The Price of Demand (Reintegration Edit 7)

Altman nodded. “Yes. Yes indeed.” He frowned and turned his attention back to the tower before them. It should have been a reassuring sight, a beacon of safety and protection. In his mind’s eye, a shadow had fallen over it, darkened by the spectre of the oddly-marked bricks. No matter how he looked at them, they made him think sabotage, but he knew he was no trained inspector. “I’m jumping to conclusions. I should know better. I’m a little unsettled, that’s all,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

Waldon grunted. “Yer not the first I’ve heard muttering to himself today, y’aren’t. Nobody’s feelin’ right after yesterday. But the tower’s up, and on schedule.”

Altman turned to face the man again; there was little more he could learn from these bricks. “And a fine job, Sias. The men have been quick on their feet; the scaffolding’s all down already? Everything packed up and moved to the new market project site?”

Waldon straightened up a bit at the comment. “It is, aye. They didn’t want to linger by the tower more’n they had to. Can’t say as I blame ‘em. Work’s likely to progress faster now, but not for the reasons I’m lookin’ for.”

Altman grimaced wryly. “If they start getting careless, they’ll only make all this ridiculous talk of so-called ‘bad luck’ worse.”

Waldon’s face darkened a touch, and Altman belatedly remembered the clover. “Aye. Let’s be off then. I’ll show you what we’ve got for the market. The ground should be cleared for the levelin’, an’ the first temporary barracks is finished.”

Displaced - Day 16

Charlie took a deep breath, verified the return coordinates for the trip home, and without letting himself think about what he was doing too hard, hit the button.

The room around him began to shimmer like a heat mirage, though the temperature remained steady. The shimmer grew in intensity, the effect blurring and streaking the room, dimly lit walls blending with the future versions of themselves, which appeared to be unlit. After a period of time that could have been an instant or an eternity (for in actuality it was both and neither,) the effect snapped off. The room was nearly dark and the few sparse furnishings that had occupied it in 1940 were gone, leaving it empty.

He slowly let out his breath. He felt okay, as he had on each previous trip he’d taken through time. Maybe his body felt a bit warm, but … “Can’t let it get to me. Either it’s hurting me or it’s not, but either way, there’s nothin’ I can do about it right now.” He kept his voice low, not knowing who might be near to hear him. He quickly packed up the equipment into a shoulder-slung bag, then pulled his usual 2042 attire from his pack and changed.

It’s strange how changing clothes can make you feel so much better, he thought, the familiar feel of his native clothes calming him down, making him feel more like himself. Time to get a move on.

Displaced - Day 15

<>

Charlie massaged his temples, eyes squeezed tight against the mild but growing headache he felt behind his eyes. From behind him, the low thrumming of the time portal apparatus’ power generator slowly grew in intensity. Normally it was an exciting sound, full of promise and hope. Now it amplified the pounding in his skull. He couldn’t get his mind off of Sandra’s words.

A low tone sounded, signaling the devices’ readiness. He turned and faced it; the field of effect was centered on the device itself, since he had to bring it back to his original present with him. He couldn’t leave it back in 1940. His lips compressed into a hard line and he did his best to shut Sandra out of his thoughts as he stepped forward, possessions slung over his shoulder. It was time.

Displaced - Day 14

“The point is,” she said with obvious exasperation, “you’ll either be fine, or it’s too late to do anything about it, and from what we know of the effects, yes, you’re probably okay. I’m sorry, but I can’t be more reassuring than that.”

Charlie shivered a little, still feeling the warm tingling, almost itching sensation. He really hoped it was his imagination. “Okay, okay, I get the picture. So what do you need me to do?”

“The what is the easy part. You skim off the data we need, of course. It’s the how and the when that make things … complicated.”

Displaced - Day 13

Charlie flinched at the words. “Just how … damaging are we talking? I’m not going to dissolve into goo or some crap like that am I?”

“No, no! You should be okay.” Sandra shook her head as she spoke, but her response was just a little too quick for Charlie’s taste.

“Should? That’s not real reassuring,” he said with a grimace.

“It’s been tested on more than half a dozen trips before, and—” she started quickly.

“Tested on who, or what?” he broke in, eyes narrowed.

“Well, we don’t have all the data, but it didn’t look like it had quite reached human trails—”

“Wonderful,” he cut her off again, hoping against hope that the faint warm tingling he felt over his whole body was just his imagination.