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  Despite the ongoing battle, and the library’s fire, the courtyard was an oasis of sorts. The Egyptians were too busy to pay them notice and he and Carolyn had been sitting these last few minutes, exchanging stares with the spitting satyr.

  But Felix’s mind was racing. Part of him was thinking of the scrolls that had burned and was furious that he hadn’t saved a single one, a lost play perhaps or philosophical treatise. Another part was dwelling on the fallen clone and how ghastly it had been to watch Carolyn die, or her stand-in at least. But mainly he was wondering how they were going to get home. Between them they had one figurine and it bore a single charge. One of them could jump to the future, retrieve two figurines, then rescue the other. But there was no way he could leave Carolyn there, traumatized as she was and with a bad concussion; but for this very reason he couldn’t trust her to return. Despite her normal strength of mind, her present state was fragile.

  So how were they to leave? He exchanged stares with the satyr. Its mocking smile seemed to say that they were stuck there forever.

  “At least we saved our present,” he said. Hearing him, Carolyn stirred.

  “I killed her,” she whispered. “She’s dead because of me.”

  Felix took her hand, which was dead to the touch. He wanted to remind her that her clone had almost destroyed their world, but any such talk would have been futile. The fact was that she’d killed her clone. It was bad enough to take a life, but to kill a version of oneself! Every cell in the victim was a mirror of one’s own and …

  He paused a moment. Every cell a mirror…? Yes, because the DNA was identical. That’s what a subject and a clone had in common so …

  “I think I have it!” he cried. “I can take us home!”

  “We’re here,” Felix panted. “I’m pretty sure this will work.”

  They were in the temple of Poseidon, god of the sea. It had a double peristasis and oversized cella. They were standing in the latter, beside a statue of the god, a bearded figure armed with a trident. How strange to think this statue would one day sit in the Space Hub and contemplate the vastness of deep space. Felix was looking nervously about him. While walking to this temple, they’d drawn people’s stares, mainly the men who were wrestling the fire. Suspicious of their blood-stained garb, a few had started chasing them. Felix and Carolyn had beaten them to the temple, but it was just a matter of time before the group arrived.

  “I know this statue. It’s located in the Space Hub. Like every statue from antiquity, it’s been charged by the doctor and its default date is our present. From the Hub, you can contact your dad and he’ll convey you to the TPM.”

  Carolyn shook her head, as if to say this wouldn’t work.

  “It will work. Think. To prevent strangers from jumping to our future, this portal is based on the clone’s DNA. But your DNA’s the same so the portal should open.”

  Fists hammered the cella door.

  “Go!” Felix said, handling his figurine.

  She stretched her hand out. When her fingers were an inch from the sea god’s beard, she turned, looked at Felix, and gave him a kiss. A second later a yellow light erupted and she was gone. Six men burst into the room just then and Felix bore down on the figurine.

  The Egyptians saw a young man smile as time hurled his atoms into the embrace of eternity.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Let’s begin,” the general spoke. “This shouldn’t take long.”

  He exchanged looks with the group about him. They were standing in the chamber with the TPM. Four people stood about him in a ring, Professor MacPherson, Dr. Lee, Carolyn, and Felix. The professor looked his cheerful self, but Dr. Lee seemed more morose than normal. His posture was that of a broken man.

  Two days had passed since their return to the present, and the pair had used that time to recover from their trauma. Although she’d slept a lot and been treated for shock, Carolyn wasn’t her old self yet. Her eyes were ringed and she had a haunted look. She was talking again, but had little to say, about her adventures or anything else. While he hated to admit as much, Felix felt that Mem-rase might help her. If the procedure allowed her to feel at ease, it might not be a bad idea.

  He himself had barely rested. He’d had numerous errands to run, ones he didn’t dare postpone. He’d also wanted to check on his dad, who was still sitting among his books without the desire to crack them open. While his fatigue was catching up with him, Felix was glad to keep himself busy. The memory of those burning scrolls would have driven him crazy.

