"Beats me," the older man answered. "They must live in one of the units themselves—"
"Poor devils," Justin said. People talked about fates worse than death. If spending all your time in a place like this wasn't one of them . . . "Do you have any idea when we'll be able to get out of here?"
"Sure don't," Mr. Brooks said. "A mutated measles virus would be bad news in the home timeline—they used one of those against Crosstime Traffic in Romania a couple of years ago. Do you remember?"
"I didn't, not till you reminded me," Justin said. "They aren't as good at fighting them here as we are, either."
"They also aren't as good at making them," Mr. Brooks said. "I can hope our immunity shots will hold up."
That made Justin feel better, but only for a little while. There were no guarantees, and he knew it too well. Making viruses was easier than fighting them. Making them just took selective breeding, picking the strongest strains from each generation. People had been using selective breeding ever since they first tamed dogs. Controlling viruses once they got loose, though—that was another story.
Mr. Brooks' eyes sparked. "You're probably happy as a clam here," he said. How happy were clams? Some of the slang this alternate used was downright weird. The coin and stamp dealer went on, "You've met a pretty girl—and I think she's a nice girl, too. Don't get me wrong. But anyway, you may not care whether you get back to Charleston or not."
"Yes, I do. Beckie is nice, but I'm even more foreign here than she is," Justin said. "I showed it the day I met her, too." He told Mr. Brooks how he hadn't acted like a proper Virginian when it came to the way whites and blacks dealt with each other. "I know I should have sounded like everybody else, but I couldn't stand it."
"Well, I ought to get mad at you, because you did goof," Mr. Brooks told him. "And in a way I am mad at you. But I know how you feel. Everybody who comes here from the home timeline feels that way. Well, maybe not everybody, but the people who don't at least know they'd better act like they do when they're back home."
Justin nodded. Racism wasn't dead in the home timeline. Neither was sexism. Neither was homophobia. He wondered if they ever would be. But, even if they weren't dead, they were rude. You couldn't make people love all their neighbors all the time—that wasn't in the cards. But if you made them lose points for showing they didn't, that worked almost as well.
"I told her not to tell anybody what I said," Justin said. "Here, a white person's rude if he shows he doesn't think African Americans are inferior."
"All the states with lots of blacks in them are independent," Mr. Brooks said with a sigh. "Nobody can tell the people in them what to do. That's almost everybody's motto in this North America. 'Nobody can tell me what to do,' people say. And they're right. If they want to act like a bunch of idiots, no one can stop them."
"I don't mind that so much," Justin said. "But now I have to act like an idiot, too, because I'm supposed to come from a state where people do. That, I don't like."
Mr. Brooks sighed again. "Sometimes you're stuck with it, that's all. It's protective coloration. If you were in an alternate where the Roman Empire didn't fall, you'd have to make offerings to the Emperor's spirit."
"That wouldn't be as bad as this," Justin said. "That's just strange—and people always say, 'When in Rome, do as the Romans.'" Mr. Brooks winced. Justin grinned, but the smile slipped as he went on, "Making like a Virginian just hurts, because it feels like everything I grew up with is all twisted here. They say they believe in freedom, but they only mean it for people who look like them. Anybody else better watch himself."
"We try to reform them, but we can only do so much. We're mostly here to do business with them and keep an eye on them," Mr. Brooks said. "And we're here to try to stop them if they look like they're working on crosstime travel."
"I know," Justin said. "But there are states in this North America where Negroes have the same rights as anybody else. California's one of them. That's what made me slip up with Beckie."
"You're right. There are—and California is one of them." Mr. Brooks sounded grim. A moment later, Justin found out why: "Do you know one of the big reasons those states give Negroes those rights?" He held up a hand. "Wait. I know you do, because you told your mom about it."
"Uh-huh," Justin said unhappily. "Those states can afford to give African Americans equal rights because they've only got a few of them."
"That's it," Mr. Brooks agreed.
"It's the end of the twenty-first century," Justin said. "This alternate's got a technology that's close to ours. They know what freedom's all about—they have the Declaration of Independence even if they don't have the Constitution. There are free countries in Europe. Why don't they get it here?"
"You might as well ask why terrorists in the home timeline don't get it," Mr. Brooks replied. "They've got free countries for examples, too. But they worry more about being on top than being free."
"I guess." Justin whistled between his teeth—not a cheerful noise. "But have you seen the African American who's the town janitor here?" He waited for Mr. Brooks to nod, then went on, "Well, I wish I didn't have to be embarrassed I'm white every time I set eyes on him."
"I don't know what to tell you about that—except not to let him know you're embarrassed. It could blow your cover," the
older man said. "I've talked with him a little. He's not a bright man—he might be a janitor even in an alternate that didn't discriminate so much."
"Maybe. Or maybe he just doesn't want to let a white man know he's got a working brain," Justin said. 'That might be dangerous. It probably is."
It was Mr. Brooks' turn to let out a couple of mournful notes. "You've got a point."
Justin turned on the TV. Again, the newsman wore a tie nobody in the home timeline would have been caught dead in. "Welcome to the five o'clock news. Casualties from the disease launched by Ohio continue to mount. Here is a hospital scene in Richmond."
A tired-looking doctor walked from patient to patient. He wore a real gas mask, not just a surgical mask. An ambulance screamed up to the emergency room with another victim—no, with two. Ambulances here had snakes twined around a staff on the door, not the Red Cross.
"In spite of travel limits, the disease continues to spread." The newsman pointed to a map of Virginia. More than half of it was red. He went on, "In Richmond, the consul is vowing revenge against Ohio."
A statue of Washington stood in Capitol Square in this Richmond, as one did in the home timeline. But this wasn't the same statue, and hadn't gone up at the same time. From the statue, the camera went to the consul's office inside the Capitol. Most states in this alternate had a consul instead of a president or a governor. It all added up to the same thing, though—this was the man in charge.
He didn't look like George Washington. He was a round little man with a bland face. But when he said, "Ohio will pay for the misery she is causing. She will pay more than we do, so help me God," you had to believe him. He wasn't the kind of man who kidded around or made jokes.
A jet plane—no, several jet planes—flew by over the motel, low enough to make the windows rattle, and Justin's teeth, too. At the same time, the consul said, "As a first step, I have ordered the VAF to strike targets in eastern Ohio. Further countermeasures will be taken in due course."
More slowly than Justin should have, he realized the VAF was the Virginia Air Force. More slowly still, he realized he'd just heard it heading into action. "They're going to blow things up!" he exclaimed.
"They sure are," Mr. Brooks said grimly. "And Lord only knows what happens next. Both these states have the bomb." Lots of states had the bomb in this alternate. So did lots of countries in Europe and Asia. It didn't get used very often, for the same reason it didn't get used very often in the home timeline. Once you let that genie out of the bottle, how did you put it back?