Chapter Text
January 2nd, 2018
She finally arrived; it had been a long drive, but this detour was as necessary as the conference she recently attended.
‘Fuuuuuuck! Who schedules a conference on New Year’s Day?’ She thought that a week ago, and it still seemed proper now--maybe with a few more creative words thrown in for laughs.
The symposium had been a drag; nothing but old guys with hardly any hair. They had spouted their theories and conclusions, and the audience excitedly ate it up. 'Of course, they did,' she pondered. 'They're all old bald guys too.' She had felt out of place, but she always had at those kinds of events. It seemed every couple of months she would have to drop everything and go someplace and have a meeting of her peers.
"Peers… Riiiiiggghhhtttt…" She said out loud with a smirk. She was used to talking with herself; it was so much better conversation. “Oh, if they only knew…”
She leaned the seat back and just closed her eyes and thought about some of the things that have come to pass. The trip to UC Berkley had been pretty uneventful. She had driven down after getting a mandatory invitation, 'summons would better describe it.' But such was her life right now, a perpetual student, and a doctoral candidate; though at such a young age that was definitely not a plus. The topic was about the fabric of spacetime, and she had been studying this subject for as long as she could remember. She had her reasons, though she hadn’t been ignorant about the matter prior to her ‘official curriculum.’ The old guys had droned on and on about quantum effects, parallel universes--the multiverse as it were--and how String Theory unified everything including apparently the kitchen sink.
"Shit! I can't believe one of those fuckers used that as the opening joke," she reflected, remembering it had been mildly amusing; wrong, but amusing. Throughout, she’d mostly just sat there in the lecture hall, back against the furthest wall nearest the door where her biggest accomplishment had been to reach the next round in a sciencey bio-plague phone game. She smirked a bit. That had been more amusing.
She had never once imagined her education to be, well… this; physics, engineering, and almost everything in between. ‘Okay probably Chemistry. Well, I don’t need that where I’m headed now do I?’ A small smile showed up on her face. It had been surprisingly easy, or at least easier than she initially expected. 'That's what happens when you know something is possible, you just gotta figure out why and how' she thought, and then contemplated for a bit more about the true nature of the word ‘easy’--the smile faded. 'Ok, not the math! Never the fucking math.' She used to, in what seemed a previous life, love math. ‘What a noob…’ which was a term a far cry from her more ‘colorful’ vocabulary. Of course, her whole outward behavior and look was just a role, just for appearances. That’s how you played the game. No one would have ever approved admission into the graduate programs… for a punk.
"Right now, I go where they send me." She said to no one in particular, breaking out of the funk she had been entering—and wasn’t that the fucking truth. They say go and that was the end of it, but at least it kept her funded. It was all part of The Plan.
She could have flown to the conference, in fact that was the easiest way and definitely less time consuming. ‘Heh!, time…’ Yet, the return trip required this stop anyway, and it would have been hell to fly in and then bus or Uber from Portland. So, with some of her extra grant money she had rented a car and drove the 14 hours to the conference on New Year’s Eve, stopping only for rest stops and to charge the car. The trip back, well at least as far as to her current location, was equally uneventful. Both drives had given her lots of time to think but without the luxury of sleep, caffeine solved that little problem.
"Pretty cool car." She remembered saying the same thing earlier. "I really ought to get one of these someday…" her mind wandered as she sat there in the driver’s seat. "Yeah, when I'm not a starving student…" Another smirk.
"Wonder if things will be different this time?" She thought about this a bit. If things were different that meant more work, but also a new phase in her project to start. If, on the other hand, everything stayed like they had been, then it was back to the drawing board. Such was science and it couldn’t be helped. She’d figure it out eventually. She’d just need more time.
"…Time…Yeah…That…"
‘Remember why I’m doing this…’
Closing the door, she looked towards her destination. The entrance was gated with a large stone arch and fence protecting the area within. It was a place of memories, respect… and of loss. It was something she'd repeated every year give or take a couple of days, though it didn't get any easier--it probably never would. She moved to the back and opened the trunk to retrieve a rough wool blanket and an equipment case. January after all, while there's no snow on the ground, it’s not warm that's for sure; no use freezing her ass off while she waited.
