| |
––––––––
September 25th, 1912 San Francisco
MATT heard a horn honking and leaped backward by instinct before he knew where he was or what he was doing. A big, cobalt blue Model T sped through the space where he’d been standing, and he turned to watch it trundle off down the road. I thought they were all black.
Other cars chugged up and down the wide road they shared with some horse-drawn carriages, bicyclists, and a frightening number of pedestrians, who strolled up and down the edges of the thoroughfare. His attention attracted by a loud dinging noise, Matt looked in the other direction to see a cable car pulling its way up a cross street.
Making sure he was well out of the way of that terrible traffic, Matt ducked into the shadows of an alleyway and checked his watch—which confirmed the impression he’d gotten from what he’d just witnessed. They’d gone back in time, rather than forward, and by quite a bit. Nineteen hundred twelve. Somehow it was ten in the morning, and he’d managed to lose Page.
He switched over to the locator screen and was stunned to see no blip and no red bar, no indication of any other Traveler in any direction. So the question wasn’t where he’d find Page, but when.
Flipping a few screens over to an app unique to this master Travel device, he saw her coordinates—exactly where she was in space and time. Very useful. While the locator app seemed to work in a way akin to radar, simply pinging off other devices then relaying limited information, this program could be ‘tuned in’ to a unique device, then pinpoint its precise spatiotemporal position. Without knowing the ‘frequencies’ of specific watches, it was still of limited utility, but he and Page had tested until he had locked onto her own device. And he had left it tuned to that frequency.
Page was sixteen days behind him and, from the similarity in latitude and longitude, in the same city. Wherever that was. At least it shouldn’t be too difficult to find her—he only had to wait until she caught up with him. That can’t be right. Maybe he needed to figure out where she’d be sixteen days after she’d landed here—which would be today.
That didn’t quite make sense to him either, but he was having trouble thinking clearly. Although it had been ten in the evening just a few minutes ago, now it was ten in the morning—and at least from his brain’s perspective, it required some coffee to start functioning for the day.
His hand reached into his pants pocket to check his change. But while his mind might not be operating at peak performance, it did manage to arrive at the realization that his funds from the future would not be considered legal tender. He needed contemporary cash even to buy himself a cup of coffee.
That meant going to the bank. Page hadn’t considered it necessary or appropriate for him to have access to the Travelers’ Trust, so she hadn’t demonstrated exactly how it was done. He’d seen enough, though, to get the general idea—he’d experimented on his own and seen how simple the procedure was, so he was already familiar with what he had to do.
Matt considered that cable car, and the hilly nature of the geography around him, and concluded it was probably San Francisco he’d landed in. He toggled to the resources screen and a list of contemporary branch locations, then noted an address for the American International State Bank on Montgomery Street in San Francisco—the only branch west of the Mississippi. He hoped he was right about where he was. Because traveling very far without any money would be quite a challenge.
He called up the daily access code for the trust and memorized it together with the bank’s location. Then he stepped out into the street again and gazed at the passing throngs. Since his digital wristwatch certainly didn’t belong in nineteen twelve, he rolled down his shirtsleeves and buttoned his cuffs. He’d do well to look as conservative as possible anyway.
Thankfully his clothes shouldn’t really be an issue—his dress-casual shirt and slacks weren’t up to the standard of formal three-piece suits many men were wearing, but seemed respectable enough compared with how the workers were dressed, if only he had a hat. He was certainly cooler and more comfortably attired than any of them. Maybe they’d assume he was a college student.
At least no one recoiled from him as he tried to ask people for directions. Fortunately he’d arrived fairly close to his destination, and after a few blocks he found himself on Montgomery Street approaching the modest five-story brick building that housed the bank. And it was late enough in the day for it to actually be open. Hoping they weren’t already on a lunch break, Matt walked through the door ready to do battle with a banker.
His first thought looking at the lobby confirmed the impression he’d formed from the outside—a lot less posh than the New York City branch he had visited in the future. But then the San Francisco of this era seemed like it was still holding on to the ghost of the Old West in many ways. The thin man in striped shirt and glasses, who’d been summoned by a clerk in response to Matt requesting to see the manager, certainly looked like a banker even if he was dressed differently. Interesting that in an age of more formal attire, this banker should dress so casually. Their banker in the twenty-first century always seemed as if he had just stepped out of this era of heavy three-piece suits.
Shaking his head, Matt focused on the man approaching him and attempted to imitate Page’s past performance with bankers. “I am a Travelers’ Trust recipient, and I have come to access funds from this year’s stipend.”
