Chapter 11 - The second test
The next day Dr. Shammas came to find me. He was waiting outside the door of my first class, looking out of place in his white lab coat. He pulled me aside, with a light hand on my shoulder, away from the other students as we all exited the room. I saw Ava looking at us closely as she left.
"I was wondering how you've been feeling, Dara. Any more queasiness or bouts of vomiting?" I think he was going for concerned, but he sounded hopeful to me.
"Nope. I've been great. Just great. It's definitely gone away," I lied.
"Well, there was a bit of an anomaly in your eye tests from a couple weeks ago, and we want to try another diagnostic on you. We're afraid that you might have a condition called Sjogren's Disorder, that affects your optic nerve." Dr. Shammas was not a good liar. He didn't make good eye contact when he got to the hard part, and he started to mumble a little. Some master of deception he is.
I saw John come around the corner and freeze, looking at me. He backed away and stood nonchalantly on the other side of the water fountain. Dr. Shammas was still talking, and I tried to focus on him.
"It can cause flashes of light, unnatural pupil dilation, and vertigo. It could have been causing your sickness, but the last test was inconclusive. We want to help you figure this out before it starts bothering you again." He was trying harder with the eye contact now, but he was also trying to sound warm and caring and the combination was giving me chills. Not to mention his coffee breath making me a little sick.
"I don't think I have that problem," I protested, "I haven't felt sick in days, and I don't see flashes of light, or anything." John was shaking his head at me, but I didn't know what he meant. That this was bad? I knew that.
"Well, we all hope not, indeed, but since there is the possibility, we must check. I've already cleared it with your parents. I wanted them to know that we'll do everything we can to make sure you're in good shape. Now, I understand that you have a free period after lunch today, so please come by my office at 1:00."
Now John was nodding, giving me a thumbs up. I went with it, intending to punch him later.
"Alright, one o'clock."
As soon as Dr. Shammas was gone I dragged John into an empty classroom.
"I thought you said this wouldn't happen! Why did you tell me to go along with it? I seriously don't want to see those people dying again. Plus, I found something out. Did you know that they've been experimenting with Ava? All year, I think. Maybe your Professor Hyto got his info wrong. Maybe Emily wasn't the key to the plan, maybe it's Ava!"
"Oh." John was silent for a moment, processing. "I'll definitely have to check in with Professor Hyto. I'm starting to wonder about his information: if he was wrong about Emily, plus missing you and Ava, maybe he's got it all wrong. Or maybe he's right, and we should stop dithering around and take Shammas down before anything happens."
"Which brings us back to me! Why did you tell me to agree to another test?! Isn't that what we're trying to avoid?" I felt justifiably annoyed.
"No, see, I've been thinking about this," John said quickly, "this is the best way to deal with him. I'll show you how to stay perfectly together during the test: no tunnels, no visions. That will be the best way, probably the only way, to convince Shammas that you aren't the one for his experiment. After that he'll leave you alone, and then we'll figure out how to get Ava away from him too."
"If you're absolutely positive I can handle it this time, and I mean positive, then I guess that could work," I admitted.
We met at lunch to talk tactics.
"Okay, here's the thing. The machine is pumping electromagnetic energy into that room like crazy, and also a slight sedative into the air, possibly some narcotic. Both of those things are going to make your body drowsy and prone to travel. The images are mostly a blind, I think, except that they intersperse pulses of ultraviolet light, which also tends to make your brain try to, you know, travel.
"So, the best way to deal with this is to drain some of the static energy and counteract the drugs. Your brain needs all 100% of its duramatter to build the tunnel, so if you stay alert, using as much of your brain as possible, you won't be able to travel."
The practical application was that I would fill my pockets with iron filings John filched from the machine lab, which would help absorb some of the energy. Apparently they were magnetically neutral or something like that, and so would provide a ‘path’ of least resistance that would draw some of the energy away from my brain. I showed him the metal rod I found, and he said I could include it in my pockets as well. He wasn't sure if it was iron or not, but I found it calming and reassuring so it couldn't hurt.
He explained more, but I didn’t get it all. He had me drink two Jolts, for the caffeine, and a bowl of ice cream, for the sugar. I added a banana to the mix to keep my stomach from exploding. That would foul up our genius plan, I was sure.
“By the way,” I said, dutifully downing my second Jolt, “why do you eat so many bananas?”
“Oh, because they’re extinct. They will be soon, anyway. There’s a virus destroying banana crops. Your scientists are trying to breed a resistant strain, but they’re not going to make it.”
“Really?” I said, “What a bummer. I like bananas.”
“I know, they’re fantastic. I’d never had one before, you see, and so I have to make up for 20 years of banana-less living.”