  Happily, he possessed a relic from the past. As General Manes brought their meeting to order, Felix clutched four knucklebones. It thrilled him to think they’d last been touched by Caesar. They also gave him the courage to cross another “Rubicon.”

  “I want to commend my daughter and Felix. It’s because of them that, again, we’ve been saved from the plague. I know I gave you a hard time, Felix, and hope you’ll accept my deepest apologies. As for you Carolyn, I can’t say how proud I am. You’ve met my expectations and left them in the dust. It’s a pity we can’t talk about the TPM, if only to tell the world how much they owe you. Still, for what it’s worth, you have our warmest thanks.”

  Here the general started to clap. Dr. Lee and the professor quickly joined in. Addressing Bernard, the Space Station’s system, the general asked for servings of champagne. Instantly five glasses appeared in an alcove.

  “To Felix and Carolyn,” the general said, holding up his flute.

  “To Felix and Carolyn,” the professor agreed.

  “To Felix and Carolyn,” Dr. Lee whispered.

  “To unfinished business,” Felix added, before sipping his drink. It was delicious and the bubbles tickled his nose. He took a second sip, to fortify his courage.

  As he expected, the men lowered their drinks and eyed him warily. Carolyn, too, studied him with interest. She suspected his comment referred back to their chat in the Pharos lighthouse — twenty-two hundred years ago!

  “We’re not safe,” Felix said. “Not while the culprits are free.”

  “If you’re referring to your father,” the general said, setting down his glass. “We’ve established his guilt beyond the shadow of a doubt.”

  “Are you sure?” Felix asked. “Because if you’ve nabbed the wrong man, the real criminal’s at large and can strike whenever he pleases. And next time around he might succeed.”

  “Look,” the general said, his tone cool and abrupt, “we’ve covered this already. I’m truly grateful for everything you’ve done, but I’d rather not rehash the issue. You have to accept your father’s guilt….”

  Carolyn touched him, her way of urging him to let Felix speak. He turned and glared at her. When she refused to relent, he faced Felix again.

  “I’ll give you five minutes.”

  “Thank you. I’d like to show you something in OR3. And Bernard,” he called to the station’s system, “can you link me up with Mentor, my domestic unit?”

  “Processing,” Bernard replied.

  “My father’s arrest started with a pencil,” Felix spoke, as he led the way to OR3. “It was one of the factors that led you, general, to show my dad’s picture to Dr. Lee. There was also that fibre from a Zacron suit. Dr. Lee confirmed my dad was his attacker and … you know the rest.”

  “You’re forgetting the shuttle,” the general said tersely. “The one belonging to your mother’s firm. Its log shows clearly that —”

  “Its log was tampered with,” Felix said evenly. “Yesterday I went to CosmoConn. The CEO, my mother’s friend, examined the shuttle’s piloting software and found a rogue signal embedded in its hard drive. It infiltrated the shuttle’s system while my family and I were being taken to the Space Hub. With it in place, the intruder could ghost-pilot the craft.”

  “Who’s this intruder?” the general demanded.

  “And why did I ID your father?” the doctor asked. His eyes were wild and his voice was high.

  “I’ll get to that later,
” Felix said. By now they’d reached OR3. It was a tight fit, but they squeezed themselves in. The general looked skeptical, but not as scornful as before. The doctor was nervous, while the professor was his unflappable self. Carolyn stood directly behind Felix, as if watching his back.

  “This is cozy,” the professor joked.

  “It’s more than that,” Felix said. “Do you see that structure?” He was pointing to the operating bed that, once upon a time, Aceticus had lain on. More than ever, its box-like qualities made it seem like a coffin.

  “What are we looking at?” the general asked.

  “As a matter of fact,” Felix said, “you’re looking at a cloning tank.” Stepping forward, he reached under a retractable arm. Inside the joint was a hidden switch, which, when pressed, caused the padding on the bed to open. Its interior revealed a hollow space replete with ducts and a tangle of tubes. It also contained a set of cortical implants.

