Split Infinity (6 page)
My eyes lift to his. ‘I should have told you, Mason.’ Wish I had.
We both go quiet, the weight of our past still hanging in the air. But something about the silence seems solid, as if our past is locking into place. Our history might be messed up, but it’s brought us to this point, this moment of understanding.
‘So … what happened with your plan to jump ten years?’ I ask finally. Sort of changing the subject. And sort of not. ‘Did you come back early on purpose?’
‘Yeah … I mean, no. I don’t know. It was like being pulled –’
‘– out?’
He pauses for a moment, watching me. ‘You too?’
‘Yeah,’ I mumble, remembering the sludge of the tunnel, the emptiness of losing my place in time. Almost forgetting who I was. The only reason I made it as far as I did is because I was trying to catch up with Mason, ten years into the future. It was like I latched onto the thought of him to anchor myself. But once I started having trouble making it that far, the only way I found my way out was the idea of seeing Mum again.
‘I think I was pulled back early because I left Mum behind,’ I say slowly. Already Mason’s nodding. ‘Like … I couldn’t travel too far away from her.’
‘Yeah, I know what you mean.’
Because of … who?
I’m dying to ask. He thought I was staying behind when he jumped, but his parents stayed behind too. So who was it that pulled him out early?
‘It makes me wonder,’ Mason continues, ‘whether there’s something going on with that. The way our relationships impact on when we return. Our sense of who we are and where we belong …’ He glances my way and blinks. ‘Sorry. Just thinking aloud.’
‘It’s okay.’ I’ve missed hearing him talk about stuff like this, the nature of time. My whole way of looking at the world changed because of Mason.
He’s watching me again when I look up, but then glances at his compad. ‘We should get going. Unless you want to say hi to my folks?’
I’m not sure how to answer. How awkward will it be if they come home to find me eating their tiny rations? ‘What do you want to do?’
‘Don’t worry.’ Mason winks. He gets it.
There’s a folded whitesheet under the bench, with a marker and cloth ready to go. I get the feeling they’ve been leaving notes this way the whole time Mason’s been back: easy to wipe clean and impossible to trace.
The backpack gets jammed full again, with light blankets and ration bars. At least we don’t need to lug water all the way back. Then we head out the way we came, sticking to a safe path out of sight of the motion sensors.
One night together, before I find Mum.
W
E DON’T TALK
much once we’re outside, careful not to say anything that might give us away, watching for the thin arms of motion sensors at the tops of poles and in doorways just in case. The park’s still open when we make it there so we sneak into the cave when no-one is watching. Safe, for now.
Mason finds a space deep inside the cave and pulls out his compad. So I do the same, checking the grid for federal officers that might be around and getting a second wave of relief that I didn’t spend time here while I had the chip in my wrist. Without even discussing it, I know we’ll lie low until the park closes. Then we’ll have the whole place to ourselves.
I shift a little and rest a shoulder against the dirt wall, grateful for time to research. When the Feds came for me that night they knew I had stolen a chip. But how did they work it out?
The original records are all four years old, so I have to hack into the back end of the federal network for the details I need. That would have taken me ages once upon a time, but after watching Mason in action the night Amon died, I use a few of his tricks and soon I’m opening the report that led to me being caught.
The page opens on my screen and I push my lips together, wary of what I’ll find.
I’ve been thinking that maybe the Feds had been studying my history map because of Amon’s death and worked out that some things didn’t add up, or maybe someone realised that my school reports were fake, so I’m not ready for the simplicity of the note at the start of the file:
Anonymous citizen report
.
I take a sharp breath. Someone turned me in?
Mason’s head lifts from reading his compad. ‘Okay?’
‘Yeah.’ I turn back to the screen, not quite ready to share what I’ve learnt.
I can’t find any record of the person’s name, not even a swipe of their chip, so try tracking the message back to its source. The identifier is easy to find, but it’s just a number with no more details. The location is blocked, as well as the registration, so I patch in to see if the content on the screen of the compad that sent the anonymous message will give me any clues.
There’s nothing there, at least nothing in the past few days. I track back to last weekend. Still nothing. Back again over the past months.
The compad isn’t being used. I lean back, biting the inside of my cheek. A citizen not using their compad is like someone not using their left arm.
Unless the person’s not around to use it. My eyes track across to the vacuum-sealed bags in the corner of the cave. Unless the person has disappeared on a ten-year skip.
Ever since Boc worked out I was illegal, I always had the sense that he was trying to catch me out, like he was using any mistakes I made as proof that I didn’t deserve access to rations. Or something like that. But he wouldn’t take it so far as turning me in, would he?
With the compad ID still visible from where the citizen report was sent, I rest Echo’s screen to one side and pull out one of the two remaining, tapping my finger against the tip of my thumb as it fires up. As soon as the compad comes to life, I bring up the ID.
My mouth goes dry. They match.
Just to be sure I check the content and messages, but it’s here right in front of me. This is Boc’s compad; he’s the one who turned me in.
My hands drop as my brain goes into overdrive. I’d expected to have been caught out because of some mistake I made, or a clue that related to time skipping, but this is so much worse it just makes me feel sick.
‘Everything okay?’ Mason asks.
‘Yep.’ It comes out as wonky, overacted.
