Departure (27 page)

I'M LYING ON THE FLOOR, WRITING IN THE
Alice Carter notebook, when the door swings open and Nick strides in, carrying brown bags that waft delicious smells into the flat: chicken and mashed potatoes.

How does he do that? Always get past the front door?

He smiles. “That's the cutest thing I've ever seen.”

I look back and watch him pass the fire and the large windows that look out on the street, where the last rays of sunset paint the shops and bustling pedestrians in an orange glow. He sets the bags on the shabby table in the kitchen, and my nerves rise as one last mental rehearsal of my speech plays in my mind.

“Got dinner,” he calls.

“Great, I'm famished.”

I push up and join him in the small kitchen.

He reaches into his pocket, and my heart stops.

His fingers fumble for something. He looks up, grinning. His hand comes out . . . with his cell phone.

“Listen to this.” He places the phone on the table and clicks play on a voice mail.

“Nick, it's Oliver. I just got through with Grayson. It was incredible. He's excited, Nick. It was the best two hours we've ever spent together. We talked about the foundation some—he's got so many ideas, so much energy for it. And we talked about everything else, his mother, things we should have talked about a long, long time ago. I can't tell you how glad I am that you called me this morning. I'm not a religious person. Never have been. But I believe things happen for a reason, and I think people come into our lives at the right time for the right reasons. I think that's why we met, Nick. Anyway, I'm feeling sentimental, and I've been drinking.”
Shaw laughs quietly.
“So you might want to delete this. Give me a call right after you do.”

Nick glances up, his eyebrows raised.

“Amazing,” I say. This is the perfect segue. “It's great news. And hopefully it'll soften the blow when he hears I've said no to the biography.”

Nick begins unpacking the takeout. “So you've decided.”

“I have. Alice Carter. I'm going to pursue her. My dream.”

I pace behind the table, my hands shaking. I stuff them into my pajama pant pockets to hide them—or am I subliminally trying to remove any targets for expensive metallic devices that hold precious gemstones? I imagine I look like a mental patient with my arms strapped to my waist. Despite that, I try to make my voice normal. “I've been doing some figuring all day. Meetings and such. Trying to get my affairs in order.”

He looks up from the bags. “Really? Me, too.”

Oh no.

“Also,” he says, unwrapping a side of mashed potatoes that I can't smell, I'm so nervous, “I talked to Yul. He's remembered a little more. I told him I wanted to get the four of us together. I'll see him when I go back to San Francisco to pack my things for the movers.”

Pack my things for the movers.

“I'm moving, too,” I blurt out, an act of desperation. “My mum owns the flat. She'll have to let it to someone else—someone who can actually pay the rent.” I manage a weak smile. “I'll be pretty strapped
while I finish the first Alice novel. Will take some time. I'm in such a transition period. Lot of moving pieces. Will be hectic for a bit. So many decisions. Can't imagine making one more, not a single one. My mind's about to explode as it is.”

I wait.

Seconds tick by. All the food's out now. Mashed potatoes, carrots, and chicken.

“Do you want to wait?” he asks.

“Waiting is good, I think.” The words come out harsh, defensive. I try to soften my tone, appear casual. “For some things. Gotta wait until the time is right. Doesn't mean you're saying no.”

“I wouldn't think so.”

“I'm not.” I say firmly.

“Right.” He glances around. “Well, I could put it in the oven.”

Is he crazy? “Why would you do that?”

“To keep it warm.”

I stare at him.

He shrugs. “I just can't eat cold chicken.”

“Oh.” Dinner. He's talking about waiting on dinner. I take my hands out of my pants, freeing myself, trying to look less like the mental patient I seem to be at the moment. “Well . . . we can eat now. Certainly no problem with that.”

We sit, and he digs in. He must not have eaten all day. I pick at the chicken and roll a few carrots around my plate, unable to eat.

He motions to the living room. “Seems like you've got a good start on Alice. How long do you think for the first novel?”

“Hard to say. Inspiration keeps its own schedule. Maybe a year. Maybe more.”

