‘Ryan’s locked up inside. There’s going to be a trial.’
Ben glanced at his watch. ‘I want to talk, Eden. But I’m running late for my flight. Can I give you a ride somewhere?’
‘I’m going to be staying at the Lakeview Hotel. Can you drive me there?’
Ben nodded. ‘Jump in.’
‘This looks disappointingly normal,’ I said, running my eyes over his car. ‘I was hoping for hover cars or a jet pack.’
Ben gave me a look.
‘I’m kidding,’ I said, although I had expected the future to look more different than it had so far.
‘Don’t be fooled,’ he said. ‘It’s the little differences that throw you the most. They’re more unexpected. The big differences are easier to see.’
‘Where are we, anyway?’
‘Lakeborough, New Hampshire. Part of the Federation of North America. Lakeborough didn’t exist back in your time; it was just a collection of small resort towns. Now it’s home to the President’s summer residence and the Space and Time Institute. It’s a small city. You’ll be able to see downtown in a moment.’
He started the car using a retinal scanner built into the dashboard and the engine gently hummed to life. We rolled through the gate and on to a wide, tree-lined avenue. I turned in my seat and looked behind me. The Space and Time Institute sat on the crest of the hill, all white granite and glass, like a diamond solitaire.
The peaceful avenue that led from the Institute merged on to a busier road. We drove round a corner and the city came into view, spread below us all down the side of the hill and across the flat land to a large lake.
‘What month is it?’
‘It’s the end of July 2123.’
I did a quick calculation. It was one month, and one hundred and eleven years in the future.
‘So tell me what happened,’ said Ben.
I gave him the short version, about the cleaner coming back for Ryan and capturing us. I didn’t mention the part about me returning to my house and leading the cleaner to Ryan.
‘How long had Ryan been back in 2012 before the cleaner arrived?’ asked Ben.
‘Three days.’
‘That’s crazy! To portal in and out so close to when we portalled out.’
‘I know it’s dangerous. Our portal started collapsing on the way back here. We had to change course. I think we were supposed to have arrived in March.’
Ben shook his head.
‘What do you think will happen to Ryan?’ I asked.
‘Unregulated time travel is one of the most serious crimes against time. He’s going to need a good lawyer.’
‘Admiral Westland said something about an old protocol that might help.’
‘I don’t know much about the law, but I do know that there isn’t much public support for time travel in general. Ryan’s going to have a fight on his hands.’
The car slowed down and pulled up outside a white concrete building with metallic reflective windows.
‘This is the Lakeview Hotel,’ said Ben. ‘The Institute uses it for agents all the time. It’s discreet. Food’s quite nice.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, pulling the flexi-card from my pocket. ‘How does this work?’
‘It’s like a credit card, but it’s pre-paid,’ he explained. ‘You just hand it over when you need to pay.’
‘Anything else I should know?’
He pulled a small device, about the size of a mobile phone, out of his jacket pocket. ‘This is a port-com. Portable communicator. It’s like a more sophisticated flexi-card. You use it to phone people, access the internet, and to pay for things once you have a bank account. You can’t function without one. If I give you just one piece of advice, it’s to get yourself a port-com as soon as possible.’
I nodded. ‘Thanks, Ben.’
He passed me a business card. ‘Call me any time. I’ve taken a new job. Moved on from time travel. I’m now captain of the Inter-Planetary Spaceport, a space station between Earth and the moon. I’m not close by, but if you have any questions or you need help with anything, just call.’
The doorman of the hotel was eyeing me warily. ‘Can I help you, ma’am?’
I looked behind me. No one. I was the ma’am.
‘I’d like to check in.’
He looked around me and frowned. ‘Does madam have any luggage?’
‘I’m travelling light.’
He ran his eyes over me in a way that made me feel very uncomfortable. And then I realised that I was dressed all wrong. I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but everyone else – other than those dressed in business suits – was dressed in a long tunic with leggings, like a body-con salwar kameez.
I followed the doorman into the lobby of the Lakeview Hotel. Its cool marble floors, potted plants and prints reassuringly reminded me of my own time. The doorman deposited me at the reception desk and left.
‘I need a room,’ I said.
‘Single, double, deluxe or a suite?’ the receptionist asked in a bored voice.
‘Single.’
‘Your card?’
I handed over the flexi-card and watched as he scanned it over a larger membrane. My picture and name materialised on the membrane, along with information regarding my credit. His expression brightened immediately.
‘Delighted to have you as our guest, Miss Anfield,’ he said, beaming at me. ‘I’ve allocated you a room on the fourth floor. There are beautiful views of the lake from there.’ He handed me back my flexi-card. ‘If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.’
I thanked him and took the lift to the fourth floor. My room was too big to be a single. It had a king-size bed, a large bathroom and separate sitting area with two couches and a large membrane on the wall. I wondered if he had charged me extra for this.
I shut the door. This was it: my home for the next six weeks. And then what? The future lay ahead of me, unlived and unknown, a small stream in the great ocean of time.
I had no clothes to unpack, no book to read, no friends to call. I switched on my new phone and waited for it to power up. Would old technology still work? Would my phone automatically download a software upgrade and continue to function? A tiny part of me held on to a small hope that a time-travelling phone from 2012 would be able to make calls to 2012. The bar at the top of the screen indicated that the battery was full – this little sliver of technology from my own time surviving in this wide new world – but there was no service. I scrolled through my list of favourite contacts – Amy, Connor, Megan, Miranda, Ryan.
Apart from Ryan, they were all dead now.
I pressed the call button next to Connor’s name. I stared and stared at the words.
Call failed.
Of course it had. My brand new mobile phone was now nothing more than an expensive digital clock. They were all gone. Every one of my friends had lived their lives already. They’d gone to university, chosen careers, fallen in love, had children and grandchildren, grown old or sick and died. I would never see them again.
I tried to find a remote control for the screen – which I assumed to be a television – but there was nothing in the room. There were no buttons on the edge of the screen, nor was there room for them. The screen itself was transparent, like a thin sheet of Perspex hanging on the wall.
‘Television turn on,’ I said to the empty room, feeling foolish.
Nothing happened.
My phone said four in the afternoon. But that was a different day in a different month in a different century altogether. Overcome with weariness, I sat on the edge of the bed. I was tired, alone, dirty, had no change of clothes, no food, no friends and I couldn’t even work out how to turn on the TV. The only person I knew in the whole wide world was Ryan, but he was locked up in a cell waiting for his trial and I had no idea how to help him. Numbly, I flopped back on the bed and shut my eyes tight, longing for sleep to pull me under.