  “The ducts allowed for the passage of fluids,” Felix explained. “While those tubes admitted nutrients and bio-pharm. And notice the implants. They uploaded these files while the clone was taking shape.” He took a blue sphere from a nearby shelf. It was labelled CM I and was part of a series of six. Inserting this into a nearby port, he ordered Bernard to play the contents. A nearby screen revealed a stream of images.

  “Cathy!” the general gasped.

  “Mom!” Carolyn murmured.

  A woman resembling Carolyn filled the screen. She was laughing and shuffling holographic bears — a toy Felix had played with as a baby. Leaning in, she kissed the recording lens — the lens, of course, was Carolyn herself. These images were her memories, which had been digitalized and transferred to the sphere’s flash drive.

  “The clone was created here,” Felix said, “and this is where Carolyn’s memories were stolen. Obviously my father had no hand in this business.”

  The group was silent. Without awaiting their comments, Felix returned to the TPM. The general was frowning and massaging his neck — a sign he was digesting the implications — the doctor looked as white as a ghost and the professor’s hands were buried in his pockets. He still looked cheerful, but a touch distracted.

  “So you’re saying …” the general said once they’d gathered by the TPM.

  “I’m saying your daughter was cloned by Dr. Lee.”

  “Impossible!” the general cried. “No one is more loyal than Chen!” His eyes flew to the doctor who was staring at the floor. “Chen! Speak up! Look, maybe I was wrong about your father, Felix, but Chen had no reason …”

  “He had every reason,” Felix said. “Bernard!” he called out. “Is Mentor online?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “I am here, Felix,” a familiar voice broke in. Hearing Mentor, Felix almost smiled.

  “Two days ago,” Felix told the general, “I gave Mentor a sample from the clone’s bloodied tunic. I asked him to determine the fourth date programmed into the tracer.”

  “We performed tests,” the general said. “They were inconclusive —”

  “So the doctor maintained,” Felix broke in. “But Mentor came up with a different result. Tell us, Mentor.”

  “The date in the tracer,” Mentor said, “is June 6, 2213, 5:34 a.m.”

  The general gazed at Felix. “So?” he asked. “What does that prove?”

  “Shall I tell him doctor?” Felix said. “Or would you like to explain?”

  Dr. Lee groaned. He could barely stand. With the utmost effort he tried to speak, but the only sound produced was a meaningless gurgle. Finally, a single word emerged: “Charlie.”

  “What he means to say,” Felix explained, “is that the plague killed his son on June 7, 2213. The clone was programmed to jump to June 6 so that she could hand Charlie the lupus ridens and keep him alive. In exchange, the doctor would co-operate.”

  “Co-operate?” the general asked. “With whom?”

  “Come now, Isaiah,” Professor MacPherson broke in. “You’re usually not so slow. He’s talking about me. I persuaded Chen to join my little plot. At my suggestion, he cloned your daughter, programmed the tracer, ran the TPM, and activated portals in the ancient world. He also caused those mini blackouts and helped me with that signal, the one that enabled us to frame poor Eric. This was after I’d devised my plan to send someone back to assassinate Aceticus.”

  The professor had backed away from the group and was standing just outside the TPM’s sphere. Despite his confession, he was as calm as ever. He was smiling kindly, his tone was soft, and his eyes gleamed with their usual good humour. To judge by his appearance, he looked every inch the scholar, and nothing like the monster that he was.

  “Ewan,” the general said, shaking his head. “I don’t understand. How could you?”

  “How could I?” the professor asked, not just smiling, but grinning now. “Surely you mean, how could I not? After all, someone had to act. The only candidates were Felix and his father, but they were too ‘decent’ to get their hands dirty. That left me. There was no one else. And given my years, I had to act soon before I lost my strength of purpose.”

  “What are you talking about?” the general asked.

