Week 6: Tilt-a-Whirls
Red. Could it be? During her assignment studying the Corae Market of 2355, Lyra had never seen a soul dressed in head-to-toe red like the woman she had just spotted out of the corner of her eye. Red attracted the attention of the blood demons, who would inflict untold suffering upon all who walked here if only given the chance. The woman in red could not be from here; otherwise, she would know better. A foreigner? No, even foreigners knew the customs of Corae. Even if they stifled their laughter at any mention of blood demons, they excised all red from their wardrobes and stalls to preserve access to the market.
"Miss? If you don't want your moon fruit, I'll be having it back," the keeper of the fruit stall shouted above the din.
"I'll be having," Lyra echoed. She took her moon fruits and swept them into her brown satchel before turning to pursue the woman in red. Normally, once lost, it took the luck of the gods to find anyone in the Corae Market in the middle of the morning. But the people parted before the stranger this time, believing that any contact with her would bring the blood demons upon them.
Another time traveler, Lyra concluded. But not a licensed one. The Agency of Chronological Management kept close tabs upon each of its operatives. Each agent wore a monitoring device that tracked her whenabouts and whereabouts. The dossier that Lyra carried on every research mission contained the names and photographs of all agents within her vicinity, and the Chief plotted each operative's movements to ensure that no agent crossed over her own timeline. Furthermore, no agent went on assignment without knowledge of the local customs.
Lyra pulled out her dossier, keeping it concealed within her shoulder bag. But instead of showing nearby agents, a message in red ink filled the page: ALL AGENTS RETURN AT ONCE.
She looked back up from the dossier, where the woman in red kept walking as the crowd parted before her. Instead of activating the snap-back device that would return her to 2543, Lyra took a few steps to the right, her eyes on the mystery woman. She knew something more interesting than exchanges of money and people milling around would happen shortly. Did the Agency have to call her back now?
The dossier hummed again under her hands. ALL AGENTS RETURN IMMEDIATELY.
Lyra looked up again and saw her quarry looking directly at her. She stared back at the unknown traveler's pale face, framed by thick brown hair trying to escape a ponytail. What did she do now? It occurred to Lyra that her flight of fancy had to come to an end. Her tangent from her mission had occupied her mind for a while, but she was just a researcher, and she had to obey the dictates of her Agency. She reached for the watch on her left wrist and pressed the knob on its side that would return her to her own time.
--
The disorientation overtook Lyra upon her arrival one hundred and eighty-eight years later. She reached out both her arms, trying to find something to hold onto while the ground spun beneath her feet, and found herself clinging to another operative.
"Agent Tristan," she heard the Chief say. "You're late."
"Sorry, Chief," Lyra mumbled. She should have prepared herself better for the jump. Any leap through time tended to have a vertiginous effect, particularly jumps of a century or more, but sometimes medication alleviated the impact.
The Chief ignored her transgression for the moment. She directed a laser pointer toward the screen in front of the assembled operatives, and an image of the woman in red Lyra had pursued just moments before turned up. In the photograph, the woman looked less pale than she had appeared in the Corae Market, but Lyra could not miss the resemblance.
"This is Camille Sand," the Chief said. Lyra looked around the crowd of agents for her partner so she could share what had just happened to her in Corae, but saw no sign of Jane Harper. "Five years of distinguished service with the Agency, starting in 2666 and ending when she went rogue in 2671."
A murmur ran through the room. Agents seldom dropped off the map, given the battery of psychological tests that any prospective operative had to pass to gain access to the most basic of the advanced chronological devices. Lyra had heard stories of the damage rogue agents could cause during her training. Usually, they consisted of former operatives making futile attempts to alter the course of history, but one had managed to fake the security clearance to read a Chief's Whenabouts Board and reveal the ultimate fates of every agent working in the office that year.
"Camille has been reported in three different locations since she took off her monitor, which last reported from 2671 on this day six hours ago. She could be anywhen, and she is dangerous. I have suspended all of your former missions. Your task is now to locate and capture Camille. Questions?"
"How are we going to find her?" one agent asked.
