Everything transformed.
My surroundings altered in drunken vision style: disorienting images and distorted shapes that slowly morphed into focus like a slap upside the head. One second I was in the hidden lab; the next I staggered onto the streets of a retro-styled city, similar at first glance to New Haven but only if the town reverted to the pre-Cataclysm 1940s era. The clothing styles didn't change too much: lots of men in floggers and fedoras, women in blazers, pleated skirts, and fashionable toppers. Some fashions never went out of style, so I blended right in. After I caught my breath and stopped staring like a fool, anyway.
Selene placed a hand on my shoulder. "Breathe, Mick. It's always a little disorienting the first time."
She was dressed in a stylish aviator jacket and sleek skirt, golden hair pinned up under a beret, looking completely at home as she strolled beside me, glancing at our surroundings. "Looks like Beck took us way back into time. He always did cling to the past."
Stars and stripes were everywhere, and the place had a celebratory air. The streets were crowded with people waving and shouting excitedly. I looked up as a squadron of shark-faced P-40 Warhawks roared by overhead, leaving streaks of vapor in their wake. Across the street, a handful of kids pointed and cheered, bright smiles on their faces. Steady crowds streamed in and out of a nine-story Beaux-Arts style building with Edw. Malley Co. emblazoned on the front. A group of teens loitered around a tall mounted clock on the corner of the street. I squinted at the street sign: Chapel and Temple.
Where the hell was I?
I tried to imitate Selene's coolness as we walked through a digital recreation of a bygone age, familiar enough but strangely alien at the same time. Glancing around, there was too much sunshine, and the sky was wide-open, shockingly blue and unobscured by looming skyscrapers and light pollution. No smog, no hazy streets, no air traffic, no hovercraft. Just rollers with sleek curves, buses, and cable cars transporting people to their destinations. There were a lot more smiles scattered around than I was used to. For the most part, people looked happy going about their business. The only difference from reality was everything was too perfect, like someone slapped a rosy filter on the entire town.
Thrusting my hands in my pockets, I strolled the avenue, soaking in the atmosphere. The experience was shockingly immersive: voices and sounds rang in my ears, the wind prickled the hairs on my neck. Dozens of scents tickled my nostrils: diesel fuel, fresh-baked cookies from the bakery, flowery perfume from a looker walking by, honeysuckle blooming on overhanging branches. The air in my lungs was cleaner than any I'd experienced, leaving me almost giddy from the sensation. My mind had no problem accepting the artificial reality, playing along as if in dream mode.
I turned to a freckle-faced, red-haired kid hawking newspapers on the sidewalk with the words New Haven Register printed across the top. "Hey, kid — gimme a paper."
He gave me a gap-toothed grin. "Sure thing, mister. That'll be a nickel."
I dug in my pocket, found a few coins, and gave him one. The headline shouted a proclamation in big block letters: PRESIDENT TRUMAN, CHURCHILL PROCLAIM VICTORY IN EUROPE, dated May 8, 1945.
"Hey, mister — this is a dollar."
I glanced down. "Keep the change, kid."
His eyes widened. "Gee — thanks, mister!"
"No prob. Say — I just got off the bus. So, this is New Haven, huh? What Territory is this?"
He pushed back his newsboy cap. "Territory? Don't you know where you are? Did ya just get back from the War?"
I looked at the paper. "The war? Oh yeah — just got back. Must've gotten off at the wrong stop. I guess I meant State, not Territory."
"This is New Haven, Connecticut. Were you in Germany? Did ya shoot any Nazis?"
A stout man in a storekeeper's apron stepped out of the nearby drugstore. "Hey, Jimmy — leave the nice man alone, now."
"But I was just asking—"
"I know you were." The man smiled. "He's a bit of a motormouth, but he means well."
I tipped my Bogart. "No problem at all."
"I overheard you saying you just back from the War."
"Sure did. Captain Michael Trudo, US Army."
He extended a hand. "Helluva thing, sir. Thank you for your service. Can't wait till we hand those Japs the same thing. Work's only halfway done, like Truman said."
"Tell me about it. Say — you wouldn't know a Glen Faraday, would you? Old friend — thought I'd check up on him while I'm here."
"Don't know a Glen Faraday, but there's Dr. Bernard Faraday, the physics whiz. He'll be at the university. Hardly ever leaves."
"Much appreciated."
"You need a lift?"
I glanced at Selene, who shook her head.
"No, thanks. We're taken care of."
I waved and continued walking, passing through crowds of celebrators cheering as a parade made its way along the street. Fire trucks and police cars with lights flashing, somber soldiers with rifles propped on shoulders, a marching band, and lines of gleaming black Lincoln Continentals with suited men and classy women waving to the crowds. I was so caught up in the atmosphere that I missed the mob of federal agents pushing their way through until they surrounded us. One of them pointed at Selene.
"Her. That's the one!"
She stiffened, hand darting to the inside of her coat. "What the hell?"
The feds shoved me aside as they rushed in, seized her arms, and pinned her to the storefront wall as onlookers stared in shock. Her green eyes glimmered in rage as she was cuffed. "This is Faraday's call, Mick. You tell him that I'm coming for him, one way or the other. Tell him that—"
She never finished her statement because the feds roughly snatched her up and shoved her into a waiting van. It squealed off when they slammed the doors, scattering townsfolk as it tore down the street, raising a cloud of dust and the stench of burnt rubber. I blinked, retreating into the safety of the crowd, but the feds didn't even look my direction at all as they yelled orders and settled the townspeople.
A sparkling onyx Cadillac Sixty Special pulled over to the curb right next to me. I was so distracted by the beauty of the ride that I almost missed the driver: slender, almond-complexion, oversized sunglasses shielding her eyes, and a leopard-print scarf wound around her dark, wavy hair. I recognized her immediately and somehow wasn't surprised to find her there.
Like she said once: she was always right where she needed to be.
I couldn't help smiling. "Hello, Ms. Sinn. What a surprise."
"Get in, Mike. We don't have a lot of time."
I entered on the passenger side, sliding into the cushioned interior and Sinn's scent of ginger and vanilla. She smoothly guided the Caddy down the street and away from the celebration, down avenues with neat colonial homes and manicured lawns. A tiny smile was on her ruby-stained lips, as if she knew my every thought and had a ready answer to every question I'd ask. Since she had a cyber-enhanced brain, that was probably the case.
"Don't worry about Selene, she'll be fine. For some reason, she closely resembles a German spy the FBI has been searching for. Bit of a mix-up, that's all. They won't be able to hold her for long, though. She is quite … formidable."
I grinned. "I take it Faraday didn't want her to be party to our little conversation."
"Precisely."
"So where exactly—?"
You're wondering where I am right now. Physically, that is. I'm not too far, actually. I've crunched the numbers and determined that you will need transportation out of the city, so I'm arranging that for you."