CHAPTER NINETEEN
Saturday
7:00 AM
Kevin tossed and turned in his sleep all night, as he had the night before. Friday had been painful, trying to go against his nature and not investigate; to stay out of Joshua’s way as he had asked. Saturday morning, he woke with a start.
In the craziness of the past few days, especially with the two murders at the library, Kevin had forgotten about what Motega had said back when he was explaining the science behind The Event. You might want to check out the old armory down the street, Motega had said. I thought I noticed the back door open as I walked by.
Open. What could an opportunistic thief have stolen from that armory? He reached for his holophone on the night stand and slipped it over his hand. “I so hope you got yourself a new phone,” Kevin muttered to himself as he fumbled with the phone. He held his hand to his ear. “Call Alex Whisper.” It was a pretty unique name, he figured. If he was registered, it should be easy to find.
The phone connected without any further prompting. It rang a couple times until he finally heard a tired hello from the other end. “Alex, are you awake?”
“I am now,” Alex said, annoyed.
“Do you still work at the armory on Dennis Street?”
“Yeah, but it’s a Saturday,” he complained.
“Alex, it’s important. Can I meet you there?”
“Now?”
Kevin nodded, though of course Alex couldn’t see him. “We need to go through the inventory. There may have been a break in.”
7:30 PM
Motega scanned the school cafeteria for Alina. She had called and told him that she would be going to the dance early; he should meet her there. The cafeteria was dark, the blinds down to keep out the setting sun. Lights of reds, blues, greens, and oranges flashed across an empty dance floor, their source hidden somewhere in the ceiling above. Strung across the ceiling and hanging from the walls were silver stars, moons, and other sparkling designs.
The party started at 7:30, so it wasn’t much of a party yet. A few Motega would classify as nerds and geeks — the socially undesirables; himself counted among them — were already here. Just like in 2012, most of the kids would be arriving late, looking for that balance between being too late and not wanting to be the first one there.
Looking around the room, he could almost imagine he was at a school dance back in 2012, and then the DJ turned on the holograms. Behind the stage appeared a facsimile of the moon, spaceships darting across the face of it, or occasionally towards the cafeteria.
To the left and right of the dance floor a holographic set of people appeared. They looked like teenagers, dressed in soft, nearly immodest clothing in sharp neon colors. With a Turn of the Century theme, this must be what they imagined the kids of the future would look like. The holograms formed a small crowd around the stage, talking, drinking and cheering — an audience to the real kids who would soon be dancing there.
Motega looked for Alina and eventually found her against the windows, nodding her head to the music the DJ had playing in the background. She hadn’t noticed him yet; he took a moment to watch her. She was absolutely beautiful, stunning in a way he hadn’t noticed before. The first thing he noticed was her hair. She had it cut short — must have done it this afternoon — and added low lights. Formerly big and frizzy, her hair was now thinned out, pulled straight, and set at different angles, her bangs side swept and askew. Nor was she wearing her big, black-rimmed glasses.
Finally she turned towards him and caught his stare. Her smile was the star of the show, he realized. Everything about her look was to accentuate the beauty of her smile. She wore a floor length red gown with a sharp V-neck.
“Hello, m’lady,” he said with a smile as he walked up to her.
“Hello, good sir,” she said, doing her imitation of a curtsy.
He took up station beside her, their backs to the windows. “I feel like them,” he said, nodding to the kids already here, seated, and playing with their holophones.
Alina nodded. “Waiting for the cool and popular kids to arrive.”
“It was nice of the Sheriff to invite us. Get a taste of the future.”
“I’m glad you said yes,” she said. “This should be fun.”
Motega stared across the room, thinking again of the experiment and the horrible things Dravin could manage to do with it. “I have found myself wondering lately why I did it at all.”
“What do you mean?”
“The experiment. The Quantum Entanglement Device.” He said the words slowly, tasting them on his tongue. It sounded exotic, even now, after working on it for so long. Maybe that was why. Quantum Mechanics was so hard, even for scientists who made it their life’s work. “Was I looking for prestige? Fame and recognition? Or maybe I just wanted to see if I could.”
“Any great invention can be turned to an evil purpose,” she said. “You can’t regret making it because of Dravin.”
“Can’t I?” He was even starting to regret bringing it up again, casting a pall on what should be a festive mood. “I should have seen it coming, what it could be used for.”
“A knife can be used to kill, but it can also be used for cutting bread. Was the man who made it evil?”
Motega saw her point, but he shook his head. “In our time, nuclear power plants provided electricity for many homes, but the technology was first used to wipe out millions. Do the benefits outweigh the cost?” Motega laughed sourly and smiled at Alina. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a downer. I’ll let us enjoy the rest of the evening. I promise.”
“What’s done it done,” Alina said, finishing off that train of thought. “You couldn’t foresee it and you have nothing to feel sorry for.”
“You look beautiful tonight, Alina. Absolutely gorgeous,” he said, refusing to talk about the experiment anymore.
“Thank you, Motega.” She bumped him with her hip. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
8:00 PM
When Blayze pulled up to her house, Chevelle hobbled over to his car with her cast. She got in and shut the door, saying nothing; she just stared straight ahead. It wasn’t an angry mood, just silent and sullen. For all her flare and excitement for the dance, she didn’t much feel like going now. Blayze sucked in a deep breath, put the car in gear, and drove off.