“Oh,” I said, “Twenty.”
“Hmm? Oh, Professor Hyto thought I should enroll as a sophomore so I would have more time here. We didn't know how long it would take to get rid of Emily, plus I need to observe Dr. Shammas to the end. Hyto wanted to go with freshman, but we decided that was pushing it."
“You don't look much like a sophomore either.” I knew in the grand scheme of things it didn’t make any difference for me how old John was. It’s not like this was a real relationship. But I couldn’t help feeling that it put him even more out of my league. I was getting to be so comfortable with him, but occasionally it would strike me again that he was an adult (a very good-looking adult) doing a job. Who probably wouldn’t have anything to do with me if time and space hadn’t intervened. The fact that he was twenty to my seventeen made me feel like a dorky little kid.
John looked at his watch. “It's a quarter to one, you ready to go?"
“Yep, I guess."
“Remember the back up plans,” he reminded me as I left.
I walked alone to Dr. Shammas’ office, and found him there with Mr. Ringer. He was clinking his syringes again, staring at me. Dr. Shammas was disturbed no doubt, but Mr. Ringer was leagues ahead of him in the creepy race. Why had he followed me to the library that one time? And why was he in my room last night? I'd forgotten to ask John about that.
“Oh, yes, this is Mr. Ringer, he’s our senior biology instructor, but sometimes he helps me out,” Dr. Shammas said.
"I know, we met last time."
Ringer gave me a speculative look. No smile, no pretense. He knew what I was here for, and he wasn’t trying to soothe me.
"You can leave your backpack here." Dr. Shammas went on, going over his excuse for this test again. I mostly looked at him, but I kept Ringer in the corner of my eye. When Dr. Shammas ushered me out of his office I could almost have sworn Ringer rolled his eyes.
In the testing room again, I climbed up cooperatively into the chair. It looked like an optometrist chair, but now that I was paying attention I could tell it was too bulky. The back was too deep, and there was extra machinery under the footrest.
I was feeling a little sick, probably from all the coke I’d drunk, and definitely keyed up. I shouldn’t have any trouble staying alert with all the stimulants in my system. I tried to look relaxed, leaning my head back like I was bored this time around. Dr. Shammas took extraordinary care setting things up, but Mr. Ringer never came in. I assumed he was watching from another room, via closed circuit. John told me he was certain they filmed everything, to evaluate later. They couldn’t see a time tunnel, but they could observe the reactions to the student’s body to determine what might have happened.
"You have a bruise. Is it from when you fell out of the chair last time?" Dr. Shammas lifted my arm.
"What?" I looked at my arm and noticed I did have a large bruise above my wrist. Probably nobody saw it because I always had my coat on. "Oh. I guess so. It doesn't hurt."
"Would you like to have a strap to keep you from perhaps falling again?" He glanced at the neon yellow strapping on the wall. "Like a seat belt?" he amended. I started to lose my nerve.
"I do NOT want to be strapped down!"
"Fine, fine. Whatever you want."
Finally Dr. Shammas left, and turned off the lights. The images started up, a different set than last time. I sat up straight in the chair, which was only barely reclined, looking at the images and trying to think clearly about each one. I filled my mind with this exercise.
Two puppies, sleeping in a wicker basket. A profusion of green ferns: probably John could tell me what they were. A highway, cars: I thought of all the car shapes I’d collected while driving here with Carly. Clouds, cumulus: I thought of the tornado warnings we would get at home in Texas and what those clouds looked like. This went on and on, how long had it been, ten minutes, thirty? I caught my eyelids drooping and started clenching the muscles in my legs rhythmically, the way John showed me, to force blood to my brain. Eventually that wasn’t enough and I tried biting my tongue. How on earth could I be this sleepy with all the caffeine I'd had?
The discomfort helped me regain ground and I thought about the images again. An ax: stone age, or was it bronze age? A baby swinging in a playground swing: she looked like my niece, Gracie. I jerked myself up, it wasn’t working! I moved my fingers slowly, lethargically toward my right jean pocket. I wriggled my hand until I got my fingers around the metal rod. I experienced a surge of energy. It pushed the lethargy away for a while. A welcome break.
Even that wasn't enough, after another 20 pictures. I pushed the rod to the bottom of my pocket and felt around for the sewing pin that was in there. This was our second to last backup plan. I hoped it worked. The last plan was to fake an epileptic fit and throw myself on the floor.
