Drift pattern, p.27
Drift Pattern, page 27
His solemn expression changes to wide-eyed curiosity. “How far into the future?”
Luci stands up, and the tan paper around her makes a crinkling sound. “I don’t know. Let’s start within a century or so and see where that gets us. I’ve almost completed inverting everything that we did yesterday, turning the metaphorical ‘spokes’ from pointing inward to extending outward to future date corridors. Just hold off for a little longer about notifying anyone about the intruder and the notes. We’re so close, I can feel it. Just a little more time to finally solve all of this, and then we can tell Macer everything about what’s been going on around here.” Before he can argue, she adds, “I’ll take responsibility for everything so you won’t get in trouble, I promise.”
“I’m not worried about any of that. I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine. I’m certain they’re not coming here to harm me or they already would have, and they’re definitely not going to try anything while you’re here with me, so we have time to figure out the future skip points today, alright?”
He pauses to scan the sheet. With raised eyebrows, he asks, “You really did all this in five hours this morning?”
She’s relieved the conversation has shifted back to the work. “What can I say? I was in the zone. Anyway, I still have a few XgM arrays to convert, but you getting that list will allow us to define viable termination points.”
He nods. “Yeah, alright. I get where you’re going.”
She smiles and carefully tears the paper she’s connected to from the roll in such a way to keep her bottom half concealed. Taking small, constricted steps to the stairs, she announces, “No more of this ‘pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey’ shit.”
Before he can ask the meaning of the colloquialism from her time, Luci turns back to him and says, “I mean, we know what we’re looking for, and more importantly, how to find it. I’m going to get dressed and clean up while you sip.”
~ Ten~
Eager to return to her work, Luci bathes in less time than she ever has in her life. It’s more of a quick rinse than a shower. She looks forward to taking a long, steamy bath when she returns to her interval, which should be soon by her estimation now that they’ll be searching in the future instead of the past.
She quickly dresses and heads downstairs and is surprised that Ish isn’t at the pull basin doing a sip. “What’s wrong?” she asks.
He lowers the large sheet of her numbers that he’s been reviewing. “Oh, nothing’s wrong. It just that the information is restricted.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I ‘m not. I guess it’s because it’s illegal to leap skip to a forward juncture.”
Luci continues to brush through her damp hair as she takes her spot on the sofa. “Yeah, why is that a thing anyway, illegal to go forward? I was brought forward.”
Ish shrugs. “It’s always been that way with us in Relicus City.” He slides the sheet to her. “I think I’ve got this one ready.”
His penmanship is improving. His numbers are at least uniform in size now, even if there’s a slight tilt to them. Luci nods. “Yeah, these are good. Only two more to go.”
“I contacted Security Minister Cavazos to send us information about the future skip point junctures,” Ish says.
Her eyebrows raise, but she keeps her protest to herself.
“He sounded like he needed to get approval.”
“Approval?” she scoffs, picking up one of the plastic components. It looks like an oversized TV remote from when she was a child. “Approval from whom?”
“Probably Chancellor Macer, I guess.”
Luci shakes her head. “Even in the future, bureaucracy survives.” She picks up another component, this one shaped like a small p-trap kit for a sink. Holding the two items up, she asks, “What is all this stuff?”
Ish looks down at the floor. “It’s just something that I was going to show you.”
“Okay . . .” Luci begins curiously as she slides closer, thrusting the two parts at him. “So show me.”
Ish takes the pieces, placing them on the couch between them. “Later would be better.”
She laughs, cocking her head back. “You should know me well enough to know that I’m too curious of a person to accept that.” She grabs the parts and extends them again playfully. She wiggles them at him. “Don’t be shy. Just show me.” She remembers something and pulls the pieces in to her chest. “Wait, is this the reason you didn’t stay here last night?” Before he can respond, she asks, “Is this the special project that you’ve been working on? Am I the friend that you were doing the thing for that you were so guarded about yesterday?”
His arms cross, and he looks as if he wishes he could turn invisible.
Smiling, Luci prods, “Well?”
His answer is as soft as it can be while being audible. “Maybe.”
She’s relieved that the secret person wasn’t another woman but her. She finds it oddly curious just how much of a relief this news is.
Ish finally makes eye contact. “I had an idea for something, but it seems silly now. Maybe I can show you some other time.”
“Absolutely not,” she says firmly, gathering the three remaining components to hand to him. “I’ve been stuck under house arrest for five days now without any internet, my phone, coffee, TV, gym, crowds to people watch . . . nothing but DPM. Whatever this is or does is a welcome distraction. If you deprive me of this, I swear I’ll go crazy. So set this up or whatever you’ve got to do here. You said that we have to wait until Cavazos transmits the data to your Viatorio anyway.” She pushes up from the sofa and heads for some paper. “I’ll work on the two remaining inversions while you assemble whatever this is.”
Ish doesn’t move.
“Are you going to do it or not?” Luci asks, feeling a twinge of regret at how aggressive she sounds. “Please?”
Even from across the room, she can tell he’s perturbed. He makes a flicking gesture. “I’m doing it. I’m summoning the concierge is all.”
