companion. When it’s paired with another Chaser, the device deflects onto the companion a considerable amount of the pain its Rewinder would otherwise experience.” She sees I’m having a hard time following her and says, “Let’s say you travel back five years, like we did the other day. You experience, at most, a minor headache. Your companion, resting here in one of these rooms, will have a headache, too, only a much stronger one.”
“But I didn’t have a companion when we went back.” I pause. “Did I?”
“You were slaved to my device, so my companion served both of us. Since we weren’t going back too far, it wasn’t difficult for her. All right, so now let’s say you go two hundred years into the past, taking it in a single jump. Your head would pound and you’d likely be sick to your stomach, and it’d be an hour or so before you feel normal again. Your companion, however, would be consumed by a migraine and muscle spasms that could last all day, if not longer. If you didn’t have him, all that pain would be on you, and you’d arrive unable to function at all, meaning the chances of you being discovered skyrocket.”
“So we don’t make trips without companions,” I say.
“Technically, it’s possible, but I wouldn’t try it if I were you. Especially since your companion serves the second and perhaps even more important role of being your beacon home. The farther you have to travel to get back here, the less accurate you become. Not in time. You’ll always get the time right. What I mean is physical location. A jump of a few hours or even a couple of days, and you can land precisely where you want without any help. Even a week or two will get you within a few feet of your desired location. But when you stretch that to years—again, like two hundred—no matter what location you’ve entered into your device, you could end up hundreds of miles away without your companion. Which, on a bad day, might put you in the middle of the ocean. The Chaser is able to use the companion’s gene signature—which is what the devices use to bind together—to deliver you directly into the arrival hall here at Upjohn Hall.”
I feel as if I’ve fallen through a magic hole into a dreamland where nothing is real. And yet I’ve traveled through time myself, so is this really that much more to accept?
Someone taps on the door and then opens it. It’s one of the data monitors.
“We have a departure in a couple minutes,” he says.
“Ah, good. Thank you,” Marie tells him. She turns back to me. “This is what we came to see.”
__________
I PEEK OVER the shoulder of the attendant, careful not to get in the way of Lidia or the other two trainees who have joined us. On the video screen is an alternate spectrum shot of a female companion lying on her bed. The colors of the image range from white-blue to dark blue to black. After a few seconds go by, another person enters the room and connects some wires to the reclining woman’s head and upper chest, then straps her arms and legs into padded restraints.
“Those are for monitoring her vital signs,” the data attendant says, then points at the other monitor. The graph on it was flat when we arrived but now has sprung to life.
I look at it for a moment but can’t even pretend to understand what the lines mean, so I focus back on the other monitor.
“And the restraints?” David, one of the other trainees, asks.
“Just watch,” his instructor tells him.
A small square opens on the lower left portion of the main monitor, displaying another camera feed, this one originating from what I recognize as the departure hall. It’s focused on a man probably twice my age standing on one of the platforms.
After the man gives a hand signal, the data attendant leans forward and says into a microphone, “Stand by.”
The person in the companion’s room checks the restraints. When he waves at the camera, the data operator touches a button and says
“But I didn’t have a companion when we went back.” I pause. “Did I?”
“You were slaved to my device, so my companion served both of us. Since we weren’t going back too far, it wasn’t difficult for her. All right, so now let’s say you go two hundred years into the past, taking it in a single jump. Your head would pound and you’d likely be sick to your stomach, and it’d be an hour or so before you feel normal again. Your companion, however, would be consumed by a migraine and muscle spasms that could last all day, if not longer. If you didn’t have him, all that pain would be on you, and you’d arrive unable to function at all, meaning the chances of you being discovered skyrocket.”
“So we don’t make trips without companions,” I say.
“Technically, it’s possible, but I wouldn’t try it if I were you. Especially since your companion serves the second and perhaps even more important role of being your beacon home. The farther you have to travel to get back here, the less accurate you become. Not in time. You’ll always get the time right. What I mean is physical location. A jump of a few hours or even a couple of days, and you can land precisely where you want without any help. Even a week or two will get you within a few feet of your desired location. But when you stretch that to years—again, like two hundred—no matter what location you’ve entered into your device, you could end up hundreds of miles away without your companion. Which, on a bad day, might put you in the middle of the ocean. The Chaser is able to use the companion’s gene signature—which is what the devices use to bind together—to deliver you directly into the arrival hall here at Upjohn Hall.”
I feel as if I’ve fallen through a magic hole into a dreamland where nothing is real. And yet I’ve traveled through time myself, so is this really that much more to accept?
Someone taps on the door and then opens it. It’s one of the data monitors.
“We have a departure in a couple minutes,” he says.
“Ah, good. Thank you,” Marie tells him. She turns back to me. “This is what we came to see.”
__________
I PEEK OVER the shoulder of the attendant, careful not to get in the way of Lidia or the other two trainees who have joined us. On the video screen is an alternate spectrum shot of a female companion lying on her bed. The colors of the image range from white-blue to dark blue to black. After a few seconds go by, another person enters the room and connects some wires to the reclining woman’s head and upper chest, then straps her arms and legs into padded restraints.
“Those are for monitoring her vital signs,” the data attendant says, then points at the other monitor. The graph on it was flat when we arrived but now has sprung to life.
I look at it for a moment but can’t even pretend to understand what the lines mean, so I focus back on the other monitor.
“And the restraints?” David, one of the other trainees, asks.
“Just watch,” his instructor tells him.
A small square opens on the lower left portion of the main monitor, displaying another camera feed, this one originating from what I recognize as the departure hall. It’s focused on a man probably twice my age standing on one of the platforms.
After the man gives a hand signal, the data attendant leans forward and says into a microphone, “Stand by.”
The person in the companion’s room checks the restraints. When he waves at the camera, the data operator touches a button and says
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