I grabbed the pin and jabbed it into the outer part of my thigh, through the pocket of my jeans. Ouch! I couldn’t help jerking a little, and my eyes watered. I managed to blink back the tears though, and I was clear headed again. I found the effects only lasted a matter of minutes. So I jabbed again. I chewed John out under my breath, and myself, and Dr. Shammas, too. I waited until I was drooping, and jabbed again. Wait, droop, jab. And again.That section of my leg began to throb. The pain wasn’t that bad, but I didn’t know how long I would have to keep this up, and the anticipation was killer. I did it again. How long would they keep this going? I thought I’d probably been in here an hour, more or less. Would they keep going until something happened?
Wait, I thought. Let’s pretend I’m not an aspen... My brain agreed. Sure! Let's say you're a tree, or a trike or a truck... I imagined myself as a truck surging into a tunnel – but then I jabbed myself again and my thoughts cleared.
Wow, it was so hard to think clearly. I started over: Let’s pretend I’m not a traveler. I'm a normal person. I’m seeing all these pictures, I’m getting bored. I don’t know there’s anything to be afraid of, I don’t know anything. What would I do? You might take a nap, my brain told me, you might sleep, or weep, or ride in a jeep – shoot. There came the tunnel again. What's up with the car imagery? I wondered. One more jab in the leg and I tried again. If I was just a normal person, if I didn't know what was going on here - I would be annoyed, that's what I'd be. I hopped off the chair before my brain could start more rhyming nonsense. I pretended to look around, like I wasn’t sure what to do.
“Dr. Shammas?” I called tentatively, “Can you hear me?” I waited a moment and then went to the door. I felt woozy and light headed, like I'd been holding my breath. I steadied myself on the door frame. I was determined to appear normal until I got out of here.
I opened the door and the bright fluorescent hall lights were a welcome relief to my brain. Dr. Shammas and Mr. Ringer hurried out the office door into the hall.
“Oh, there you are,” I said, with feigned annoyance. “Look, I’ve been in there forever. Haven’t you got what you need by now? I mean, I’ve got a ton of classwork to get done this afternoon. And I need to pee.” That, at least, was quite true. Those Jolts were making me uncomfortable now. I glared at Dr. Shammas, with what I hoped was a frustrated, bored, not-in-the-know kind of look.
“Well, I guess, um, I do appreciate your patience with this,” Dr. Shammas looked disappointed and uncertain. I'd obviously taken his cake away. He looked at Mr. Ringer and Ringer shook his head slightly, muttering something that sounded like 'fluke.' Did he think that my travel last time was a fluke, or that my lack of success today was a fluke? I sure hoped it was the first one.
Dr. Shammas nodded at Ringer and said, “Sure, you can go Dara. We’ll let you know soon what we find out.” He tried to sound up-beat and jovial, but I could hear the disappointment in his voice.
For once, I left his office smiling. Time would tell if they were convinced or not, but I thought I’d done a darn good job.
John's face was puckered with worry and he nearly pounced on me as I exited the building. “Are you okay?!” he asked, “You were in there too long!”
“Was I? What time is it?” I asked, staggering a little. Now that the acting was done I felt exhausted. John glanced back at the building, probably checking windows, before he put his arm around my waist. I needed the support. My adrenaline was fading and I could hardly stand.
“It’s nearly three, you were in there for almost two hours. What happened? You look happy- is that a good sign?” He kept his arm around me as we walked. It probably looked affectionate, but I knew he was trying to help me walk without stumbling, in case Shammas or Ringer took a look out the window.
“You’d be proud of me,” I said, “I didn’t see the tunnel once. Well, not the real tunnel anyway. And no visions! I didn’t even have to resort to epilepsy.” I winced thinking of the pin. My leg still hurt.
"But then what’s the matter?” John asked, catching my expression.
“Nothing, I was just wondering…” I pulled my pocket inside out and a cloud of metal filings fluttered away in the breeze. The white material of my pocket was stained with blood.
“Oh, Dara, I'm sorry,” John said. “For me, it's an effort to travel, even when everything is perfect- but you must have incredible talent to have to fight so hard. You must be much more attuned to traveling than me. I was overconfident, I shouldn’t have made you do it!" He was still supporting a lot of my weight, and I tried to straighten up a little more, shift my weight to the other side.
“No, come on,” I said, “it’s not that bad, a couple scratches. If I’ve convinced them, then it’s worth it. And now, well, you know that I’m committed too. I want to make sure Dr. Shammas is stopped. I want to help.”
“I don’t know what to say. Thanks, I guess,” John finally said.
“You’re quite welcome.” I felt oddly confident.
“Let’s go for a walk,” he said, holding my hand in his. “You can tell me all about Texas, before it secedes from the U.S. and takes over Mexico.
"Seriously?" I gasped.
"Nope, kidding."
Our 'walk' turned out to be John half carrying me back to the dorm, so I could use the bathroom, and then to our nook behind the Christmas trees. The blanket was there, a couple cans of soda, and of course, a big bunch of bananas. I leaned back against the wall and stretched my legs out in front of me, pointing my toes. "That feels good. I feel like I just jogged a few miles or something."
