“Yes, I know of it: the discovery that leads to the decipherment of the hieroglyphics.”
“How strange,” Nordhausen started, then caught himself. “But that makes sense. You’ve been here since Napoleon landed. The variation shouldn’t have had any effect on your recollection. Can you read them?” The professor’s cheeks bore the heat of his excitement now.
“Read them? No. I was never that astute. I’ll leave that to the linguists. It’s just my job to keep watch here and look in on situations that might be… problematic. The last courier told me we got a variation alarm on the incident, and so now I have to be especially vigilant. Our touchstone bank indicated we were missing some vital data, and that’s enough to get alert flags flying all across the continuum.”
Maeve smiled. “I see Kelly’s RAM bank idea took hold.”
“Mr. Ramer? Oh my, there’s another genius. Why, if not for him the whole course of history would play out differently. He’s a Prima Majór, that’s what we call the really indispensable figures of history. It all comes from him, you see. Yes, Mr. Dorland was the initiator, and both of you are absolutely vital to the whole endeavor as well, but Mr. Ramer is the real lynchpin. It all rested on his shoulders. The Ramer Loop, the RAM bank as you call it, all came out of his head, and he set the template down that guides our operations even now. Why, without him it never even happens. In fact—it was never supposed to happen. It was his life that gave birth to this entire Meridian, and everything in it.”
Maeve had an admiring smile on her face. “You’re speaking of that first night now, aren’t you. You’re associated with Mr. Graves, and the people who sent him back the night of the Palma event.”
“Of course,” said LeGrand. “Graves was one of our Grand Masters. His research identified Mr. Ramer as the key to the whole operation. We had to preserve his integrity in the Meridian, or else none of this would have ever taken place.”
Nordhausen seemed deep in thought. “I’m not entirely sure I understand you,” he said. “You’re speaking of the final briefing on Memorial Day weekend before our planned mission to see The Tempest.”
“A fateful night, if I may say so,” LeGrand confirmed.
“Well… I may be a dolt when it comes to this time theory but, if I understand it correctly, Kelly was supposed to die that night—sorry Maeve.” He noticed the twinge in her face as he said that. “Kelly was to be killed in a senseless car accident, and we never had our first time mission. What I don’t understand is this: if that is so, then how was it you were able to send Mr. Graves back? If we never tested the theory, how did you travel in time? Is that a Paradox?”
“Paradox?” LeGrand’s jovial expression darkened at the word, and he cast a reflexive glance at the window. “No, that is not what we understand Paradox to be, but let us not speak of that just now. On the other hand… we are in a Nexus Point, and that does give us a bit of latitude until it resolves. I may be taking a risk in saying this but—”
“You found our research.” Maeve interrupted, matter of factly, and LeGrand breathed a sigh of relief.
“Yes! Exactly! Now that you’ve hit upon the answer yourself, I can explain the whole, if you like. You are quite shrewd, Miss Lindford. I should never underestimate you, my lady.”
Maeve smiled. “Do go on, Doctor LeGrand.”
“Of course. To put it plainly, Palma happened… Yes, I lived in that generation—the last generation of Western sires, or so we thought. We were desperate. The wave sets that destroyed the Eastern Seaboard set off a chain of events that would make your Hollywood movie moguls quite jealous. Suffice it to say that we were at our wit’s end, until we found Mr. Dorland’s research in the memorial site for Mr. Ramer. It was Graves who found it. That’s not his real name, but we have called him that because of his discovery at the cemetery. He hit on the idea that time travel was a possibility, and he was digging into every avenue of research on the subject he could find. Imagine his surprise when he literally dug up the whole of Mr. Dorland’s theory and project data where you had buried it with Mr. Ramer that first terrible week.”
“Buried it?” Nordhausen looked at Maeve, as if she had something to do with the events LeGrand was describing.
“That is what you did—in the previous Meridian—the original time line we now call the Prime Meridian. Mr. Ramer died that night and the grief was too heavy on the three of you to continue the project. It was buried, along with your friend’s body, and the whole matter was laid to rest. Then you all went about the business of trying to survive the horrors that followed. I will not speak any further of that…” His voice trailed off, his eyes now devoid of the mirthful light that had animated them before. LeGrand leaned in, speaking in a near whisper as he continued.
“So it was all found in a graveyard, buried for centuries, and Graves has borne that name with us ever since. He argued that we should attempt the project. We used all your research, and built an Arch with the last of our resources. It was very dangerous for us, you understand. The world bore little resemblance to the days of Western dominance and the reign of Democracy. Sharia was the order of the day. Islam ruled the earth with an iron fist of Koranic discipline. Christianity was all but eradicated. A few of us banded together, in secret, a hidden order struggling to survive in a world where the crucifix was deemed a blasphemy and a certain death mark for any who carried one.”
“Amazing,” said Nordhausen.
“Truly. But Mr. Graves was our own reincarnation of the savior, if I may speak metaphorically. He tested the Arch and found it would work. He created the Order in which we all now serve, and it was his research and determination that set us on a crusade to reverse Palma. It took us years to isolate the vectors and define a plan. The whole project was nearly uncovered three times by the Islamic Fedayeen, but, by some miracle, we preserved our cover. It was Palma… that was the key. But we could not get through the shadow that event cast upon the Prime Meridian. Then Graves had his second epiphany. There was a fully functioning Arch in place before Palma. We did not have to go back through the Shadow to a time well before to the target date to try and alter the event. If we could just reach the Arch in Berkeley, on the night of your final briefing, then we could take action from there, or at least enlist your support. The shadow was not yet formed. It offered us our only prospect for success.”
“Well,” said Nordhausen, “we were certainly happy to be of service but, quite frankly, I can’t think of a single thing we did on that mission to change the course of events. Paul will say the same.”
“Oh really?” LeGrand raised his eyebrows. “Here I was hoping you could enlighten me a bit on that question.”
“Sorry,” said Nordhausen. “We were just stumbling about, trying to find our way through the desert. The whole matter was nothing more than a fit of chance, I suppose. We never even laid eyes on this man we were looking for.” He looked at Maeve, the name escaping him.
“Masaui,” she offered.
“Yes,” said Robert. “Perhaps you could answer one other thing for me, Doctor: What was it that was so special about that man?”
“Masaui?” LeGrand tilted his head to one side, thinking. “Well, nothing, really. He was just a simple farmer and herder of sheep, from a humdrum village in the middle of Turkish occupied nowhere. But you see, that’s exactly the sort you have to look out for. He was the seed of our disaster, to be sure. Oh, it wasn’t Masaui, but his daughter Ada. She was the real problem. If Masaui lived out that train ride, then he goes on to have a daughter, Ada, born some years after the war, in 1922. She was a particularly fetching lady, it seems, and caught the eye of an Arab Emir, one Abu Abas al Sabar. They married in 1942, right in the middle of the second great war, and they had a daughter instead of a son. Now the grand terrorist, Ra’id Husan al Din, was supposed to be born of this Emir but, after the outcome at Minifir was altered, he never comes into being. In the Prime Meridian, time line that led to Palma, the Emir married… someone else. That was the marriage that gave birth to the terrorist, but it was prevented by the beauty and simplicity of Masaui’s daughter, Ada. Once the Emir laid eyes on her, he would have no other woman. Call it love, call it obsession—but whatever it was, it saves the Western world.”