Rewinder (8 page)

“Ah, good. Thank you,” Marie tells him. She turns back to me. “This is what we came to see.”

__________

I
PEEK OVER
the shoulder of the attendant, careful not to get in the way of Lidia or the other two trainees who have joined us. On the video screen is an alternate spectrum shot of a female companion lying on her bed. The colors of the image range from white-blue to dark blue to black. After a few seconds go by, another person enters the room and connects some wires to the reclining woman’s head and upper chest, then straps her arms and legs into padded restraints.

“Those are for monitoring her vital signs,” the data attendant says, then points at the other monitor. The graph on it was flat when we arrived but now has sprung to life.

I look at it for a moment but can’t even pretend to understand what the lines mean, so I focus back on the other monitor.

“And the restraints?” David, one of the other trainees, asks.

“Just watch,” his instructor tells him.

A small square opens on the lower left portion of the main monitor, displaying another camera feed, this one originating from what I recognize as the departure hall. It’s focused on a man probably twice my age standing on one of the platforms.

After the man gives a hand signal, the data attendant leans forward and says into a microphone, “Stand by.”

The person in the companion’s room checks the restraints. When he waves at the camera, the data operator touches a button and says into his mic, “Taylor, clear.”

On the departure-hall feed, the Rewinder nods and lifts a Chaser.

The very instant he disappears, the companion arches on her bed as if shot through by a jolt of electricity. She then drops back down and writhes on the mattress, her hands clenching and unclenching as her arms jerk against the restraints. This only lasts a few seconds before she arches again.

The process plays out four times before she lands back on the bed and stays there. With skill and speed, the room attendant plunges a syringe into her arm. After a moment, her tremors begin to subside and she falls back, either asleep or unconscious.

Marie steps forward. “Can you play back the event please?”

The data attendant does so, and it’s no less disturbing the second time around.

“There are two stages to each jump,” Marie tells us. “Pre-arrival and post-arrival.”

The attendant runs the video once more, this time pausing on a frame in which the companion is arching her back.

“Pre-arrival,” Marie says. “The
GO
button has been pushed and the Rewinder is in transit. We call this the journey arc.”

She nods at the attendant and the video moves forward, pausing again when the woman is twisting on the bed.

“Post-arrival. The shot she was given helps mitigate the pain and allows her to rest.”

“Why wasn’t it given to her before the jump?” I ask.

“Because that would reduce her ability to deflect the pain,” the attendant says.

“Idiot,” Lidia whispers in my ear.

“You saw four journey arches,” Marie says. “This is because the Rewinder is going quite a distance back, and has used the automated controls to make the journey in smaller hops. This helps alleviate much of the pain he would feel upon arriving at this destination if he did it all in one jump.”

“How far did he go back?” I ask the attendant.

“One hundred and fifty-three years.”

Incredible—1861.

“So a short trip wouldn’t be so bad on a companion, right?” Kimberly, one of the other trainees, asks.

“The post-arrival phase would be less painful,” Marie says. “But for the journey arc, the pain is consistent no matter the span of time traveled.”

“Even just five years?” I ask, thinking about our trip to Chicago.

“Even just five years.”

Marie and I witness two more departures before we leave the companion-monitoring center.

Once we’re alone, I ask, “Do the companions have to stay in those rooms all the time?”

She shakes her head. “If their Rewinder isn’t traveling, their time is their own.”

I’m relieved to hear this.

“Who will my companion be?” I ask.

“One will be assigned at the end of training. You’ll find out then.” 

I was kind of hoping she’d say I would never find out. I’m not looking forward to knowing who it is I’ll be putting through agony every time I jump.

CHAPTER
NINE

F
ROM THE BEGINNING
we were told training would last three months. What wasn’t made clear to us was that this only meant three months in 2014. The reality is that the final three weeks of practical experience last as long as one’s instructor feels is necessary. When you go back in time, you can stay there as long as you want and still return minutes after you left. So, for those who are still plodding away in my home time, three and a half weeks for them could be four months for me.

I’m not complaining. The time I spend with Marie traveling into the past is nothing short of amazing. Our first “case” is to trace the family lineage of an institute patron named Sir Lionel Mason. We move slowly, rewinding first Sir Mason’s own life, witnessing snippets of his successes and failures, making sure to note everything. We then move on to his parents, and then his parents’ parents, and so on, each step back expanding the number of people we must track. We’re on the job for nearly three weeks of real time—living and breathing time—before Marie is satisfied with my work and allows us to return to the very day we left.

I will grow old very quickly this way, and I say as much to Marie.

“It’ll be different after your training is done,” she tells me. “Once you’re officially a personal historian, when you push the
HOME
button, your real time in the past will equal the amount of time you’ve been gone. No unnecessary aging.” She thinks for a moment. “I should say that’s how it
usually
works. You may, on occasion, be asked to make an expedited trip and you’ll return right after you leave.”

“Is there a reason why that happens?”

She shrugs. “Whatever the reason, you’re not likely to be told.”

“A rush for a client?”

She hesitates. “That could be it.” Like on a few previous occasions, she seems to be holding something back. Whatever that might be, she continues to keep it to herself.

By the time my training nears its end, I have visited nearly every year going back to 1900, and dozens of years earlier than that. On most trips going more than eighty years back, we use the automated function and do them in hops to reduce the side effects. Marie makes me take one long trip all the way back to 1645 so I’d understand why the hops are necessary. The pain is so intense I pass out moments after we arrive. When I come to, I make it clear to her it’s a lesson that does not need repeating.

When I arrive for my very last day of training, I ask Marie, “So, who are we tracing today?

“No one.”

“No one? We’re not going anywhere?”

“Did I say that? Pull out your Chaser, please.”

