Unhappenings (22 page)

I found her on a bench in the lobby.

“Hey!” I said. “How did you find me?”

“You gave me your full name, and we live in the twenty-second century, right?”

I laughed. “So we do. How are you doing?”

“Pretty great,” she said. “I got the job, so I’m here to buy you lunch. Is this a good time for you?”

And just like that, I had gone from pining over the woman of my dreams to being asked on what I couldn’t help thinking of as a second date. Stupidly, I said, “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

With a somewhat disgusted look, she said, “Your line is: ‘Congratulations!’”

“Congratulations!” I parroted.

“Thank you!” She beamed. “Couldn’t have done it without you. Where shall we go to celebrate?” Her smile was infectious.

“You really don’t have to buy me lunch,” I said, but we were already walking to the door at that point.

“Psh,” she said. “Listen to you turn down food. If you don’t tell me where we’re going, I’m going to pick someplace very expensive so you can watch me spend a fortune thanking you. Don’t push me; I’ll do it.”

I laughed. “I believe you will.”

I left the building with Helen, in search of moderately priced food, conscious of the fact that I had not told Oscar I was leaving. If that cost me toady points, so be it. I had a day to seize, and no idea how long the universe would be gracious enough to let me have it.

o. Plan B.

Avoiding Helen was going to be out of the question. She had already seen to that. Pursuing a relationship with her was also not an option. I didn’t belong here, and at some point I was going to go home and never return. Even setting that aside, I truly believed her life would be in peril.

That left me the one choice somewhere in between: friendship.

That would be a juggling act, to be sure. Helen was clearly taking an interest, but with the right application of denial, I could choose to believe she wasn’t flirting with me. So far neither of us had made any overt passes. Given enough untaken opportunities, I should be able to communicate my lack of intentions. Unless she beat me to it. One step at a time.

In theory, this should have played out essentially the same as it had with Wendy. There were two crucial differences, unfortunately. My feelings for Wendy never moved past potential; with Helen I was already quite a bit past that. More urgently, I was willing to limit my time with Wendy for the greater good. Every moment not spent with Helen was a moment forever squandered. Even time travel rationalizations could not dim that feeling.

All of these thoughts began to come into focus as we embarked on our lunch adventure. Outing. Excursion.

Not. Date.

“Funny thing,” she said, her eyes on the menu. “It turns out there’s a Nigel Walden and a Graham Walden where you work.”

“That
is
funny,” I said.

She put down her menu with a mischievous smile. “Which one are you, Nigel-Graham?”

“Who says I’m only one of them?” I asked. My adrenal gland immediately reminded me to be more discreet.

“You’re toying with me.” She was still smiling.

“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe I think you already know the answer.”

“You’re at least two levels ahead of me, aren’t you?” Her smile broadened.

I laughed, probably more loudly than I should have.

“You have no idea.”

“I’m not used to that.”

I laughed again, more quietly. “I don’t doubt it.”

We spent a few seconds in a game of verbal chicken, before she caved.

“Who’s Nigel?”

“Uncle,” I said.

“Who you sometimes pretend to be? Who you sometimes forget you aren’t?” She held up a hand to keep me from speaking. “Don’t tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

She returned to her menu.

“Good. I like the thought of you carrying an air of mystery,” she said. “Let’s not spoil it with some mundane explanation, Nigel-Graham.”

“You should really just call me Graham,” I said.

“And yet I’m not going to.”

Lunch lasted about an hour. Pulling myself away to get back to work was pain. It only occurred to me at the end of the day I probably should have offered to split the check.

elen and I saw quite a bit of each other from that day forward. Some days she would drop by the lab building when she knew I had a break. Other days I would head over to the library to see how she was settling in. Occasionally we would do something like lunch, but never anything that could actually be construed as taking our relationship to the next level. I came to think of her as my best friend. My impression was that she felt the same way. Her flirtatious behavior from our first few meetings evened out as we became more comfortable around each other, to the point where I decided it had been my imagination in the first place.

I tried not to dwell on the fact that every time I saw her, I fell a little deeper for her.

Early in 2145, about two months after mistakenly thinking I had seen her in the print collection, I saw Athena again for real. When I got home from work one evening, she was waiting for me in my apartment, sitting at my kitchen table. It was a little unusual for her to do that, and a little disconcerting. She looked about the same age as the last time I saw her, and much less happy.

“How long has it been since you saw me last?” she asked, before I had a chance to say hello.

“About three months. Are you okay?”

She waved away the question. “I’m fine. Three months. That’s good. I think that means we’re syncing in parallel frames.”

I hung my coat up. “I’ll go ahead and pretend I know what that means. Can I get you something to drink?”

“No.” She sat still and looked away from me. “Yes. Can I have a glass of water?”

I put the glass on the table in front of her. She didn’t touch it. I pulled up a chair. “The last time I saw you, you were about to start running fixes with the me from a few years ago. You asked me for advice. Did I give you anything helpful?”

She sat in silence for a few seconds.

“That’s the last time I saw you too.” She shook her head. “I mean, no, I saw you at MIT twice after that. That’s the last time I saw you in this time frame. That was about three months ago.”

None of this explained her rattled state. I was not used to seeing her not in control. Even when I knew her as a kid, she was never this timid.

“Is that what you mean by synced?”

She nodded. “When I see you here, I think our meetings are going to happen in the same order for both of us. You’re not in your home time.”

It seemed that was all she was going to share, and I thought I understood at least the basics, so I didn’t press. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“No,” she said. “Sort of.”

“Did something unhappen?”

“No. It’s not that. It’s just… I have a lot of responsibility now. It’s weighing me down.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“It’s not your…” She shook her head. “It’s all right. I’ll be all right.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

“I’m here to run an equipment test,” she said, standing. Do you have some time right now?”

“Cute.” I smiled.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling feebly in return. She took my hand, and the world turned inside out. When it settled, we were on a beach, at what looked like sunrise.

“When are we?” I asked.

She pressed her right fingers against her left forearm.

“Hang on.” I waited a few seconds, and then she said, “1972. Plus or minus seven years.”

“Holy crap! I’ve never been back that far.”

“Me either,” she said. “Don’t get used to it; we’re not staying.”

“What are we testing?”

“Tandem jumps from non-native time frames. It worked, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Um,” I said. “Good? What would have happened if it hadn’t worked?”

She shrugged. “Anyone’s guess. Probably something extremely confusing.”

I looked at the dawn clouds, in various oranges and yellows. There was no way for me to know where we were, although the sun was over the ocean, so it had to be the east coast of some continent. Unless I was looking at a sunset. I really had no way to tell the difference. “I met someone.”

Athena gave me a puzzled look. “What?”

“I met someone,” I repeated. “She works in the library a few kilometers from my lab.”