The man replied without batting an eye. “If you would give me your name, sir, and the first four digits of the access code for today’s date?”
“Matt.” He was confused for only a moment before he realized that Page’s first action when she arrived sixteen days ago would’ve been to come here, for the same reason as he—which was why the banker was familiar with the request. Matt rattled off the first four digits and added, “Page has been here.”
The banker blinked. “You know the lady? Well, I shouldn’t be surprised I suppose, since you’re both trust recipients. Of course, I’ll need to confirm that with the main branch. You’re in luck that I already know the correct procedure, after dealing with Miss Page, so this should go quite smoothly.”
So Page had cleared the way for Matt. But that didn’t answer the question of where she was now, or why she wasn’t showing up on the locator screen as being anywhere. He was impatient to ask this man about her, but he didn’t want the banker to clam up on him. He’d have to wait for the right time.
“Well, that is fortunate, as I’m rather in need of ready cash.” And coffee even more so, but he could not have the one without the other.
The man made a moue of distaste, likely at such a bald statement of financial desperation. At least, that’s what Matt imagined. He didn’t have a lot of time to daydream though—the banker disappeared behind the teller windows and re-appeared several minutes later with a smile.
“My name is Mr. Pitt, sir. If you will follow me, we can take care of the details and send the request for your funds off to New York. I’m afraid I’ll need to take an inked impression of your thumb first, and then it will require two weeks or more for the transfer.” He gestured at a clerk, then led Matt to a back room with a wooden table and two chairs.
Matt sat down and stretched his long legs off to one side. “I suppose there’s no way to get my money more swiftly than that?” Seeing the banker sadly shaking his head, Matt copied the movement. “Alright. I’m sure Page will give me what I need to tide me over until the cash comes through. Do you happen to know where I can find her?”
Mr. Pitt stood and watched as the clerk entered and sat down across from Matt and took his thumbprint. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. When Miss Page came in yesterday morning to finalize her account details, I got the impression that she was leaving town.” He saw the look of disappointment on Matt’s face. “But don’t worry. I can offer you a similar small loan as I did her, while you’re waiting for the funds from New York.”
Smiling and nodding at the banker, Matt sighed on the inside. Now he knew why Page hadn’t shown up on the locator screen—she’d Traveled away only the day before he’d arrived. And that display of her temporal location had been relative to his own. Not so useful after all. He needed to know where to find her, not where and when she’d already been.
“I’ll appreciate the money. I don’t suppose Page said anything about where she was headed?”
“I’m afraid not, sir. Although she indicated she would return to this bank, she said it likely wouldn’t be for two or three years.”
Matt nodded and kept his face blank. Of course Page would’ve Traveled into the future—she’d have had no idea when in time Matt was, so that would’ve been the reasonable course to take. And he knew by now how logical she was. He couldn’t know for sure exactly when she’d Traveled to until fifteen days had passed, but then he would have to wait that long for his funds to come anyway.
Meanwhile the bank clerk, having finished with Matt’s thumb, had slid a simple sheet of paper over, to be filled out for requesting those funds and needing the full access code for today—and along with it another form, a promissory note for the loan.
Mr. Pitt talked as Matt wrote. “We’ll send your request along with a copy of your thumbprint to the main branch in New York by secure carrier for final confirmation. Then, assuming all is in order, they’ll dispatch your funds back to us here, and we’ll set up your account.”
“At which point you’ll get your money back and stop worrying I might skip town without repaying.”
The banker pursed his lips for a moment in disapproval. Narrowing his eyes, he asked a question. “Do we have an address in town where we can reach you?”
Matt grinned. Bankers didn’t have any sense of humor, especially when it came to money. “Not yet, but I’ll let you know as soon as I know myself where I’ll be staying. Since I’ll want to be notified when my money has arrived.” Neither Mr. Pitt nor the money meant much to Matt right now though—only getting to Page.
The clerk stood and handed the stipend request and Matt’s thumbprint to the manager, who turned and gestured with them. “I’ll see that these are sent off today. If you’ll follow Mr. Jones to one of the teller windows, he’ll withdraw the cash we’re loaning you, in the denominations you’d prefer.”
Stopping at the door and glancing back, Mr. Pitt smiled. “Miss Page requested half of the remaining stipend for the year—I hope that what’s left will be adequate for your needs.”