Mason nods and taps at something on his screen while I go back to wanting to throw up on mine.
How could Boc do that when he knew I’d end up in jail? But I already know the answer. I was using resources that were meant for someone else. In his mind he was returning the rations to where they belonged. Putting the illegal back in her place.
I lift my head again, ready to blurt out the double-cross to Mason. But something stops me. For a start, I’m not sure what I’d say. How do you tell someone that his best friend is a double-crossing piece of slime?
For a while I just sit here, staring at the blinking cursor, thinking back to the day after Amon died, and being chased by the Feds. The only way out was up a rock-climbing wall and through the roof. I can still remember the hugeness of the space beneath me, the gravity sucking me away from the wall. And Boc’s hiss from beside me:
You’re putting us all in danger
.
Maybe that was the way he justified it in his mind, telling himself that I’m weak, unworthy. Dangerous.
It’s not even a conscious decision. My hands move automatically to the compad and bring up the grid in 2085. Back to the days just after I’d jumped. If Boc hadn’t turned me in, I would have been with Mum through the days I’m watching now.
For the rest of the afternoon I stay inside the grid, watching Mum’s history map as she moves through her days, heading to work and back again, cooking her meal before sitting in front of the comscreen each evening.
It’s just a dot on a screen, of course, but it makes me feel connected to her. They were her actual movements being recorded, and watching that dot gives me a pang in the chest, not just with worry about her but also because of the time I’ve missed, all the days she lived through that I wasn’t there.
To make myself feel better, I try to imagine the day Boc returns from his ten-year skip to find me here, safe and free:
Thought you had me sorted, did you Boc?
Think again.
The light outside the cave has dimmed and deepened to a sunset red. I’ve been so focused on inching my way through Mum’s days that I didn’t realise it was so late.
When I glance up and yawn, Mason looks over. ‘Can I show you this? I’ve been working on something.’
I tilt my neck to once side until it clicks. ‘Sure. What is it?’
Mason shuffles close and finds a place next to me. He rests his compad on my knees and brings up a page showing a series of times. ‘So, smartcars are all programmed to travel at set speeds, and they all get slotted into batches that are kept a distance from each other. Right?’
My brain is still foggy from staring at the grid this long. ‘Okay …’
‘And traffic lights are all on the set schedules too,’ Mason’s still going, barely pauses for breath. ‘So I’ve done a few calculations to work out safe times for return if we need to time skip on the back road to get away.’
He’s lost me now. I shake my head.
Mason shuffles around so that he’s facing me. ‘We were already training for quick jumps in front of moving trains, right?’
‘Yeah.’ Don’t want to think about that. It’s how Amon died.
‘But this time, we do it in front of a smartcar and time a precise return. They travel too fast on the highroads, but their speed always drops on the back roads right? I’ve worked out the safe times you can return so that you’ll be able to escape.’
‘Okay …’ Think I’m catching up now. If I end up being chased, he’s telling me to run onto the back road where the Feds can’t follow and jump before I’m hit by a car. No problem. ‘But what’s stopping me from returning inside a car or something?’ This sounds way dangerous to me. ‘How will I know when it’s safe?’
‘Maths.’ He lifts a shoulder. ‘You’ll already be in the space between a batch of cars when you jump, right? So, from that starting point, I can work out the times you need to return in another gap. We’ve already trained for a precise return, so just match your return with the options I give you, and you’ll be safe.’
I think this through. ‘So when I come back, there could be a car coming straight at me …’
‘Yes. You need to be ready to respond as soon as you return. You could jump again. Fast. Or keep running, if you have time, and escape.’
He pauses, and peers at the times he’s typed on the compad. ‘Just one more use for our secret weapon.’
It’s a clever idea I guess, but after coming back early from our ten-year attempt, I’m not so sure about Mason’s latest idea. Messing up in front of a smartcar would be ugly in the extreme.
But I don’t say any of that. I place a hand on his knee. ‘Mason, this is great, thanks.’ Here’s hoping we don’t need to use it.
Once the park closes, we venture out from the cave to practise sharp returns. It’s a still evening, cool without being cold. The colours have faded to grey.
We’ve already planned how it’s going to work so I’m sort of ready. We’re walking along the path when, a few paces away from me, Mason claps without warning.
I pin-drop into the tunnel, savouring the calm of being inside infinity. No ripples in time down here.
Thirteen, fourteen, fif-
With a rush I’m back, my heart beating and skin tingling. I needed that.
‘Great,’ Mason calls. ‘Fifteen bang on.’
But I knew that already. Now that I’ve done it with real focus, I can see that short jumps are way different territory from the longer ones, maybe because there’s no stress about leaving anyone behind. Fifteen seconds is such a familiar span of time, short enough to hold onto when I’m in the tunnel.
The night air feels cool against my skin, somehow soothing. It’s too dark to see much, but he can see my outline, I’m pretty sure. I don’t bother to reach for my shirt, it’ll only drop again the next time I skip. Besides, there’s no-one else in the park.
‘Your turn?’ I call.
When Mason nods I wait a few seconds, and then clap my hands. In the dim light his outline becomes empty space and shadows.
I check his progress on the compad stopwatch. After thirty seconds, he’s back, his shape silhouetted against the light from a three-quarter moon.