"Because she wants to be found," Lyra answered.
When all eyes in the room turned to Lyra, she realized she had spoken more loudly than she had intended. "Why do you say that, Agent Tristan?" the Chief asked.
Lyra thought about revealing her prior encounter with Camille Sand, but thought better of it. "No one who wants to go unnoticed wears that color red," she said to the crowd of agents.
The Chief looked at Lyra before returning her gaze to the crowd. "As with any mission, you will each be assigned a year within which to hunt for Camille. Your dossiers are being updated as we speak with information about Camille and the years you have been assigned to. Arm yourselves, but if you get into a situation you cannot manage, use your beacons to signal home for help. Dismissed. Except you, Agent Tristan."
The agents left the room, complaining about the interruption to their research and speculating about how anyone could jump three times in six hours without succumbing to the vertigo. Lyra stayed standing for her upcoming lecture about obeying orders with punctuality.
"You saw her," the Chief said to Lyra.
"Yes, Chief."
"Then you and Agent Harper will return to 2355. Camille's probably long gone by now, but I won't let a solid lead slip through our fingers." The Chief tapped on her Whenabouts Board to denote Lyra and Jane's upcoming locations in time. "Go."
--
"The woman in red--"
"Haven't seen hide nor hair of her, gods bless me!" The shopkeeper ran out of his jewelry stall, mixing prayers into his mumbling about fools and demons.
Lyra looked at Jane. "He saw her."
"Yep."
They squeezed their hands together, then left the stall and walked in the opposite direction from the shopkeeper. Jane's hand went to her concealed gun, while Lyra found her beacon.
"Do you think she's still here?" Lyra asked. With the approach of the midday heat, the crowd in the market had started to dissipate.
"I would have said no, because she's gone on so many jumps already, but you said she looked right at you. She seems interested in you."
"You don't have to be jealous." Lyra swept her eyes along the edges of the crowd. She saw no red.
Jane smiled. "I know. Anyway, she seems to know who you are."
"How?" Had Camille left? She could have found a boat to take her away from the Market, if she had even stayed in this time period.
"I have no idea. Well, she could have gotten her hands on a Whenabouts Board, but a board from 2671 wouldn't show us, and I see no other way. It all depends on whether she wants to be found now or whether she'd rather lead us on a chase through time first."
"Oh, I think I want to find you first."
Jane turned toward Camille's voice and pointed her gun, but within a matter of seconds, a white-clad Camille had disarmed Jane. "If you even think about going for one of those devices on you, I'll make your Agent pay," Camille said, gesturing toward Jane with the gun. "Now, I want to see your hands."
Lyra raised them in the air, away from the beacon she had already activated. "Who sold those to you?" she asked, aware of the idiocy of her question.
"A jump here, a jump there," Camille said. "Should have taken me down when you had the chance."
"I didn't know who you were," Lyra said.
Camille looked around at the people in the market, who ignored them now. Maybe someone had called law enforcement, but the operatives would arrive before any local security did. "Bullshit. Your Agency just hadn't told you, but you knew."
"It's your Agency, too," Jane said.
"I didn't say you could talk." Camille turned back to Jane. "And it's not my Agency. Not after what I've seen."
"What you've seen?" Lyra echoed. "And what's that?"
"That the world can change," Camille said. "Far more than any agency chief ever gave it credit for. We can change time, not just travel in it. You don't believe me? Go to 2546 and find the white--" Then, the bullets hit Camille.
"You all right?" The three backup agents ran over to Lyra and Jane, ignoring Camille's body.
"We're not hurt," Jane said. "Lyra?"
Lyra stared at Camille's body. "The white what?" she asked.
"She was just rambling," Jane said. "The same thing as any other rogue."
"But--" What if Camille had told the truth? What if a device existed that would allow the Agency to break its constraints and use the known chronological devices to do more than simply observe? If so, then that could mean a thousand different things for the Agency that Lyra had never envisioned. If no such thing existed, then why had Camille run? Lyra quelled her thoughts. "Never mind. Are you going to be okay, Jane?"
