Separatist sentiment in Quebec is at an all-time low, according to a
Maclean's opinion poll: "The apparently certain knowledge that Quebec
will still be part of Canada twenty-one years hence has caused even many
diehard separatists to throw in the towel," observed a Maclean's editorial.
As an emergency measure to free up doctors to deal with those
physically injured during the Flashforward, the United States Food and
Drug Administration has approved eleven formerly prescription
antidepressants for over-the-counter sales for a one-year period.
That night, Lloyd and Michiko sat again on the couch in Lloyd's apartment, a fivecentimeter-
thick stack of printouts and reports Lloyd had brought home sitting on
the coffee table. Michiko hadn't cried once since they got home, but Lloyd knew that
she would doubtless cry herself to sleep again tonight, as she had the last two
nights. He was trying to do the right thing: he didn't want to avoid the topic of
Tamiko --that, he knew, was tantamount to denying that she had ever existed -but
he would only pursue it if Michiko herself mentioned her.
And, of course, he wanted to avoid the topic of their wedding and their visions,
and all the doubts that were swirling through his mind. And so they sat, and he held
her when she needed holding, and they talked about other things.
"Gaston Béranger was going on about the role of science today," said Lloyd. "And,
dammit all, he got me to thinking maybe he was right. We've been saying
outrageous things, we scientists. We've been deliberately using loaded words,
making the public think we're doing things that we aren't."
"I admit we haven't always done a good job of presenting scientific truths to the
public," said Michiko. "But --but if CERN is responsible ... if you --"
If you are responsible ...
That's doubtless what she'd started to say before she'd caught herself. If you are
responsible ...
Yes, if he was responsible --if his experiment, his and Theo's, had somehow been
responsible for all that death, all that destruction, for the death of Tamiko ...
He'd sworn to himself that he'd never make Michiko sad, that he'd never do to her
what Hiroshi had done. But if his experiment had been what had led, however
inadvertently, however indirectly, to Tamiko's death, then he'd harmed Michiko far
more than all Hiroshi's indifference and neglect ever had.
Wolfgang Rusch had seemed reluctant to talk on the phone, and Theo had finally
declared outright that he was coming to Germany to see him. Berlin was only eight
hundred and seventy kilometers from Geneva. He could drive it in a day, but he
decided to first call a travel agent, on the off-chance that there might be a cheap
seat available.
It turned out that there were a lot of seats available.
Yes, there had been a slight reduction in the world's fleet of airplanes --some had
crashed, although most of the thirty-five hundred planes that had been aloft during
the Flashforward had flown on merrily without pilot intervention. And, yes, there was
an influx of people who had no choice but to travel in order to deal with family
emergencies.
But, according to the travel agent, everyone else was staying home. Hundreds of
thousands of people worldwide were refusing to get on planes --and who could
blame them? If the blackout effect happened again, more aircraft would smash into
runways. Swissair was waiving all the usual travel restrictions --no advanced
booking required, no minimum stay needed --and was giving quadruple frequentflyer
points, plus granting First Class seating on a first-come, first-served no-extracost
basis; other airlines were offering similar deals. Theo booked a flight, and was in
Germany less than ninety minutes later. He'd put the flight time to good use,
running some more lead-nuclei collision simulations on his notebook computer.
When he arrived at Rusch's apartment, it was a little after 8:00 P.M. "Thank you
for agreeing to see me," said Theo.
Rusch was in his mid-thirties, thin, with blond hair and eyes the color of graphite.
He stood aside to let Theo into the small apartment, but didn't seem at all happy to
have a visitor. "I have to tell you," he said in English, "I wish you hadn't come. This
is a very difficult time for me."
"Oh?"
"I lost my wife during the --whatever you call it. The German press has been
referring to it as Der Zwischenfall --'the incident.' " He shook his head. "Seems a
wholly inadequate name to me."
"I'm sorry."
"I'd been here at home when it happened. I don't teach on Tuesdays."
"Teach?"
"I'm an associate professor of chemistry. But my wife --she was killed on her way
home from work."
"I am so sorry," said Theo, sincerely.
Rusch shrugged. "That doesn't bring her back."
Theo nodded, conceding the point. He was glad, though, that Béranger had so far
vetoed Lloyd going public with CERN's involvement in the accident --he doubted
Rusch would be talking to him at all if he knew of the relationship.
"How did you find me?"
"A tip --I've been getting a bunch of them. People seem intrigued by my ... my
quest. Someone emailed me saying you had told them that your vision involved
watching a television news report about my death."
"Who?"
"One of your neighbors. I don't think it matters which one." Theo hadn't actually
been sworn to secrecy, but it didn't seem prudent to name his source, either.
"Please," he said, "I've come a long way, at considerable expense, to speak with
you. There must be more that you can tell me than what you said on the phone."
Rusch seemed to soften a bit. "I guess. Look, I'm sorry. You have no idea how
much I loved my wife."
Theo cast his eyes about the room. There was a photo on a low bookcase: Rusch,
looking about ten years younger than his current mid-thirties, and a beautiful darkhaired
woman. "Is that her?" Theo asked.
Rusch looked as though his heart had skipped a beat --as though he thought
Theo was pointing to his wife, in the flesh, miraculously made whole again. But then
his eyes lighted on the picture. "Yes," he said.
"She's very pretty."
"Thank you," mumbled Rusch.
Theo waited a few moments, then simply went on. "I've spoken to a few people
who were reading newspaper or online articles about my --my murder, but you are
the first I've found who actually saw something on TV. Please, what can you tell me
about it?"