“Your mom owns the flat?”

“Yep. I saw an estate agent today, wanted to get her some options. He says the flat will fetch a good sum. That will last her a while, maybe to her retirement. Letting it is also a good option, but she'll have to pay a management fee, and there's a bit of uncertainty there. The London market's a madhouse. Flat next door just sold—unsolicited, in fact. Bloody foreigners. They're buying up every square inch of London. Heard Norway bought a big chunk of Mayfair the other day,
Savile Row included. Pretty soon there won't be any Londoners left in London.”

“Everybody's looking for alternative investments. That's been the topic of my day, in fact. I've been thinking about what to do. About the Titan Foundation. In particular, I've asked myself what I can learn from what I saw in 2147.”

That sounds like it could be working up to—

“Human nature.”

I put my fork down. “Human nature?”

“That's what they missed, the Titans. Nicholas said it to me a few times. It might have been the most honest thing he said to me. All the Titan Marvels, all their technology, they just sped up the world. But they didn't solve our real problem: human nature. They didn't make humanity kinder or more understanding. They didn't make us more accepting. Didn't inherently change what's inside us. That's the great challenge. That's what they should have been working on. Not technology, or innovation, or construction projects. I think the great work left to do is about changing how we treat each other. That's what's been missing in my life, that kind of challenge. That's why I was so unhappy.” He looks right in my eyes. “Well, half of it. That's what I realized in 2147. Anyway, changing human nature—not building dams or new technology—that's what I want to work on.”

“How?”

“I haven't quite figured that out yet. Been thinking about it all day.”

My nerves have settled a bit, and I can't resist having a bit of fun with him.

“I actually know of a technology that addresses human nature, nurtures understanding, enhances compassion—some of those very issues you cited, Mr. Stone.”

“Yeah?”

“It's an ancient technology.”

“Ancient?”

“And incredibly powerful. It has the ability to instantly transport people—en masse, by the millions and billions at a time—to other worlds, where they learn from people strangely like them. They make
revelations they carry back to their own lives. Learn skills. Gain inspiration to make change on a global scale.”

“Cost?” he asks, the start of a smile forming on his lips.

“Minimal. No infrastructure needed.”

“Sounds too good to be true.”

“Wrong. It's already here.” I walk to my bookshelf, pull a paperback off. “Books.”

“Books?”

“That's right.”

“I could get behind that,” he says, leaning back in the chair. “It's an interesting idea: writing a book about what happened to us in 2147 and releasing it to give people something to think about. That's a venture I wouldn't mind investing in.”

“That . . . would be interesting.”

“And,” he says, “it could give you working capital—without selling or letting this cozy little flat.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Are you negotiating with me?”

He laughs out loud. “I am. This could be the best investment I've made in some time. But you know, we'd have to work closely on this. It would be half my story, half yours. You'd have to help me with my part.”

“I might be willing to do that.”

“Since we'd be working together so much, I would need to be close by. Say, next door.”

My jaw drops. “You didn't.”

“‘Bloody foreign investors,'” he says, mimicking me.

I shake my head, embarrassed.

“I meant what I said this morning, Harper. I'm serious about seeing where things go with us. If you're not ready, I'll stay in San Francisco. But if you are, I'll be next door. That wall doesn't have to come down any time soon. Or ever, if you don't want it to.”

I nod. I do want that wall to come down. At some point. I'm certain about that now. I know it came down in the other world, so it's possible here.

I like possibilities. Used to hate them. Possibilities meant choices—decisions. But I've gotten a lot better at making decisions lately.

We talk about that, the book we'll write together, and the future for a few hours, the fire crackling in the living room that's littered with construction paper, drawings, and worn notebooks.

Through the tall windows, the first snow of winter is beginning to fall, and bundled-up people are hurrying home under the yellow glow of streetlamps.

When the dinner is half gone, we wrap up the leftovers, place them in the fridge for tomorrow, stoke the fire for the night, and head to the bedroom.

For the first time since I can remember, I'm not the least bit worried about the future.