"Yes. Let's go back."
Lyra looked at her snap-back device and felt the disorientation coming on already. Did it come from anticipation of the return trip, or from having a gun pointed at her partner while a rogue operative tried her best to turn the world upside down? "Not ready yet," she said. "I'm going to take my tonic first this time."
"Miss? If you don't want your moon fruit, I'll be having it back," the keeper of the fruit stall shouted above the din.
"I'll be having," Lyra echoed. She took her moon fruits and swept them into her brown satchel before turning to pursue the woman in red. Normally, once lost, it took the luck of the gods to find anyone in the Corae Market in the middle of the morning. But the people parted before the stranger this time, believing that any contact with her would bring the blood demons upon them.
Another time traveler, Lyra concluded. But not a licensed one. The Agency of Chronological Management kept close tabs upon each of its operatives. Each agent wore a monitoring device that tracked her whenabouts and whereabouts. The dossier that Lyra carried on every research mission contained the names and photographs of all agents within her vicinity, and the Chief plotted each operative's movements to ensure that no agent crossed over her own timeline. Furthermore, no agent went on assignment without knowledge of the local customs.
Lyra pulled out her dossier, keeping it concealed within her shoulder bag. But instead of showing nearby agents, a message in red ink filled the page: ALL AGENTS RETURN AT ONCE.
She looked back up from the dossier, where the woman in red kept walking as the crowd parted before her. Instead of activating the snap-back device that would return her to 2543, Lyra took a few steps to the right, her eyes on the mystery woman. She knew something more interesting than exchanges of money and people milling around would happen shortly. Did the Agency have to call her back now?
The dossier hummed again under her hands. ALL AGENTS RETURN IMMEDIATELY.
Lyra looked up again and saw her quarry looking directly at her. She stared back at the unknown traveler's pale face, framed by thick brown hair trying to escape a ponytail. What did she do now? It occurred to Lyra that her flight of fancy had to come to an end. Her tangent from her mission had occupied her mind for a while, but she was just a researcher, and she had to obey the dictates of her Agency. She reached for the watch on her left wrist and pressed the knob on its side that would return her to her own time.
--
The disorientation overtook Lyra upon her arrival one hundred and eighty-eight years later. She reached out both her arms, trying to find something to hold onto while the ground spun beneath her feet, and found herself clinging to another operative.
"Agent Tristan," she heard the Chief say. "You're late."
"Sorry, Chief," Lyra mumbled. She should have prepared herself better for the jump. Any leap through time tended to have a vertiginous effect, particularly jumps of a century or more, but sometimes medication alleviated the impact.
The Chief ignored her transgression for the moment. She directed a laser pointer toward the screen in front of the assembled operatives, and an image of the woman in red Lyra had pursued just moments before turned up. In the photograph, the woman looked less pale than she had appeared in the Corae Market, but Lyra could not miss the resemblance.
"This is Camille Sand," the Chief said. Lyra looked around the crowd of agents for her partner so she could share what had just happened to her in Corae, but saw no sign of Jane Harper. "Five years of distinguished service with the Agency, starting in 2666 and ending when she went rogue in 2671."
A murmur ran through the room. Agents seldom dropped off the map, given the battery of psychological tests that any prospective operative had to pass to gain access to the most basic of the advanced chronological devices. Lyra had heard stories of the damage rogue agents could cause during her training. Usually, they consisted of former operatives making futile attempts to alter the course of history, but one had managed to fake the security clearance to read a Chief's Whenabouts Board and reveal the ultimate fates of every agent working in the office that year.
"Camille has been reported in three different locations since she took off her monitor, which last reported from 2671 on this day six hours ago. She could be anywhen, and she is dangerous. I have suspended all of your former missions. Your task is now to locate and capture Camille. Questions?"
"How are we going to find her?" one agent asked.
"Because she wants to be found," Lyra answered.
When all eyes in the room turned to Lyra, she realized she had spoken more loudly than she had intended. "Why do you say that, Agent Tristan?" the Chief asked.