Rusch finally indicated that Theo should sit down, which he did, near the picture of
the late Frau Rusch. On the coffee table, there was bowl full of grapes --probably
one of the new genetically engineered varieties that stayed succulent even without
refrigeration.
"There isn't much to tell," said Rusch. "Although there was one strange thing, now
that I think about it. The news report wasn't in German. Rather, it was in French. Not
many French newscasts here in Germany."
"Were there call letters or a network logo?"
"Oh, probably --but I didn't pay any attention to them."
"The newscaster --did you recognize him?"
"Her. No. She was efficient, though. Very crisp. But it's no surprise I didn't
recognize her; she was certainly under thirty, meaning she'd be less than ten years
old today."
"Did they superimpose her name? If I can find her today, her vision, of course,
would be of her giving that newscast, and maybe she remembered something that
you didn't."
"I wasn't watching the newscast live; it was recorded. My vision started with me
fast-forwarding; I wasn't using a remote, though. Rather, the player was responding
to my voice. But it was skipping ahead. It wasn't videotape; the sped-up image was
absolutely smooth, with no snow or jerkiness." He paused. "Anyway, as soon as a
graphic came up behind her showing a picture of --well, it was of you, I guess,
although you were older, of course --I stopped fast-forwarding, and began to watch.
The words under the graphic said 'Un Savant tué' --'death of a scientist.' I guess
that title intrigued me, you know, being a scientist myself."
"And you watched the whole report?"
"Yes."
A thought crossed Theo's mind. If Rusch had watched the whole report, then it
must have lasted less than two minutes. Of course, three minutes was an eternity on
TV, but ...
But his whole life, dismissed in under one minute and forty-three seconds ...
"What did the reporter say?" asked Theo. "Anything you can remember will be a
help."
"I honestly don't recall much. My future self may have been intrigued, but, well, I
guess I was panicking. I mean --what the hell was going on? I'd been sitting at the
kitchen table, over there, drinking some coffee and reading some student papers,
then suddenly everything changed. The last thing I was interested in was paying
attention to the details of some news story about somebody I didn't know."
"I understand that it must have been very disorienting," said Theo, but having not
had a vision himself he suspected he really didn't understand. "Still, as I said, any
details you could remember would be helpful."
"Well, the woman said you were a scientist --a physicist, I think. Is that right?"
"Yes."
"And she said you were --you will be --forty-eight years old."
Theo nodded.
"And she said you were shot."
"Did she say where?"
"Ah, in the chest, I think."
"No, no. Where I was shot --what place?"
"I'm afraid not."
"Was it at CERN?"
"She said you worked at CERN, but --but I don't recall her saying that was where
you were killed. I'm sorry."
"Did she mention a sports arena? A boxing match?"
Rusch looked surprised by the question. "No."
"Do you remember anything else?"
"I'm sorry, no."
"What was the story that came on after the one about me?" He didn't know why
he asked that --maybe to see where he had fitted into the pecking order.
"I'm sorry, I don't know. I didn't watch the rest of the newscast. When the piece
on you was finished, a commercial came on --for a company that lets you create
designer babies. That did fascinate me --the 2009 me --but my 2030 self seemed
to have no interest in it. He just turned off the --well, it wasn't really a TV, of
course; it was a hanging flatscreen thing. But he just turned it off --he said the word
'Off' to it, and it went dark, just like that; no fading out. And then he --me --we
turned around and --I guess I was in a hotel room; there were two large beds in it. I
went and lay down on one of the beds, fully clothed. And I spent the rest of the time
just staring at the ceiling, until my vision ended and I was back at the kitchen table."
He paused. "I had a nasty bump on my forehead, of course; I'd smashed it into the
tabletop when the vision began. And I'd spilled hot coffee on my hand, too; I must
have knocked over my mug when I pitched forward. I was lucky that I wasn't
seriously burnt. It took me a while to collect my wits, and then I found out that
everyone in the building had also had some sort of hallucination. And then I tried to
call my wife, only to find out that ... that ... " He swallowed hard. "It took them a
while to find her, or, at least, to contact me. She'd been walking up a steep flight of
stairs, coming out of the subway. She'd almost made it to the top, according to
others who saw her, and then she'd blacked out, and fallen backwards, down sixty or
seventy steps. The fall broke her neck."
"My God," said Theo. "I'm sorry."
Rusch nodded this time, simply accepting the comment.
There was nothing else to be said between them, and, besides, Theo had to get
back to the airport; he didn't want to run up the cost of a hotel room in Berlin.
"Many thanks for your time," said Theo. He reached into his pocket and pulled out
his business-card case. "If you recall anything else that you think might be helpful,
I'd really appreciate it if you'd give me a call or drop me an email." He handed Rusch
a card.
The man took it, but didn't look at it. Theo left.
Lloyd went back to Gaston Béranger's office the next day. This time the journey
took even longer: he was waylaid by a unified-field-theory group on their way over
to the Computer Center. When he at last made it to Béranger's office, Lloyd began,
"I'm sorry, Gaston, you can try to oust me if you want, but I'm going to go public."
"I thought I was clear --"
"We have to go public. Look, I just got through speaking to Theo. Did you know
he went to Germany yesterday?"
"I can't keep track of the comings and goings of three thousand employees."
"He went to Germany --on a moment's notice, and he got a cheap fare. Why?
Because people are afraid to fly. The whole world is still paralyzed, Gaston. Everyone
is afraid that the time displacement is going to happen again. Check the newspapers
or the TV, if you don't believe me; I just did myself. They're avoiding sports, driving
when only absolutely necessary, and not flying. It's as if --it's as if they're waiting
for the other shoe to drop." Lloyd thought again about the announcement that his
