The Children Who Time Lost (11 page)

The room returned to silence. The voice didn’t immediately respond. The whispers returned and spread around the room. I saw many women with hands over their mouths as they spoke.

Monique tugged against my dress. “What does she think, that telling them her stupid life story will win her sympathy? We’ve all suffered. You’ve actually lost a child you bore yourself.”

I nodded and continued focusing on the woman. She wiped tears from her cheeks. “Pain is pain,” I said, “and she’s seen too much of it, as I have.” I turned to Monique. “You can’t measure someone’s pain against someone else’s. You have no right to do that.”

Monique glared at me and looked away.

Sonia’s tears had gone, but she continued to sniffle.

“Thanks for your honesty, Sonia Byrne,” the voice said. “But the decision has already been made. Let’s hope Porsche deems you worthy.” He paused. “I shall now name those who are to return to the portal at once. If I do call your name, you must remain where you stand until I issue further instructions. I wish you all the best of luck.”

I had never been so scared in my life. I prayed that they wouldn’t call my name. Not after getting so far.

Silence overtook the room as we all waited. I looked across the room and saw most women holding hands, even those from different countries. I glanced left and met the gaze of a Hispanic woman with short dark hair. She smiled at me and I extended my hand. She took it in hers and turned to the woman next to her and did the same. Ultimately, the women on the chair formed a chain, as did all the other women in the room.

To my right, Amelia trembled. I heard her sniffle and wished I could tell her everything would be all right. A loud cough heard over the speaker signaled the return of the voice.

“So, ladies,” he said, “I shall now begin.” He cleared his throat. “Yinka Folayan, please step forward.” Heads swiveled and uncomfortable glances were exchanged. Yinka was a West African name, and attention was eventually focused on the women in what appeared to be an African group. They shifted uncomfortably and glanced at each other.

“Yinka Folayan. Please go to the center of the room.”

Again, nothing.

“The first announcement was for information. This is now an order. Yinka Folayan, please—”

A plump, fair-skinned black woman stepped forward, crying. She sniffled as she approached the room’s center, her gaze fixed on the floor.

“Good,” the man said. “Michaela Barnes, please step forward.”

Some women stared toward Europe and some toward us. I didn’t know where to look, but then I heard sobbing close by. I whipped my head back and saw a blond woman who couldn’t have been a day over twenty wiping tears from her eyes. Then it hit me: any of us could be sent home.

The list went on, with more and more women breaking down in tears. I squeezed the hands of Amelia and the woman to my left as tightly as I could. There were already fifteen women standing in the center of the room, waiting to be escorted back home empty-handed.
This must be it. They can’t send any more of us home, can they?

“Maria Lopez,” the man said. I now counted twenty women. It started to seem that there would soon be none of us left. “Meredith Kaufman, Justine Moffat and …” I closed my eyes and prayed. I couldn’t go home. Not after coming this far.

“Amelia Simmonds.”

My eyes shot open. I looked to my right. Amelia looked straight back at me. Her mouth hung open. I wrapped my arms around her and she began wailing.

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

She continued crying, almost like a baby would. All eyes zoomed in on us. Amelia held me like she never wanted to let go. I could feel everyone still watching, but I didn’t care. I felt someone else push up against me.

“I’m really sorry.” Monique’s voice carried sympathy and sadness.

“You’ll be fine,” I said to Amelia. “You’re still young. Your time will come again.”

“Amelia Simmonds, please move to the center of the room at once.”

I broke the embrace and stroked her hair, and Monique did the same. Amelia wiped the last of the tears from her eyes and nodded at both of us. “You two have been great.” She walked toward the center of the room, and everyone applauded, even the women standing in the center.

Amelia paused and looked around at everyone cheering her on before settling her gaze on us. A narrow smile followed. I returned it and watched her join the other women going home empty-handed. Sonia Byrne, the woman who had spoken out earlier, ran forward and embraced Amelia. Then she whispered something into her ear. I put both hands over my chest. It was a lovely gesture.

After Sonia ran back to her chair, silence returned. Doors in every corner of the room slammed open, and many incarnations of the woman I’d seen in the corridor—Porsche, the man had called her—walked in. They wore blue, purple, black and gold dresses. It was amazing how real they all looked. I wasn’t sure whether they were human clones or advanced Kysos. Either way, I could see that science had leaped forward significantly from our time. They took the hands of the women standing in the center and led them out. Amelia gave us one last painful look before disappearing into the corridor.

Chapter Nine

I
wiped tears from my cheeks after the last woman walked out of the room. I couldn’t shake how easily it could have been any one of us being escorted out. Had I answered any of the questions incorrectly, they might have called my name first. But then again, what really counted as a right or wrong answer?

“Congratulations,” the voice said. “You have made it to the final stage. All that is left now is for each one of you to go ahead and meet your child. Some of you have invoked your right to select a gender. While we have taken each request into consideration, we cannot guarantee your wishes.

“If you walk into the collection room and the child is not to your liking, you are under no obligation to take her or him home. You can simply leave empty-handed. But again, you will be bound by the nondisclosure agreement you are agreeing to simply by being here.”

Monique leaned toward me. “As if anyone would say no to a child after getting this far.”

I forced a smile. I couldn’t think of anything beyond seeing my child. The man called the first name.

“Tanvi Kapoor, please step forward.”

An Indian woman in a long gray dress rushed to the center of the room. A single incarnation of Porsche entered the room and extended her hand. The ecstatic woman jumped up and down and grabbed it. She left seconds later.