Read the epilogue to
Departure
and browse extras at my web site:

agriddle.com/post-departure

On the web site, enter your boarding pass number below for full access:

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Thank you for reading. I really hope you've enjoyed
Departure
.

This novel was challenging to write at times, perhaps because the story draws on some of my personal experiences (not the part in 2147, though). While
The Atlantis Gene
was about the origins of the human race,
Departure
is sort of about the origins of my writing career, or at least, why I chose to leave Internet start-ups and do something I felt passionate about.

It seems like the world around us gets faster every year. We're knee-deep in new technologies, but I'm still scratching my head, wondering if we're making the world better or just speeding it up. I guess time will tell. Maybe we'll all be Titans someday. Or maybe we're smart enough to avoid that fate altogether.

That's what
Departure
is about to me: an exploration of where technology might take us, and the possible consequences. It's the sort of cerebral, “what if?” story I enjoy reading and (most of the time) enjoy writing.

To me, the best stories are the ones that leave the reader better than they were. And the best of those nurture both our minds and our souls. I don't know if my craft is quite there yet, but I'm working on it, and I truly appreciate you coming along for the journey.

Take care,

Gerry

Acknowledgments

I'm beginning to think it takes a village, not an author, to write a novel. This year, I've been very lucky to see my little village grow by leaps and bounds.

My wife, Anna, makes sure the trains run on time here at the Riddle household (and that we never miss our plane when we're on the road). Without her, I would likely still be in a train station somewhere in Europe and you wouldn't be reading this novel. And past that, my life wouldn't be the same.

Professionally, I'm blessed to have some incredibly talented people working to get my books into readers' hands. Gray Tan of Grayhawk Agency took a chance on me when I was a promising start-up author. A million copies later, he's still selling my rights throughout Asia and doing an incredible job.

Danny Baror and Heather Baror-Shapiro represent me in Europe and the rest of the world with every bit as much passion and skill.

Between the two agencies, they've sold the Origin Mystery series in twenty territories and counting. I've been amazed, and I'm humbled to have Gray, Danny, and Heather representing me.

Departure's
journey into your hands is almost as incredible as Harper and Nick's adventure, and in a way some time travel was involved. I originally self-published the novel in December of 2014. Miranda Ottewell was my outside editor and did a fantastic job (she's edited novels by some of the world's most beloved authors, including Mitch Albom, Elizabeth Gilbert, Daniel Silva, and Barbara Kingsolver; I was very happy she lowered her standards long enough to work with me). To my delight,
Departure
became a smash hit, selling over a quarter of a million copies in its first several months. 20th Century Fox secured the movie rights, and HarperVoyager, the science fiction imprint of HarperCollins, made a compelling offer to buy the publishing rights. It was a tough decision; I had never traditionally published and was very nervous—
Departure
was and is an incredibly personal and special novel to me. Giving up control of the things we love is hard. But I took the plunge, and the people at HarperVoyager have verified my decision at every turn. David Pomerico's edits and suggestions helped take the story to the next level (which I didn't think was possible). David's work, together with Greg Villepique's copy edits, made
Departure
my most polished novel to date and it's the one I'm most proud of. I'm incredibly grateful to Rebecca Lucash, Shawn Nicholls, and Pam Jaffee for their outstanding work making the
Departure
release happen in a major way—everything from PR, to advertising, to in-store placement. The entire HarperVoyager team is a well-oiled machine, and I was glad to be a small cog in that machine this year. Lastly, I need to say a special thanks to Liate Stehlik, the lady at the top of the Voyager food chain, for all her support and for making Departure's re-release happen. Almost a year after I self-published the novel, it hit bookstores with new content, new edits, and better than ever. It was quite a journey.

And before I go, I need to thank some folks at the beginning of that journey: my alpha readers. In 2014, they once again saved the day with some invaluable catches and suggestions. I learn so much with every novel I write, and I truly appreciate all the time they put in. They are: Fran Mason, Carole Duebbert, Lisa Weinberg, and Michael Hattig.