Matt kept grinning. “I’m not surprised she did that. I requested the rest—I’m sure it will be enough to pay back your loan and still meet the few needs I have.” In this second decade of the twentieth century, that thousand dollars the bank was loaning him should go a long way itself.
He stood and followed the clerk out and across the lobby to stand in front of a teller window while Mr. Jones stood behind it, all without another word to Mr. Pitt. Matt made sure he got some of the cash in coins, for coffee.
Out the door and glad to be free of the bank, he strolled a few blocks over into an apparent market district. There he found a little café where he could sit at an outside table and watch people go by. And hopefully get a cup of joe and some serious thinking done.
He was tempted to repine. If only he’d landed a day earlier, or if Page had waited around one more day before Traveling, then he wouldn’t have had to deal with the bank or figure out how to find her. It was no good wondering what might’ve been though—better to focus on what he would do now.
A hefty man with a big mustache and wearing an apron came out and hovered beside Matt’s table. “And what can I get for you today, sir?”
“Just a cup of coffee, please.”
The man’s face fell. Apparently anywhere, anytime, only ordering coffee was disappointing. However, the stout fellow, who Matt presumed to be the proprietor, rallied with a smile. “It will be two bits, sir, for a cup of our fine coffee.”
Matt goggled. “Twenty-five cents for one cup of coffee.” Surely he’d heard wrong, and that included refills at least. “This is nineteen twelve.”
The man’s face was red, but he shook his head. “What does the year have to do with it? Our brew is quality. If that doesn’t matter to you, you can find a cup of swill somewhere for only ten cents.”
“Ten cents!?”
“It’s the Coffee Trust. These bankers monopolize the exchange and charge exorbitant prices, leaving us to pass the cost on to our customers. So why doesn’t the government bust up this monopoly like they’ve done the rest?”
Matt smiled and shook his head. “I don’t know, but as I need a good cup of coffee...” He took some change from his pocket and set a quarter on the table. He’d wait to order a second cup until he’d seen if their brew really was quality.
The man took his two bits. “Milk or sugar, sir?”
“Black, please.”
“Right away, sir.” He returned several minutes later with cup and saucer.
Matt took a small sip of the hot liquid and nodded his approval. If he was going to have to pay so much for coffee, it ought to be worth it. And it was halfway decent coffee. He took a few more sips and waited for his brain to warm up.
When he felt he could focus, Matt first considered Page—she had arrived far from their intended destination with no way to know when or where he might be. And she wasn’t the type to sit around and wait for him to find her. So she’d done the only reasonable thing in her position—she’d started back to the future. After waiting two weeks to make sure of her funds going forward.
Probably she’d Traveled the full three years her leader device allowed, since she had a very long way to go. But Matt would know for sure in fifteen days, when he’d been here as long as she had. Though he wasn’t sure why the professor’s device was showing their relative positions in time as if a fixed relationship existed between their personal timestreams. If there was some way to adjust the ‘temporal tuner’ to display where and when Page was in his relative future, Matt didn’t know. And he couldn’t chance fiddling with it, not when he’d learn exactly where and when she’d Traveled to in a couple weeks anyway—he still had a lot to learn about time-travel mechanics. When he did find out her new coordinates, he would want to jump ahead in time to meet her. But he couldn’t do that either.
The way their ten-year jaunt into the future had gone so horribly wrong, Matt didn’t dare Travel using the professor’s watch, not until he could be sure he’d fixed it. What if I went backward in time again, instead of forward?
He didn’t hold out much hope that he could repair the device. Before they’d left he had inspected every nanometer of its interior structure—there was no more physical damage to be fixed. It had to be a problem with the programming, and while Page did not seem to have any difficulty working in the base thirty-two code it used, Matt found it challenging in the extreme. Either way, he still didn’t really understand how the technology actually worked. It would be too risky to use until he did.
Thankfully Matt had another way to reach her—one that would require phenomenal patience on his part—the slow path. Once he knew when and where Page would appear, he only had to make sure he was there when she arrived. The location should be San Francisco, since that would be where Page would’ve left from. But he would not count on anything anymore. Besides, he’d had personal experience of that particular feature not working properly.
But even if Page popped up on the other side of the globe, Matt should be able to get there in the two or three years he’d have to wait. And he’d have the money from the trust as well as all that time. When she materialized wherever she was going to, he’d be there to meet her. But just in case he missed her, he ought to leave a message for her with Mr. Pitt when he returned to the bank.
That way if Matt wasn’t there when she landed, she’d wait for him. Hopefully.