With her packages gathered she closed the lid of the trunk and turned back towards the path leading to the stone portal. Sure, it was gated and locked, but she'd taken care of that a long time ago--it was just a padlock, nothing serious. Approaching the gate illuminated by the lone streetlight overhead she put down the case and reached into her pockets for her keys. She hadn't forgotten them. "Yeah, not like the first time. Damn it was lucky I was so much closer back then or I wouldn’t be here today." Placing the key into the lock she looked around. Trespassing is still a crime; one she’d done in the past; though nowadays she could probably talk her way out of it. <click> The lock hadn't been changed even to this day. Why would it? Nothing really changes around here. She swung the gate open, stepped in and closed and locked it behind her. Turning to the interior of the open place she sighed and took it all in.
"Welcome back…" she said, some tension forcing its way into her voice. "You think by now I'd be used to this fucking shit, but nooooooooo."
It had taken years to calm the more aggressive part of who she was. ‘Calm really wasn’t the right word, she thought, but she’d been through a lot so it would have to do. Places like this, however, brought it all back, and she really didn’t have time to get distracted. She needed to stay focused instead of letting her past-self seep through too much. She took her first step down the path to the destination she knew well. She reminded herself, for maybe the hundredth time, that she was here for a purpose, one that she had committed herself to doing a long time ago. A path she had decided upon, just like the one in front of her.
"This is only part of The Plan… Just part of The Plan," she reminded herself for the 101st and 102nd times. ‘Who’s keeping count, right?'
"One step at a time…" came the quiet reply to herself as she continued down the path; her stomach twisted.
Welcome back to Arcadia Bay Cemetery. Fuuuuuuuuckkkk….
‘This is really unreal,’ she thought while walking amongst the gravesites. It had always been this way. Memories collided with her actions and goals while the sun moved downward. The way the shadows were lengthening lent an almost sinister atmosphere to what was supposed to be a comfortable final resting place for the occupants. There were no other sounds; it was quiet except for her own inner thoughts and feelings and soft crunching of gravel beneath her boots. Even to this day, after all these years, it amazed her how this place, and more specifically the dead people within, got to her. It wasn’t like she was religious or anything. Fuck, if she were to put it that way, she’d say she’d believe in almost anything given what she knew and had learned. Of the occupants, two stood out as having the most profound impact on her then younger self.
“Because I have a plan…” …103, just saying.
After a few minutes she found herself in front of a specific headstone. This was her first destination, and it was of critical importance that she did things correctly. Carefully, so as not to disturb the site, she laid down the case, spread a blanket, and sat down. She had a couple of minutes to prepare and just get her mind on track, so she leaned back and just observed the scene in front of her. The headstone had been maintained. It was clean, still shiny, and spotless. Fresh flowers had been placed in the urn. It was like someone had known she was coming, and it had been this way ever since she started her little project. She had a good idea who was maintaining the gravesite and smiled to herself knowing that person still cared to this day. Reminiscing, she could clearly remember a time which she herself had thought otherwise. In this specific case she had been wrong; clearly. But, then again, she’d been wrong about so many different things.
She looked at the marker and read the inscription and the tears started to fall. After all these years she still had a hole in her heart that had not been filled. She let the tears fall and silently contemplated that day and all the shit that followed; and to be honest, the shit hadn’t stopped. Right now, all she needed to remember is that she had been told to stay strong that day; by someone she trusted. And so, she had eventually learned to deal with the shit and stay focused on the results she wanted to achieve. The long game.
After a while she squeezed her eyes shut, wiped them with the back of the jacket’s sleeve she wore; a parka style weatherproof one she had picked up somewhere in Seattle, a place which she called ‘home’ for the moment. It was a good jacket, not at all like what she used to wear just a couple of years back; in fact, quite the opposite. However, with what she routinely had to do, and where she had to be, having a different look was essential. Even here, especially here, being recognized in this place could throw off years of ass-kicking work, so the jacket suited her needs. Still, she wished she’d brought a hat; January, remember? Her phone pinged and she reached into a pocket to glance at the notification. 10 minutes to go. “Okay, let’s get the ball rolling” she said while canceling the alarm. She started a countdown timer to oversee the final timing. Kneeling on the blanket she opened the case which contained a laptop, some portable lights, and a boxy shaped device with some cable attachments.
