“Damn!” he muttered. “That felt real!”
He walked to the refrigerator, opened it, pulled out a can of beer, popped it open, walked into his living room, and sat down on his padded easy chair, trying to assimilate everything that he’d experienced in Tombstone.
There was a knock at the door. He was about to get up when he heard Lisa’s voice.
“Stay where you are. I let myself in.”
“How did you do that?” he asked. “It was double-locked.”
“I am not without my skills,” she answered.
She walked into the living room, dressed like the twenty-first-century Lisa once again, stared at him, and then smiled. “I must say that you don’t look any the worse for wear.”
“What wear?” he said. “We took another imaginary trip, saw a bunch of historical figures shoot it out like on a movie set or maybe Disneyland, and came back.”
She smiled. “I heard you say that it felt real.”
“Well, it did.”
“Of course it did. It was real, Eddie.”
“Sure,” he said sardonically. “I’ve just been in a gunfight in Tombstone half an hour ago.”
“No,” she said. “Closer to a century and a half ago.”
“Come on,” he said irritably. “It was all an illusion. You’re the Mistress of Illusions, remember?”
“You really think it was an illusion?” she asked, amused.
“Yes.”
“Have you got a computer here?”
“On the desk in the corner,” said Raven.
“Do me a favor, Eddie,” said Lisa. “Walk over to it and activate it.”
He stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out what she was driving at, but finally shrugged, walked over to the desk, seated himself, and activated the computer.
“It’s working?” she asked.
He stared at the screen. “It’s working.”
“Good,” she said. “Now Google ‘Gunfight at the O.K. Corral.’”
He did as she requested—and was told that no such thing existed.
“Something’s wrong with this,” he said. “Google can’t seem to find it.”
“Anything’s possible,” she said with a shrug. “Can you try to bring up one other thing?”
“What?” asked Raven.
“Gunfight at the Clanton Ranch.”
“There’s no such thing,” said Raven. “It was exciting, but it was imaginary.”
“Humor me,” she said.
“What the hell,” he said with a shrug, typing it in. The screen changed, and he stared at it in rapt fascination.
“Well?” asked Lisa.
“The Gunfight at the Clanton Ranch,” he read, “perhaps the most famous battle of the Old West, took place between two families of the Tombstone, Arizona area—the Earps and the Clantons. When the dust had cleared, four Earps lay dead on the ground. It is thought, though not known for sure, that the notorious gunfighter Johnny Ringo took part in the battle on the Clantons’ side.”
“Still think it was imaginary?” she asked.
“Let me check a public computer and see if I get the same results, just in case you rigged this one.”
“Be my guest.”
“Next time we go out.”
“Do you really think it’ll read any differently?” she asked.
He paused for a long moment, letting what he’d just read sink in. “No, it really happened,” he said at last. Suddenly he frowned. “And that means that I killed Wyatt Earp!”
“You’re a better shot than you thought,” said Lisa.
“Have I changed any other parts of history?” he asked.
“A few,” she said. “A lot of your excursions were to fantasy worlds, where history doesn’t exist and hence can’t be changed.” She smiled. “There are still Munchkins, there’s still a Dracula . . .”
“I get the picture,” said Raven.
“I hope so, because you’ve only got one test left.”
“Before what?” he asked promptly.
“Before the mission you were created and chosen for,” said Lisa.