The man continued calling names out, each time to the sound of jubilation. Eight women now remained in the room. I could feel my heart beat faster and faster.

When we were down to five, Monique’s name was called, and she screamed so loud that some of the other women frowned in our direction, including the only remaining American besides us. I smiled and embraced her. She cried and caressed the back of my head.

“This is like a dream come true,” she screamed. When another incarnation of Porsche walked in, Monique leaned toward my ear. “Thank you.”

I looked at her. “What for?”

“For saying the right things. I know we’re not really meant to see each other again after this, but I’d like to keep in touch.”

I smiled. “I’d like that, too.”

She ran toward the center of the room and followed her escort out. After their exit, I looked back toward the other three women and saw anxiety on their faces.

“Rachel Harris.”

I looked around at the other women, waiting for one of them to step forward. Then I realized he had called my name. I screamed at the top of my lungs and slumped to the ground with both hands over my head. I couldn’t see straight. My face trembled and all I could think about was my husband. How I wanted to have him with me.

The last remaining woman on our chair lifted me and held my shoulders. “Are you okay?”

I stared into her eyes for a moment and then looked at the other women around the room. They all looked at me with expressionless eyes. “I’m fine,” I said. “I’m just fine.”

She smiled and gestured toward the center of the room, where yet another version of Porsche was waiting. I took a step forward, and then another. The speed of my heartbeat kept increasing. This Porsche’s smile seemed warm but couldn’t hide the frost behind it. I took her hand and walked out with her. The bottom of her purple dress reached the floor. We left and stepped into another endless corridor with white walls and fluorescent lights.

I thought of Amelia.
What must she be going through?

“Congratulations, Rachel,” the woman leading me said. “I had a good feeling when I saw you earlier.”

“So it was you I saw earlier?”

She stopped and turned around. “But of course it was me. Who else could it be?”

“It’s just that there are so many of you.”

“And we’re all one. We all see what the others see. I know, for example, that your friend Monique has just acquired a beautiful baby girl with brown eyes and dark skin. Her face hinted at surprise when she first laid eyes on the baby, but I could see the genuine happiness after she accepted that a baby is still a baby, regardless of color.” She turned and continued walking down the corridor. I kept wondering when it was going to end. “Your friend Amelia, on the other hand, feels resentment toward you.”

“Resentment? Toward me?”

“Of course, resentment.” She turned around again. “And why shouldn’t she? Her one chance—and possibly her only chance—to ever have a child is gone. You, on the other hand, have already had a child, and it’s very possible that you could conceive another. Yet here you are, winning a child. She must be thinking that she should be here instead of you. After all, you’ve had your time.” She shrugged. “I just thought you’d like to know.”

I nodded. She turned and continued walking again.
If you weren’t so damn important, I’d slap you right now, you smug woman.

“I heard that,” she said and laughed. I placed my hand over my mouth.

The corridor curved right and then left, and we kept walking. It seemed to be an eternity, but then we reached a solid black wall. She placed her right palm against it, and a blue light ran up and down the wall as it had done before. The wall shuddered and retracted. She stood beside me and we both watched until a path came into view.

I stared into another bright room. This one was about two hundred square feet, with opaque glass all around it. The woman pointed to a black leather sofa at the end of the room. I looked at a white cradle and heard the magical sound of a baby crying. The woman smiled, placed her hand on my shoulder and led me forward. I shook with each step. I leaned toward the baby but stopped after seeing a sheet of paper stuck to the right side of the couch. It said “Dylan.”

“It’s a boy,” I blurted.

“Yes, it is. Does that please you?”

“Yes,” I half-shouted. “It pleases me very much.” I lifted the baby in my arms and studied him. He couldn’t have been more than a year old. His cheeks were chubby. His hair was blond and his eyes as blue as the sky. He was very different from my Madeline but still adorable. I lifted him to my face and felt the tears pouring from my eyes. I looked at the woman. She was still smiling. I turned back to Dylan. He was smiling at me, too.

“Yes, you’re a cute one, aren’t you?” I made funny faces at him and he laughed. I cried and laughed at the same time as I hoisted him in the air a few times. I rested him against my chest and faced the woman again. “What about his parents?”

Porsche stepped backward, watching me. Then she placed her palm against the wall to the right of the entrance. The blue light ran up and down the wall like before and she dropped her hand.

“Look outside,” she said.

I gasped. The glass wasn’t opaque anymore. I could see what looked like a living room, with long brown sofas and glass tables that floated four feet in the air with no legs. I looked back at her and she pointed toward the area behind my baby’s cradle. I looked again and almost jumped out of my shoes. A man and woman stood behind the glass. They held each other and looked straight at me. I took a step forward and then moved left and right, but their eyes didn’t follow me. “Can they—?”

“No,” Porsche said. “They can’t see you. It’s a one-way mirror.”

I walked up to the glass. They were both extremely attractive, with bleached blond hair and striking blue eyes. I looked at my new baby and smiled. I could see where he’d gotten his looks from. I looked at the couple again and realized that while the woman smiled, the man was scowling, like he didn’t want to give his child up.

“Come,” Porsche said. “It’s time to leave.”

I approached her, but she raised her hand.

“Aren’t you going to get his things?” she said.

“His things?”

She pointed at a silver suitcase on the floor, tucked neatly under the sofa. “He’s not from your time; you’ll need to use what his parents have provided to acclimatize him to 2043.”

I nodded and laughed at myself. In my excitement, I’d almost forgotten all of Dylan’s things. The suitcase was much lighter than it looked. I started to open it but stopped myself. It could wait until we got home.