Ash slowed to let them move past. They irritated him for reasons he couldn’t name. Maybe it was that they clearly had money, or maybe it was just that they were obnoxious but not obnoxious enough to start a fight with.
They were just . . . happy.
Ash watched them, every muscle in his body wound tight. Their voices faded as they walked down the dock and, when they were gone, he pushed through the door of the bar they’d just come out of without bothering to glance at the sign hanging over it.
It was dark inside, with black walls and stainless-steel countertops and black leather barstools. There was a television above the bar, but it wasn’t turned on.
A crowd of people milled around the cramped space, shoulder to shoulder in the dark. He thought he saw one or two look his way, but he didn’t have the energy to worry about whether they’d recognized him or if they’d been Black Cirkus sympathizers before the mega-quake.
Before the Professor had disappeared, he and his time travelers had been a bit . . . controversial.
Some thought the Professor was a genius, the future of science and technology.
Others thought he was an out-of-touch intellectual, content to let the world around him fall to ruins while he focused on his books and experiments.
Neither side was entirely wrong.
Ash wove through the small, crowded room, keeping his head ducked, and found an empty stool near the bar.
A bartender appeared before him, staring for a beat too long before asking, in a resigned voice, “What do you want?”
“Beer?” Ash said, his eyes going wide as he read the chalkboard menu behind the bartender’s head. “You guys got beer?”
Most bars in New Seattle hadn’t had real beer since before the mega-quake. At least, the bars that Ash frequented hadn’t had beer since before the mega-quake. Too expensive.
The bartender hesitated, and his eyes flicked to the crowd behind him. Ash resisted the urge to check over his shoulder, see whether anyone was staring at him, whispering. It had been a long while since he’d been inside a bar that wouldn’t serve him.
“Come on, man, one pint,” he said, digging around in his jacket. A pint of beer would cost him half the money in the envelope of cash he’d stolen back from Mac after Chandra shot him, but, just now, it seemed worth it. “I promise, I’ll be good—”
The television hanging above the bar flickered on and Ash froze, hand still shoved down his pocket.
A shadowy figure appeared on the screen. She wore a hood that covered her face, and stood in front of a tattered American flag, a sketchy fox painted on the front of her coat.
“Friends,” Quinn said, in her heavily distorted voice. “Do not attempt to adjust your television. Our broadcast has taken over every channel.”
“You still want that pint?” the bartender asked.
Ash realized he’d frozen, one hand still gripping the cash envelope. He nodded and handed over a slightly damp bill, his eyes never leaving the screen.
Quinn continued. “I come to you this evening with happy news. For the past year, the Black Cirkus has been attempting to uncover the secrets of time travel, secrets that have long been kept from us by the scientist Professor Zacharias Walker.
“Tonight, I am glad to say that Professor Walker has been thwarted. Time travel is ours, at long last.”
All talk in the bar ceased. Someone catcalled, while another called out, “About damn time!”
Ash realized he was holding the cash envelope so tightly that his fingers had started to cramp. He tucked it back into his jacket and began cracking his knuckles.
He’d known the Cirkus could travel through time. Or, at least, he’d suspected. He’d seen their time machine himself, and he’d thought he’d seen Roman and Quinn in 1980, at the Fort Hunter complex.
But he’d never been able to figure out how they were able to go back in time without any exotic matter and, over the last few weeks, he’d been able to push that question to the back of his mind. There’d always been other, more pressing things to focus on.
Not anymore.
“And now, we would like to invite you all to a revel of sorts.” Quinn announced. “Tomorrow evening, the Black Cirkus will host a masquerade at the Fairmont hotel, at seven o’clock pm.
“Join us, and see how we will use time travel to build a better present, a better future. Join the Black Cirkus, and we’ll show you a new and better world.”