JUNK
Epilogue
Later, in Ray's flat, over a bottle of Chardonnay, a certain pair of CI5 operatives decided not to mention time travel to Cowley. "We can play dumb," said Bodie.
"Who's playin'?" said Ray.
"Good question," said Al.
"When the real Luther comes back," asked Bodie, "will he remember any of this?"
"He wasn't here, so he won't have anything to remember." Sam hesitated. "Um, he probably won't remember much about where he's been, either."
"Where has he been?" Sam just smiled. Bodie sighed. He hadn't really expected an answer. "Well where have we been? Are we going to forget all about this?"
"Why would you?" Sam was honestly confused. Bodie shook his head and poured himself another glass. Al looked wistful. He liked Chardonnay. "Look, we all know that no one would believe any of this, and you don't want to jeopardize your careers. Too many people are depending on you. But that doesn't mean you have to forget." Now it was Sam's turn to look wistful. "Most people I meet don't know I exist. They see only who they think I am. Maybe I wouldn't mind being remembered, just a little bit, as me."
Ray thought about this. "It is possible," he said, slowly, "that we will not want to believe this in a little while. We like to think of ourselves as rational beings. We like explanations. We like logic. We can't do our jobs without these things. In a few days, we may tell ourselves, we may tell each other, I don't know, almost anything to explain away all this so that we don't have to think we've gone mad."
"Mass hallucination," offered Bodie.
"You don't really believe that though?"
"Let them, Sam. It's better if they don't believe you."
Sam sighed.
Suddenly Bodie put down his glass and sprang restlessly to his feet. He went to the kitchen window and peered out into the street, where he could see nothing at all. "Evil," he said, quite clearly. "So much evil out there."
"You know," offered Sam, "I got myself into this time-travel thing by accident. Well almost by accident anyway. I've been sent all over the place, all over several decades, and I've met an awful lot of people. Sure I've seen evil, but you know what? Most of the people I meet are good, decent folks. Some of them are screwed up. Some of them are in trouble they made for themselves, or trouble that was made for them, but most of the time there's no villain. Most of the time there's no evil. It's just people, you know?" He preferred light beer to Chardonnay but he sipped at the latter and added, thoughtfully, "I know that's not your experience of it. You're trained to deal with extremely rough situations and extremely rough people. I understand that. I'm glad I'm not in your position, but I do understand it."
Bodie didn't turn. His voice was low. "I could've killed you."
"But you didn't."
"So what do time travelers do," asked Ray, changing the subject quickly, "when their missions are complete?"
"Oh, Sam," said Al. "Now let's not get into that plural stuff."
"I don't know any other time travelers," lied Sam. "I can only speak for myself, and what happens to me is, well, it's not entirely in my control when I leap out..."
"Leap?"
"Leap," said Al.
"Take care of Luther," said Sam. "He's a good kid but he needs help getting straight. I know it's not your job, but..."
"It could be," mused Ray.
"Buh-bye, Sam," said Al, waggling his fingers in and out of the blue glow. "Buh-bye, Bo Didley Squat. Buh-bye, D'Oyley Carte."
"Make him finish school!" cried Sam, leaping out.
THE END