Luci feigns interest in working out the final equations of this phase, but in truth, she keeps stealing peeks at what he’s doing to the bot.
She realizes that for the first time in as long as she can remember, the lure of mathematics has taken second place to something else. She smiles and gnaws the side of her pencil, wondering where the Luci G. that she knows went off to.
She finishes before Ish and furtively sits on the couch on the opposite side of the pull basin.
“I can feel you watching me,” he says without looking up from fastening one of the components to the side of the concierge bot.
“I’m not watching you,” Luci protests and makes a point of stretching. “I’m just taking a quick nap. Let me know when you’re ready.” She demonstrates with an overdramatic yawn to sell her fib. Through the slit of her right eye, she still watches, but what he’s working on remains a mystery.
“I’ve got it ready,” Ish says, nudging her awake a few minutes later.
“How long was I out?” she asks, realizing her hair has dried. She must’ve been more tired than she thought.
“Not too long,” Ish answers. “It’s ready if you still want to see it.”
Luci sits up and does a stretch of her arms that would make any cat from her time interval envious. “If I still want to see it? Of course I do.”
“Come around here,” Ish instructs, motioning to behind the circular sofas. “We’ll need some room.”
Luci complies. After another yawn, she asks, “So what is it?”
Ish bends to the floating bot that’s now “wearing” the different components he brought. He presses a button as he announces, “Dr. Gaudiano, would you do dance with me?”
She doesn’t correct his use of the phrase as the music begins to play somewhere from within the hovering robot. Answering with a nod and a smile, she clasps her hand in his and leans in. “Of course I would.”
A majestic intro with an exuberant brass section, snapping snare drums, and high-pitched flutes echo throughout the room. She laughs but doesn’t pull away. “This is a marching band. It’s not—”
The wounded look on his face stops her from telling him that the tune isn’t conducive to slow dancing. They move stiffly to a driving beat written for high stepping marchers. Luci concentrates to block out the music as she manipulates the stilted body of her dance partner. After three minutes and fifteen seconds, the recording repeats.
She cautiously asks, “Do you have . . . is there anything else, other music, or just this recording?”
Even though the question is presented delicately, Ish’s face tells all—he’s mortified. “I’m sorry, are the musics inappropriate? Did I choose a combi theme?”
“Combi?”
He releases her, quickly dropping to one knee to stop the bot from playing. “Combi . . . a copulation musics theme or something.”
She lowers to his level to look into his eyes. “Oh no, it’s nothing like that. It’s a very good song, it’s just that it’s written for a bunch of people to sort of dance on a football field.” She knows she’ll never be able to accurately explain this, so she tries to humor him. “What’s it called . . . the song?”
His mouth is a straight line. “It’s called ‘Army of the Nile.’ It’s from pre-Hi no Kawa, 1941. My research on this file says it was performed by the Regimental Band of the Coldstream Guards.” His face bears a confused expression. “I thought you’d like it. It was difficult to get from the archives.”
“Regimental Band, huh?” She takes his hand, and by standing, brings him upright again. “I like it very much, but for dancing—slow dancing—it’s just a little too formal for my taste.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let me show you.” She returns his hand on her back shoulder and begins to sway with him as she sings: “Love is real, real is love . . . Love is feeling, feeling love . . . Love is wanting to be loved.”
Feeling some of the tension leave his body, Luci gently presses her head against his chest. “Love is touch, touch is love . . . Love is reaching, reaching love . . . Love is asking to be loved.”
After this verse, she arches her neck back to look into his hazel eyes. “Better, right?”
“Your . . . your voice is beautiful,” Ish says in astonishment.
She shrugs and dismisses the comment. “It’s a song from a great writer of the twentieth century named John Lennon. The song is called ‘Love’.”
It’s raining harder now, pounding on the pinnacle of the dome roof above their heads.
“Do it again,” Ish requests. “Sing Love, please.”
“There’s another verse and bridge,” she says, feeling his restrained strength.
As Luci finishes the song, she slows the motion of their steps until they’re standing still, holding each other in silence. “See, a much better song to dance to than one intended to be played by a high school marching band.” She qualifies her words, “But I think what you did was very sweet, and I appreciate the thought. Thank you, Ish.”
Luci leans in to give him a peck on the cheek, but Ish pulls away. “Sorry,” she says with embarrassment.
“No, don’t apologize,” Ish says. “I just wasn’t ready is all.”
She leans in for the peck for a second time, but he shifts, positioning himself to engage her lips. The moment is both electric and terrifying. She feels his body tense up against hers and wonders if he can feel her heart racing. The rational part of her mind rises up with the explanation that this illogical response must be due to sleep deprivation. No other reasonable answer exists.
But it feels so good, so warm, despite the nonsense of it all. She feels whole in a way that she’s never experienced with her ex-fiancé, Michael.
The kiss tapers off, and Luci’s eyelids slowly open to Ish’s brilliant hazel eyes. She gently caresses the side of his face. “You may not know much about dancing and music, but you sure know how to kiss.”
He replies with a soft press of his lips against her open palm. “I think I’d like to stay here tonight, if that’s alright with you.” He sheepishly adds, “You know, in case the intruders come back.”