As soon as I do, she pushes the
GO
button on her device and we wink out of 2014. In the now familiar gray mist of the journey, I can sense Marie’s companion. This is something that’s been building from trip to trip. It’s like that feeling that someone’s watching you but you’re never quite able to figure out who. Marie tells me the link will be even stronger with my own companion after I’ve worked with that person for a while. There are pairs of Rewinders and companions who are so compatible that they’re able to communicate through the link. I’m not sure if I want that or not.

Our journey is apparently a long one, as we end up making five different stops before we settle on the bank of a river. Having unexpectedly—at least in my mind—arrived during daylight, my training immediately kicks in and I drop to the ground, my head moving back and forth as I scan the area to make sure we haven’t been spotted. But we’re completely alone.

“Good response, though you could have probably dropped a second sooner,” Marie says.

A half second at most, I think, but I’m not going to argue. I rub away my headache as I look out at the wide river. “Where are we?”

“Spain. The Guadalquivir River.”

That would explain the sweat on my brow. “What are we doing here?”

“Is that the right question?”

Of course it isn’t. “
When
are we?”

“The tenth of August, 1519.”

The date is a familiar one. But with all the practical training we’ve been doing, I’m a bit rusty with my studying.

“There,” she says, pointing upriver.

The bow of a ship is just coming into view, and that’s when I remember. It was even a question on the very test that brought me to the institute’s attention.

There are five ships total. I don’t remember the names of all of them. One, I believe, is the
Victoria
, another the
Santiago
. There is one whose name I do know for sure. The
Trinidad
, flagship of Ferdinand Magellan’s fleet. This is the day he sails to the coast where his journey around the world will begin, a trip Magellan will not finish. But both he and I are here at the start, separated only by the flowing river.

When the ships finally sail out of sight, all I can say is, “They’re smaller than I pictured in my mind.”

I look over at Marie to see if she’s heard me, but she seems lost in thought.

When I open my mouth to ask if she’s all right, she says quietly, “And look what we’ve become.”

“I’m sorry?”

She glances over as if she momentarily forgot I’m here. “Don’t get used to this,” she says, ignoring my question. “Historical moments will seldom be on your agenda. Consider this a present from me, for doing a good job.” She looks back at the now empty river. “Remain true and keep your eyes open, and you’ll be one hell of a Rewinder.”

She short-hops us back to 2014.

Before dismissing me for the last time, she takes my Chaser and disables the slave mode. It may not be official yet, but I feel like I’m already a Rewinder.

__________

G
RADUATION IS A
formal affair in the gardens behind Upjohn Hall. There must be two hundred people in attendance. The first group to be honored consists of the twelve people who started out as Rewinder trainees but have been reassigned as companions. None of them appear particularly happy, and a few even shoot scornful looks in our direction. And why not? I wouldn’t be happy, either.

After the new companions have been acknowledged, Lady Williams gives a speech about the obligations that come with being a personal historian, and the absolute dedication each of us needs to bring to our role every single day. She then focuses on the importance of the Upjohn Institute to the empire, and talks wistfully about the beginnings of the organization and all the families it has helped. Her words are met with polite applause, making me think this isn’t the first time she’s given this speech.

Finally, she calls the new Rewinders one by one to the stage, where each personal instructor gives his or her student a certification of completion. When my turn comes, Marie whispers as she shakes my hand, “Do good.”

The student in me wants to ask her if she meant to say, “Do well,” but something in her eyes tells me she meant exactly what she said.

When we leave the stage, we are guided over to where the new companions stand.

Back at the stage, Sir Gregory takes the microphone and says, “It’s now time for the pairing. The selections are not arbitrary, but the result of considerable analysis and consideration. As each pair is called out, you will stand together.” He reads the pairs but foregoes the usual alphabetical order. Instead of being last, I’m third.

“Denny Younger and Palmer Benson.”

What I remember most about Palmer is that he’d often hang out with Lidia during off hours, which is probably why we’ve never shared more than a few words.

And probably why we share only two now.

“Hi,” I say as I move next to him.

“Yeah,” he replies.

Sir Gregory encourages us to spend the afternoon with our companions, but as soon as we’re dismissed, Palmer takes off. I’m actually glad he’s uninterested in forming a friendship. It’ll be easier for me to forget the pain I’ll be causing him later.

As Palmer walks away, I notice Lidia watching him, too. Suddenly she turns and looks in my direction, hate oozing out of every pore, and I instantly know what she’s thinking. Palmer should be standing in my spot, ready for his life as a Rewinder, while I should be the companion.

__________

T
HE SUPERVISOR I’M
assigned to work with for my first nine months is a veteran Rewinder named Merrick Johnston. He makes it clear from the beginning that ours is strictly a working relationship, and as long as I do exactly what he tells me, we won’t have any problems. I have no doubt the types of question I often asked Marie would not be welcome.

Johnston turns out to be a master at blending into whatever era we visit. Vowing to myself to be as good as he is, I watch his every move and study each choice he makes. Through the last months of 2014 and the first few of 2015, we trace the histories of dukes and lords and barons and leaders of industry and business. We delve into the past and uncover the expected ancestral triumphs that lifted families to prominence, and the ugly, buried secrets those in bygone generations assumed would never be known.

I immerse myself in my work, and even when we’re not traveling, I continue my studies into the past so no decade I visit will be unknown to me. It’s purely by accident that I see the story in the newspaper.

The world of my home time has become all but invisible to me. The institute is my life. The only time I leave the grounds is when I go into the past. The world of today is something I never think about.

I’m in the library, where I spend most evenings researching, when I see it. Johnston has told me that tomorrow we’ll be traveling back to 1943, so I’m in the mid-twentieth-century section for a quick refresher.