Blayze drove slowly and neither of them spoke until they came to a stop in the school parking lot. “Is everything okay?” Blayze finally said. “Is it something I did?”
“No, you’re fine,” Chevelle said in a kind of sad voice. “It’s just—” don’t mention Eric’s name “—Life.”
Blayze nodded. “I can get that.”
“Thanks for picking me up,” Chevelle said, pushing a smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d still want to take me with this.” The cast on a broken leg didn’t exactly spell cool and fun, she thought.
“Well, we’re here,” Blayze said, trying to sound peppy to compensate for Chevelle’s lack of enthusiasm. “May I escort you in?”
Chevelle wasn’t sure whether to let Blayze’s charm change her mood. She wanted nothing more than to rewind time and take back what she said to Eric. But going back in time wasn’t possible, was it? The Event came to mind. What if she could just suspend time for a little while? She smiled at Blayze, this time letting the smile touch her eyes. “Sure,” she said. “I’d like that.”
They stepped out of the car and she slipped her arm around his elbow. “It’s him again, isn’t it?” Blayze said. He winced, immediately regretting it. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Him? Chevelle gritted her teeth. He meant Eric. Was she that transparent? She opened her mouth to object, or to apologize again. She wasn’t sure which, so she shut it. Others were already here; she saw another couple enter at the main doors. A bike like Eric’s was parked up on the curb a few spaces over.
“How about this night isn’t about him?” she said. Then, on a whim, she leaned up and kissed him full on the lips, and held it as Blayze kissed back. She just wished Eric was watching them, getting jealous. Then in the next moment she wished he was Eric. When they were done he pulled back with a wide grin. “Now that’s something I never shared with Eric,” she assured him.
Blayze smiled. “Tonight should be good.”
Chevelle grinned back. “Well, not that good.”
The entrance to the school was decked out with those stars, moons, and streamers. A long banner hung over the doors read: “Party Like It’s 1999.” So Jodie had used her idea after all, and no doubt claimed it as her own as soon as Chevelle had been carted off to the hospital.
Glitter rained over their heads from a sudden puff of a tiny cannon as they entered the cafeteria, forcing Chevelle to at first duck, though she had been expecting it. The lights were dimmed low. A few were beginning to test out the dance floor at the far end, the holographic audience cheering them on.
“You want to get our picture taken?” Blayze asked. To the right, as they entered, a professional photographer was set up with a camera tripod, standing lights, and holographic back drops.
“Not against that,” Chevelle said with a laugh. The current backdrop was of New York City Times Square as the large ball for New Years, now operating on hover technology, of course, was in the middle of its drop to midnight.
“We can change the backdrop,” the photographer said. “Please, stand over here. What would you like? Let’s make it a special night for you and your man.” Her man. Was he? The photographer put them in front of the camera.
“We’ve got Hawaii beach, before the 2038 oil spill, of course,” he said with a grin. “Or several other places. Paris, Rome, the vineyards of Germany, perhaps? Or your normal backdrops with a color flare. Pretty much anything you can imagine.”
“Got anything to go with my dress?”
“Certainly do,” he said, thumbing through his phone. “How about this?” He made a selection and the backdrop turned to a dark blue flare.
“Perfect,” she said. They faced the camera and she let Blayze put his arm around her.
“Closer together,” the photographer prompted from behind the camera. “More. Act like you like each other.” Blayze and Chevelle looked at each other with a smile. Thinking of Eric again, she wrapped her arms around his chest and put her head on his shoulder. “Better!”
The camera made the classic shutter sound, added to all digital cameras since the beginning of the century. “Perfect. You two make a good looking couple.”
The comment stabbed at her heart. She let go of Blayze and hid the trembling of her fingers by crossing her arms. Why am I doing this to myself? she thought. Yesterday in my wildest dreams I wouldn’t have thought of Eric like this, now I can’t think of anything else. What is wrong with me? Out loud she just said, “Come on. Let’s find somewhere to sit.”
8:15 PM
Eric woke Saturday morning and for the first time wondered if it might be better if he were dead. He wasn’t sure whether that made him suicidal, or just normal. His life was falling apart. His mom and dad, both dead; his house, destroyed; and now his best friend— He wondered whether Chevy would even talk to him again after yelling at her like he did. Would it feel better to cut off any feeling at all?
He wasn’t serious, of course. But he lay there for a time, thinking about it. There was still the dance that night, which meant another night with Heaven. So he continued his day, went through the motions, and around eight that night Eric sat in his rented tuxedo on the sofa on the first floor at Chevelle’s, waiting for Heaven to get ready upstairs. After Heaven’s money was taken away by the government agents and Chevelle broke her leg, Chevelle’s mom took Heaven shopping for a dress Friday night, a dress Heaven could really own, she promised. Chevelle went out with her quarterback boyfriend fifteen minutes ago, and still Eric waited.
When Heaven finally came down the stairs Eric jumped to his feet. He looked her over. Nothing had changed. She still wore her street clothes. Her curly golden blond hair flowed over her shoulders, just like always. “You still need to get ready?” Eric asked. “What’s been taking so long.”
Heaven’s mouth turned up in a smirk. “You said you would like me just the way I am. Well, this is me.”
Eric smiled and nodded. “You’re right about that.” He offered her the crook of his arm. “Are we ready then?” She slipped her arm through his and went with him to the dance.