I shuddered at the coke John was drinking, "Just in case you don't know this in the future, but caffeine is bad for you and very addictive."
"No really?" he said sarcastically, taking a long drink. "Believe me, another 5 or 6 generations living on the stuff and it's potency goes down a lot. In other words, I have a much higher tolerance for caffeine than anybody alive today. In fact, I had major withdrawal when I first got here. I thought the time travel had screwed with my brain and I was scared to death!" He laughed. "I thought maybe I'd accidentally recreated my body with cancer or something. But then I realized it was because the jacks didn't have enough caffeine."
"Jacks?" I asked.
"You know, cokes, sodas, pop- we call them jacks."
"Huh," I said around a mouthful of banana. "So tell me something else about the future. When we were buying coats you said you'd never met a red-head?"
"Oh, no, it's rare now - I mean, in my time. I've heard there are pockets of red heads in Ireland and Scotland- but it's almost gone from the general population. It's a recessive trait, you see, and with all the blending that's occurred...it died out." He tucked a strand behind my ear, smiling.
"So, what are you?" I asked, "I mean, you look sort of Native American, but your skin tone seems kinda African, and your eyes look vaguely Asian."
"That's how everybody is now. Not exactly like me, of course, but several waves of immigration between Africa and the Eastern Hall and the US - it mixed everybody up. Dark skin is dominant, you know, so there are a lot more dark skinned people in the US and the Woc than there are now."
"Woc?" I asked again.
"Uh, Western bloc. W-oc."
"Weird," I said. "So- no nuclear war? That's a relief."
"Yep. Of course, now I'm here mucking around in the past, so who knows what could happen?" he said cheerfully. "Someday someone horrible is going to find out how to time travel and then it'll all go up in smoke."
"You're quite the optimist, aren't you? Seriously, do you think Shammas could be that guy? Not with the nuclear war, of course, but with his plan to unmake everything?" I asked, turning serious.
"I've thought about that a lot since I got here. Professor Hyto told me all about him before I came, and I have to admit, I expected someone a bit more villainous. Shammas is a little weird, but he doesn't have the world-terrorist vibe." John shrugged his shoulders. "Still, it's possible, I guess. He definitely has developed technology far beyond his peers, so he's no idiot. I've been wondering lately if maybe his assistant is the one to worry about. Have you seen him?"
"Mr. Ringer definitely gets my creepy vote. He was in my room last night, and he's followed me a couple times." I told John how he kept popping up. "What do Professor Hyto's records say about him? Does he get arrested with Shammas?"
"I don't think so. He's not in the newspaper clippings, anyway. That's disturbing about your room..." John trailed off in thought.
"Do you think if he suspects I'm lying, he'll start to suspect you too?" I asked.
"He might. I was worried about them catching me at first, but they don't seem to have any way to detect a copy. I thought they were onto me, because Shammas had me come in for a 'hearing' test a week after school started. I knew for sure it had something to do with time travel- I could feel the energy tapping at my link - but then they let me go. I found out later they did all the incoming students. That must be when they found Ava. I'm still not sure what to do about her." He sighed. " Anyway, I guess they didn't realize who I was, or else Shammas is much better at lying than he seems to be."
"I doubt it," I said, thinking of his sad performance earlier, "but we should still be careful. Even if he and Ringer don't know you're from the future, they might get curious as to why you keep getting thrown up on."
John laughed wickedly, "That is a concern. I'm thinking I should come up behind you in lunch and have you let loose all over Jayden. That should muddy the water."
I blushed, cursing my transparent skin. "What happened in that storm, by the way?" I asked, changing the subject. "That was the only time you didn't make me sick."
"Except for now," he said, rubbing his hand on my arm to show me. "You hadn't noticed, had you? I suspect it's related to the electrical reserves in your brain. You're depleted right now, because of the bombardment you took in the test. The night of the storm you'd been zapped with lightning. Probably it short circuited the part of your brain that is sensitive to time travel copies, like me. That's my theory anyway."
"Weird," I said again.
"Bummer," he added.
It was the closest he ever got to saying he wished our relationship could be more. That he might like to be something besides partners-to-monitor-the-mad-scientists-and-prevent-world-wide-destruction. That wasn't a terrible relationship, don't get me wrong. It had the intimacy of a small clique, plus the excitement of danger. The main thing it lacked was permanence. John had a defined task here, and a deadline. Sooner or later he would have to go back to his own time. This temporally-unreal copy he was living in would die, or dissolve, or whatever it did when he wasn't there anymore. So however I felt, however he felt, we had no future.