or changes. Reduced the inconvenience of interrupting herself and whatever else she might have been doing at the time, were she awake.

But even in the days before the interview, she wasn't sleeping. Always had trouble when Chloe wasn't there. And with her down in her lab, overwhelmed, wrapping her mind around The Device and the complicated mechanics of building the machine designed to fix it, she wasn't home with Max all that much.

Always exceptions to the sleep-jump-guideline and this jump probably qualified. Not much choice.

She checked her phone's calendar, an informal back-look at events.

Shit. Interview day's all Calendar Tetris too.

Might be a window between the time I got back from Jeremy's Roscosmos job and checking the morning emails - and oh, right, running into that Gabriel dude with Emo in the living room – same day. Aaand the quick trip back to Margaret from there, before...maybe after all that is better? Still pretty compressed. Showers, seeing to the place settings and prep, and then they were there. Damn. That's too late. They'd be on the way.

Maybe while I was checking messages? Before Gabriel? It was only a few minutes. I was at the holo, practically nodding off anyway. Jump in quick, leave a post-it right on the desk? Or…my forehead. Whatevs. Then back?

She knew her handwriting. Safest bet. She didn't recall looking in their analog message box that morning.

Okay then.

She sat at the edge of the koi pool. Orange ripples, fishtails. Closed her eyes. Pictured the scene, the morning. Herself at the terminal. Maybe just before I opened the app?

She centered. Jumped back.

She was back at her desk, exhausted. Sleep deprived. Holo was on. Be quick. She checked the drawer, but there we no post-its. She ran out to their bedroom, pulled a notepad and pen from the stack next to the note-box. Scratched out a quick 'don't do the interview' message, added her origin date in the corner, Feb 18th, 2016. No other forward-looking detail. I was on the fence about retro-canceling, even during the interview. Small push will be good enough.

She ran back to her office. Taped the note over the haptic emitter at the top left corner of her desk. Can't miss that. Won't work 'til I move it. Later PastMax. Hope you take a longer nap in the sun today.

Satisfied, she jumped back to her body in a slightly altered future. Just like she had a thousand times before.