“Huh? Oh yeah, alright. In case the note guy returns, right.” She’d forgotten about her early morning mystery correspondent.
She presses the side of her face back against his chest. With her eyes closed, she concentrates on the steady strength of his heartbeat. Luci chuckles and looks back up to him. “I just realized that ‘Army of the Nile’ is going to be our song.”
“Our song?” Ish says with a quizzical expression. “I don’t know what that means.”
“I know you don’t,” she replies, locking onto his open mouth with abandon. It’s even more exhilarating than the other kiss, and a delicious shiver runs through her body.
“I seriously don’t think you’ll find Cyphor Gicul in your assistant’s mouth, Miss Gaudiano,” a nasal voice says from across the room.
Both Luci and Ish snap apart like a spring-loaded trap.
Cavazos’s words ooze with sarcasm as he toddles toward them. “Hopefully you’re celebrating because you’ve got it all figured out. Am I right?”
Ish’s dark skin hides his blush, but Luci feels her cheeks burning up.
Two cybos dripping with rainwater flank the heavyset man on his left and right, their putrid stench coming off in waves.
“So, have you figured anything out or not?” Cavazos asks, making his way to the sofa to sit.
Luci’s heart sinks a little as Ish takes a couple of steps away from her in submissive retreat. She studies the two cybos that have halted at the edge of the couch behind Cavazos, specifically their churkas at the ready. “Hey, I don’t want them in here,” she grumbles, still self-conscious about being caught with Ish.
“Need I remind you that you are a visitor . . . a visitor to my city?” the hefty man responds snidely. “You really don’t have a say in the matter.”
Ish crosses his arms as he addresses him, “Sir, I can—”
Cavazos raises an eyebrow in mockery. “Mr. Moyta, you wouldn’t be stretching your work release out here, would you now?” He asks in a way so lecherous that it sickens Luci. He adds with sickening delight, “I’m sure it would be considered a crime if it were to be discovered that you’re lengthening the project to have combi with our distinguished guest. Is that what you’re doing here, boy?”
He stammers, but before he can respond, Luci sharply says, “You’re a pervert.”
Seemingly amused, Cavazos gives her a wink. “More than you can imagine, my dear Miss Gaudiano.” Waving a plump hand in the air indicating for them to return to business, he says, “All kidding aside, you’ve been working on this for almost a week. Are you any closer to stopping these terrorists than when you first began?”
Ish studies his own shoes, but Luci looks over to the lethargic beast of a man plopped down on the sofa. “We believe . . .” she begins but stops short, knowing that all they have is conjecture that Gicul is hiding in the future, no hard evidence to support the theory.
“Yes?” Cavazos responds, irritated by her pause. “You believe what?”
Ish peeks up at her, catching her eye. She shakes her head. “We . . . we don’t know. We need a little more time. We need the coordinates to the future skip junctures that Ish asked you for this morning.”
“Yes, that’s partly why I’m here. The chancellor approved the request but restricted the transmission to a one-to-one relay.”
Luci tilts her head at the new term.
“It requires us to do it in person,” Cavazos explains, “not a broadcast over the Viatorio or Basin networks.”
“So a closed-circuit type thing?” she asks.
“Something like that.” He clicks his Viatorio and addresses Ish. “The data file will only be viewable to you for a little over an hour after you launch the packet, after which it will re-encrypt and ‘evaporate’ from your V-posit viewer, so don’t waste time once you open it.” He snidely adds, “I’d rather not have to come back here again. In fact, you’re lucky that I was already headed here this morning.”
“Headed here for what?” Luci asks, folding her arms against her chest.
Cavazos grunts as he makes the effort to move his heavy frame to stand erect. “We’re going on a little trip.” Vertical now, he fidgets with the small, flat onyx rectangle dangling around his neck. “You’re coming with me.”
She wanted a break from being sequestered in the guesthouse, but not like this . . . not with this man. Ish’s eyes are as wide as hers. Looking back at Cavazos, she protests, “No, we need to stay here. We need to sort the data out. You said we only have an hour before it—”
“Not the two of you,” he says, shaking his head while snapping on a set of WIBs on his fingers. “He stays, just you.”
This was exactly what she wanted to avoid by keeping the notes secret. Now she and Ish are to be separated. “Ish, you’ve got to contact Macer or Royse and tell them that—”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Cavazos interrupts, his pinkish face turning red.
“You can’t do this,” Luci says. “We need to stay together.”
“Why? So you can finish doing what I walked in on?” His voice raises. “Would you have me and my cybos wait outside in the corridor for fifteen minutes for the two of you to complete that ‘task’?” He shoots a look over to Ish. “I’m a generous person. Perhaps I’ll give you twenty-five minutes with her. What do you say to that?”
“That’s uncalled for, sir,” Ish answers through gritted teeth.
His assertiveness surprises Luci. From the day they first met, he’s always recoiled in the presence of his superiors. He has to know how dangerous standing up to him is.
Before she can stop him, Cavazos retaliates in a huff, “Uncalled for, huh? I don’t know DPM like the two of you do, but I don’t think that was it.”
