Ash saw the blow coming and tried to brace himself, but the butt of his gun caught him hard on the side of his face. He heard something crack, and then his eyesight turned bloody.
“Boom,” Eliza whispered into his ear, laughing. She smashed the gun into his face again. And again.
The dock tilted toward him.
And then there was only darkness.
LOG ENTRY—OCTOBER 7, 1899
22:24 HOURS
JUST OUTSIDE COLORADO SPRINGS
This is a little embarrassing, but let me explain.
I was feeling pretty low after everything that happened. Not only the terrible future that will almost certainly come to pass, but my own experiments and failures as well.
And so I had a drink. And then I had a couple of drinks. And then I thought about how nice it would be to talk to another scientist, someone who knows exactly how it feels to fail so horribly at something you believed without a doubt to be true.
And so I got into the Second Star and flew into the past to see Nikola. We’ve been hanging out in his experimental station, and we’ve had a few more drinks and just . . . talked.
Nikola still thinks I’m a martian, but he understands my frustration, nonetheless.
I wasn’t going to write about this little trip at all, but Nikola said something that’s stuck with me. I wrote it down as best as I could remember it here.
He said, “Maybe there is something like destiny, or God, working on each of us, determining our paths forward, on and on through the future. Though you might be able to change your own path, you cannot change someone else’s.”
That seemed really profound to me. Or maybe it’s the bourbon.
Before I left, Nikola asked if I would come visit him one last time, before his death. I asked him why, but he only smiled and wouldn’t tell me.
“There’s something I’d like to give you” was all he said.
Part Three
How did it get so late so soon? It’s night before it’s afternoon. December is here before it’s June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?
—Dr. Seuss
39
Dorothy
NOVEMBER 9, 2077, NEW SEATTLE
Wind beat into the sides of the Black Crow. Rain lashed at the windshield. And, somewhere far in the distance, stars winked in and out of existence.
Dorothy peered at the sides of the anil, searching first for the exact crest of purple that meant 2077, and then for the subtler changes and shifts in color that meant they were nearing the eighth of November. It was her first time flying the Black Crow through the anil on her own, and this was the part she’d been dreading. She was terrible at looking for signs in the swirling black and gray of the time tunnel’s walls. It all looked the same to her.
“Does this seem right to you?” She glanced at Roman, but he only stared out the passenger-side window, forehead creased in concentration, eyes glazed.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” he said distantly.
“All right.” Dorothy exhaled and, cringing slightly, she pulled the Black Crow through the misty, swirling sides of the anil.
The rain became thick and black, turning to waves, and then the Black Crow was shooting up and up, through dark water, to surface in the familiar dusky twilight of New Seattle, circa 2077.
Dorothy loosened her grip on the time machine’s yoke and leaned back in her seat, releasing an anxious sigh. She thought she’d done well. The trip hadn’t been quite as smooth as when Roman flew, but she’d held the time machine steady against the battering wind, so she considered it a success. At least she hadn’t crashed.
She checked the clock on the time machine’s dashboard. Then, blinking, she checked it again.
“Roman,” she said, leaning forward suddenly. “Is this right? It says that we landed a full day later than when we left.”
Roman turned to her. He seemed not to have noticed that they’d arrived back home at all. The last trip back had taken a toll on him. He looked aged.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Look.” Dorothy pointed to the time machine’s clock. “We landed twenty-four hours too late.” She looked over her shoulder, at the anil still swirling behind her. “Should—should I go back and try again?”
Roman went back to staring out the window. “If you like.”
Dorothy tried to think of something to say, but everything that came to mind sounded stupid. He’d spent the day watching his sister die over and over again. She couldn’t think