Lyra thought about revealing her prior encounter with Camille Sand, but thought better of it. "No one who wants to go unnoticed wears that color red," she said to the crowd of agents.
The Chief looked at Lyra before returning her gaze to the crowd. "As with any mission, you will each be assigned a year within which to hunt for Camille. Your dossiers are being updated as we speak with information about Camille and the years you have been assigned to. Arm yourselves, but if you get into a situation you cannot manage, use your beacons to signal home for help. Dismissed. Except you, Agent Tristan."
The agents left the room, complaining about the interruption to their research and speculating about how anyone could jump three times in six hours without succumbing to the vertigo. Lyra stayed standing for her upcoming lecture about obeying orders with punctuality.
"You saw her," the Chief said to Lyra.
"Yes, Chief."
"Then you and Agent Harper will return to 2355. Camille's probably long gone by now, but I won't let a solid lead slip through our fingers." The Chief tapped on her Whenabouts Board to denote Lyra and Jane's upcoming locations in time. "Go."
--
"The woman in red--"
"Haven't seen hide nor hair of her, gods bless me!" The shopkeeper ran out of his jewelry stall, mixing prayers into his mumbling about fools and demons.
Lyra looked at Jane. "He saw her."
"Yep."
They squeezed their hands together, then left the stall and walked in the opposite direction from the shopkeeper. Jane's hand went to her concealed gun, while Lyra found her beacon.
"Do you think she's still here?" Lyra asked. With the approach of the midday heat, the crowd in the market had started to dissipate.
"I would have said no, because she's gone on so many jumps already, but you said she looked right at you. She seems interested in you."
"You don't have to be jealous." Lyra swept her eyes along the edges of the crowd. She saw no red.
Jane smiled. "I know. Anyway, she seems to know who you are."
"How?" Had Camille left? She could have found a boat to take her away from the Market, if she had even stayed in this time period.
"I have no idea. Well, she could have gotten her hands on a Whenabouts Board, but a board from 2671 wouldn't show us, and I see no other way. It all depends on whether she wants to be found now or whether she'd rather lead us on a chase through time first."
"Oh, I think I want to find you first."
Jane turned toward Camille's voice and pointed her gun, but within a matter of seconds, a white-clad Camille had disarmed Jane. "If you even think about going for one of those devices on you, I'll make your Agent pay," Camille said, gesturing toward Jane with the gun. "Now, I want to see your hands."
Lyra raised them in the air, away from the beacon she had already activated. "Who sold those to you?" she asked, aware of the idiocy of her question.
"A jump here, a jump there," Camille said. "Should have taken me down when you had the chance."
"I didn't know who you were," Lyra said.
Camille looked around at the people in the market, who ignored them now. Maybe someone had called law enforcement, but the operatives would arrive before any local security did. "Bullshit. Your Agency just hadn't told you, but you knew."
"It's your Agency, too," Jane said.
"I didn't say you could talk." Camille turned back to Jane. "And it's not my Agency. Not after what I've seen."
"What you've seen?" Lyra echoed. "And what's that?"
"That the world can change," Camille said. "Far more than any agency chief ever gave it credit for. We can change time, not just travel in it. You don't believe me? Go to 2546 and find the white--" Then, the bullets hit Camille.
"You all right?" The three backup agents ran over to Lyra and Jane, ignoring Camille's body.
"We're not hurt," Jane said. "Lyra?"
Lyra stared at Camille's body. "The white what?" she asked.
"She was just rambling," Jane said. "The same thing as any other rogue."
"But--" What if Camille had told the truth? What if a device existed that would allow the Agency to break its constraints and use the known chronological devices to do more than simply observe? If so, then that could mean a thousand different things for the Agency that Lyra had never envisioned. If no such thing existed, then why had Camille run? Lyra quelled her thoughts. "Never mind. Are you going to be okay, Jane?"
"Yes. Let's go back."
Lyra looked at her snap-back device and felt the disorientation coming on already. Did it come from anticipation of the return trip, or from having a gun pointed at her partner while a rogue operative tried her best to turn the world upside down? "Not ready yet," she said. "I'm going to take my tonic first this time."