“So, will you help us?” Chura asked.

“All my jumps are being closely monitored right now. Identities on the manifests are being verified. Come to think of it, you shouldn’t be here with me right now.”

Chura smiled at two boys, the brothers I had seen fighting, eating Pittsburgers. Created by a Pittsburgh food vendor, they were pitched as a healthy alternative to the city’s signature Primanti Brothers sandwich of meat, cole slaw, fried egg, and French fries. Instead of substituting ingredients to create a similar concoction, the chef patterned them after the Philly Cheesesteak, and local city planners hoped they would compete with that renowned taste. Customers quickly saw Pittsburgers for what they really were — emu sandwiches with lowfat cheese, onions, and peppers, — and only a few vendors in other cities served them. Still, the boys sloppily devoured theirs.

She shifted her gaze from the boys to me. “Here’s a number where you can reach Aunt Danetta.”

“What about your mother?”

“She’s about ready to give up.”

“Turn herself in?”

“Yeah.”

“Hasn’t that crossed your mind, too?”

“Sure, but Aunt Danetta seems to think we can fix it, if we just get back to 1970 somehow.”

“She knows it’s not an exact science right? I can’t place you at exactly the same moment we went before, and three hours isn’t much time to set things right.”

“If we set the chambers to go back with us, then we have 24 hours, right? That’s what you said.”

“That’s true, but that’s still not much time.”

“Danetta says it’s worth a shot.”

In the human population, only those who travelled back and tampered with the natural unfolding of events were aware of differences when they returned to their own time. Therefore, a person who travelled back and removed a tree’s seed from the ground before it broke into sunlight would be the only one with knowledge of that tree’s former existence in the present. Thus, enforcement of rules governing time travel was almost impossible and presented a worldwide problem that sparked some lawmakers to attempt a ban on time travel. Anything else, they said, would have been too susceptible to corruption.

Exactly the kind of corruption I had abetted on Danetta and crew’s fateful jump. The difference in our case, however, was that Danetta’s note stated very clearly that she was from the future. She gave Time Code Enforcement a clue that ended up in a museum. Very bad form.

To help appease those opposed to time travel, robotics engineers, along with law enforcement officials, built humanoid robots to run TCE. These emotionless beings served as era contamination agents protecting the integrity of the human timeline. Cases were tried by robots, with a jury of same. Every time I made a jump, I had to file a plan with TCE, who scrutinized it before approval or denial. Glock and Speel, my recent acquaintances, were the original team in that elite force’s investigative arm.

“I’ll think about it.” After all, I hadn’t know these women very long. They still could be lying to me.

“It’s a chance to make things right. Here’s where you can find us.” She showed me a location on her display.

“But there’s a factory there,” I said.

“Not this time around,” she said with a wink.

I shook my head. “Okay, I’ll find you later. Now get out of here.”

Why am I doing this? I must have seen Chura as the daughter I never had. Or was a part of me attracted to Danetta? If so, then it definitely was the wrong part.

As I walked the rest of the way home, I realized it gave me more than a healthier heart; it also gave me a clearer mind. The TCE agents could not track me as easily as they could my skyporter. Inconspicuous was the best way to go.

I approached my front door and touched my plasti to the reader.

“Unauthorized entrant. Passage denied,” said my sexy computer. I really should give her a name.

I looked at my plasti, then wiped off a smudge that ran across its length. I slapped it against the reader.

“Hello, Mr. Plotz. Come in,” the temptress’ voice said. The locking mechanism disengaged.

My computer’s voice was the only one that made me want to jump a machine’s bones and pick its brain at the same time. “Access core library.” I queried it about the impact absorption shields, and it found no records. Same thing when I asked for a history of inventor Jacob Beers. Chura’s story checked out fine.

That meant that I was in a lot more trouble than I thought. Although any and every era contamination was a crime, those that resulted in harm or death carried more severe penalties. TCE wouldn’t know of Beers specifically, or impact absorption shields, but they could surmise that every death from Buffalo River floods beyond 1970 would not have happened without Danetta’s meddling. Even with that tragic detail, a good defense attorney could argue that Danetta’s note had a positive impact on humankind. Unfortunately for her, however, human emotion was not a part of the jury deliberations.

Then, of course, there’s the matter of my wiping from the logs the sheet of toilet paper that changed the world. I laughed. They had enshrined the damn thing.

I walked into my room and took off my clothes, then took a shower. Walking was fine, but I was taking far too many showers because of it. We hadn’t lived up to science fiction’s vision of a future without water-based cleaning. Our residential reclamation units were pretty snazzy, though. After getting washed up, I drank a glass of the same water I used to take a shower.

My Ruger BFG 3000 still lay on my closet’s top shelf. After getting dressed, I grabbed the gun and tucked it between my pants and the small of my back, then let my shirttail hang over it. I didn’t want to shoot anybody.

(continue to Part Eight)