  “You don’t see it?” the professor cried. “No, of course you don’t. We’re finished as a species, Isaiah. Our passion is spent. The pride, the despair, the hilarity, the rage: these feelings made us what we are, allowed us to triumph over impossible odds, to evolve from the apes into poets and thinkers, yet we’ve practically rendered them non-existent. The same is true of our most hallowed memories. We owe a huge debt to the ghosts before us, yet we refuse to pay them the slightest attention, as if this,” he motioned to the machines in the room, “all of this was the product of our genius alone. War has vanished, yes, and there’s no poverty, violence, crime, or sickness. When we awake each morning, we face comfortable prospects and know the day will pass without conflict. But what have we really achieved? Sure, we live in comfort, but at the cost of everything that makes us human. With ERR and Mem-rase, we’ve tossed our very souls aside and turned ourselves into lifeless machines. We don’t weep or laugh or grieve or rage? Then we are dead men walking and nothing more. Easy there, Isaiah,” he suddenly barked.

  General Manes was closing in on the professor. Nonplussed, MacPherson had reached into his jacket and pulled out an old Colt .45. He was pointing it at the general who retreated a step.

  “I may seem like a brute,” he continued, “but my intentions were lofty. My goal was to reclaim our majesty of old and snap us out of the trance we’re in. If the plague were raging in our midst again, we’d have experienced a wide range of emotions, sorrow, rage, and terror, to be sure, but determination and pride, as well, and sacrifice, love, generosity, and triumph. We would have been alive once more! Alive, inspiring, appreciative, and noble! I love humankind too much to watch it toss its higher functions aside. That’s why I was ready to sacrifice millions; by doing so I would have resurrected billions. You may think me a madman but I’m a saint in fact.”

  “Would a saint kill every human on the globe?” Felix asked. “If the plague had returned, we would all be finished.”

  “I didn’t know,” MacPherson replied with a shrug, “but even so, I was doing us a huge favour. We are better off dead than living like robots. I regret nothing, nothing, do you understand?”

  “But I do,” the doctor broke in. “If I’d known the plague would prove so destructive, I’d never have agreed to help the professor. And my decision to bring Charlie back at the cost of others, this was utterly shameful. I was wrong and …”

  “You weren’t wrong, Chen,” the professor said, with a frosty smile. “You were weak and sentimental. And you, Felix, well, I’m disappointed. Besides me, you’re the last true human alive. You know exactly what treasures we’ve lost, and here you are supporting these ERR freaks. I expected better from you. But there’s hope yet. I can kill Aceticus myself once and for all. Get back!” he yelled in warning.

  General Manes had
stepped forward again, along with Felix and Carolyn. The hammer on the gun was cocked and the professor was waving it desperately. Felix was thinking that he should rush MacPherson, even at the cost of a bullet to the chest; after all, he’d die if the old man escaped and managed to get the plague back on track. Even so, his muscles were slow to respond.

  “Alea iacta est,” the professor said with a death-like grin. He then touched the sphere’s see-through door. The gases inside were swirling madly, as if a fateful journey was about to transpire. In a moment the professor would be crossing the threshold. Felix was desperate to attack, but his legs wouldn’t let him.

  It didn’t matter.

  “Chen! Let go!” the professor cried. “I’ll shoot if I have to….”

  The doctor had grabbed his one-time partner and the pair was struggling on the sphere’s threshold. Its door was now gaping open and wisps of gas were streaming into the chamber. They curled around the wrestling duo and tugged at their limbs, as if teasing them to give eternity a go. The doctor’s hands were on the professor’s right wrist, trying to shake the gun free of his grip. The professor was clawing at the doctor’s face and screaming and cursing in Greek and Latin. His glasses fell and clattered to the floor. Felix moved forward, but his response was slow, as if an unseen force were holding him back. The doctor forced the professor’s hand lower. MacPherson grappled for the doctor’s throat. Their bodies swayed violently and spun once, twice, in circles, as if glued to each other and desperate to break free. Felix was five feet off, four, three …

  An explosion sounded. It was muffled slightly, but echoed around the chamber and took forever to fade away. Even as Felix came to a stop, the general opened his mouth in fear, and Carolyn swiftly dropped to the floor, the doctor calmly straightened himself, the pistol clenched in his right hand.