My beta readers provided a source of encouragement and timely feedback right before the launch. They are: Lee Ames, Sue Arnett, Ivan Arrington, Laura Avramidis, Jeff Baker, Joshua Baker, Paula Barrett, Eris Barzman, Jen Bengtson, Tracy Big Pond, Ben Bird, Casey Boatman, Steve Boesen, Paul Bowen, Jacob Bulicek, Michael Camenisch, Stephanie Campbell, Emily Chin, Lianne Christian, Markel Coleman, Robin Collins, Heather Comerford, Jacky Cook, Frank Cowan, Ken Cuddeback, Terry Daigle, Sue Davis, Sylvie Delézay, Joe Devous, Kathy Dickinson, Adam Dorrell, Debbie Dowdy, Michelle Duff, Matt Egan, Christopher Eix, Maisha Elonai, Amanda Flies, Skip Folden, Kay Forbes, Ben Forrest, Holly Fournier, N. J. Fritz, Ben Fury, Matthew Fyfe, Brenda Gehrmann, Zachary Gershman, Kathy Gianneschi, Vicky Gibbins, Christine Girtain, Julie Godnik, Carl Gray, Julia Greenawalt, Mike Gullion, Chet Hale, Miora Hanson, Dustin Hermon, Aimee Hess, Matthias Hüls, Ted Hust, Mary Jakobowski, Paul Jamieson, Sam Jarvie, Christopher Kazu Williams, Shawn Kerker, Jeannine Klos, Linda Koch, Karin Kostyzak, Matt Lacey, Kendall Lane, Daniel Lewis, Cameron Lewis, Marina Lobato, Dee Lopez, Peter Lynch, Kelly Mahoney, Jane Marconi, Angela Marx, Virginia McClain, Leanne McGiveron, Steven McKenney, James McMullen, Jake Meals, Saquib Mian, Kristen Miller, Brian Miller, Thomas Mitchum, Tera Montgomery, Kim Myers, Steven Nease, Kevin Nguyen, Jordan Nguyen, Amber O'Connor, Anne Palmer, Sara Patterson, Mike Pease, Cindy Prendergast, Nikita Puhalsky, Brandon Pulliam, Brian Puzzo, Rachael Qualls, Deborah and Cary Radunz, Akash Rajpal, Katie Regan, Terri Reilly, Dave Renison, Teodora Retegan, Lionel Riem, Timothy Rogers, Andy Royl, Mike Russell, Dennis Sable, John Scafidi, Stefano Scaglione, Scott Scheffler, Andreas Schild, John Schmiedt, Chere Schoning, Cameron Schutza, Shane Schweitzer, Debbie Sembera, Anjulie Semenchuk, Keith Shurmer, Russell Simkins, Andrea Sinclair, Rhonda Sloan, Christine Smith, Duane Spellecacy, Linda Spotz, George Stalling, Elizabeth Steininger Wolf, Alex Stevens, Kady Stewart, Tiffany Tanner, Paula Thomas, Macy Tindel, Kevin Veneskey, Andrew Villamagna, Tom Vogel, Jimmy Von Riesen, Liz W., Lauren Wall, Louise Ward, Ron Watts, Chris Watts, Sylvia Webb, Scott Weiner, Dana Westphal, Charlie White, Linda Winton, Robert Wiseman, Samantha Woracek, John Woughter, Lew Wuest, Athena, and TeResa.

I also have to thank a group of people whose inquisitive minds encourage my playful side. They are: Jason Barroca, Bader Bouarki, Steve Brenckle, Lee Davis, Michael De Feo, Christopher Dunham, David Galli Carrera, eRin Hanson, Rob Hanus, Matt Isaacs, Josh Jacobs, Samuel Lynch, Kostas Mavraganis, Desiree Melkovitz, Jonathan Moore, Bryan Nelson, Jonathan Palmer, Sam Penry, Darin Powell, Zach Renshaw, and Evan Roy.

And finally, to you, wherever you are, whatever time it is: thanks for reading.

See you next time.