She booted the laptop and connected the sensor to its side, untangling the rat’s nest that was about 5m of connector in the process. “…next time I’ll design it with Bluetooth…” she chided herself; After all, like she said she’d done it to herself. While she waited for her computer to finish booting, she reached into her bag for her camera, then got up and positioned the light around the back of the headstone. This was the same camera she’d gotten when she had started. A new memory card was the only difference—one for each year she had returned here—keep the variables to a minimum. What applied to the camera equally applied to the place--the headstone specifically; a constant. A thing that didn’t change. Ever.
Leaning over to see the front, she double verified what she already knew, and shivered when she read the engraved date of death.
September 28th, 2008, a little over ten years ago. ‘The day everything began.’ Her body tensed up again and she fought back more tears.
She let out another sigh and took some deep breaths which fogged in the chill air as dusk turned to night. The lighting in place, she looked closely at the back of the headstone to find another inscription, not engraved but in weatherproof marker. The marks she’d left and had seen last year remained, though worn, they were clearly readable. She got out her camera, made sure the location and date setting feature were on, positioned herself to capture the inscriptions, and took the picture; a ‘before’ picture as it were. Then as she had done each other time, she added to the top of the list, and snapped another photo. About 15 seconds later her phone pinged her that the countdown had completed. She started it over for the last time.
“Game time,” she said, and her mind wandered again… ‘Game…ha!’ she thought, then chuckled a little. “Shit! This would have been a seriously messed up video game, who would even buy this crap? Now let’s see if all the blood and tears and fucking math paid off!” It never got old saying that. “Fucking math!” she said it again, at least it raised her spirits. She went back to her laptop and opened up her research program and jotted some notes into her journal. Date, time, temperature, pressure, time of sunset, the positions of a few key stars in the sky, all the shit that everyone expected from the field. She hit record on the app and measurements started scrolling across the screen. It was too fast to read, but that was okay, she’d have plenty of time to analyze the data. She’d have one of the interns do it for her, but this wasn’t something she wanted others to even know about. After all, this was a side project of hers ‘…not grant approved…’ and her actual motivation in pursuing her various degrees, very much unlike other projects her sponsors required. Then she attached the sensor to the back of the headstone and made sure the cable and package didn’t obscure the inscription or otherwise interfere with the site. She looked at the words again from top to bottom…
2018
2017 ◗◖
2016 ◢◤
2015 ◤
The inscriptions, aside from the most recent, each had a symbol next to them. It was something she had thought of to ensure the record was both unique and genuine—something not easily forged ‘…like who could really know what’s in this fucking head?’ Her phone pinged her back into the present once again as it started the final countdown from 10 seconds…
9… 8…7…
She watched the dates carefully
6… 5…4…3…2…1…
Her phone pinged again but she ignored it. Even though she knew this was all being recorded she wanted to see it with her own eyes. She watched as the markings changed, lines added to the list of dates and symbols. The change was neither fast, nor slow. ‘There’s definitely a time component to it.’ she observed all the while experiencing a weird sense of déjà vu. The inscription changed…
2018 🕗 Z + 10
2018
2017 ◤◢ Z + 9
2017 ◗◖
2016 ◘◘ Z + 8
2016 ◢◤
2015 ◙◗ Z + 7
2015 ◤
2013 💀🦋 Z + 5
2008 💔‼ Z
A sense of calm surrounded her as she looked at the list, and then looked again. She had waited 3 years for this piece of the puzzle, and it looked she had it! She got out her camera and took another picture and jotted down some of her more intangible observations. Now she had all the parts she needed from this place. Sure, she had a lot of work to do up North, but like she had learned before, as long as you knew it could be done, that was more than half the battle. She’d have to get back to Seattle for the final piece, but this had been the next step in her project; going from knowledge and theories to active experiments and execution.
She looked at the grave again and remembered who was here; under the headstone--not like she’d forgotten. She knew that it couldn’t be helped… Not now. But maybe someday? She didn’t know.
‘After all, no one can tell the future.’ And that was the concept that kicked off the whole thing. She had, in a roundabout sort of way, bet everything on it.
She shook her head. “Wow! I sure as shit have grown up! This is some heavy stuff!” she said, as she started coiling the cable and placing everything back where it belonged.
“Heh! I even clean up my own… <room>.” she paused. ‘Where did that come from? …Haven’t thought about that in a while…’
Refocusing, she quickly finished getting everything in order and grabbed her pack, case, and blanket. It was getting late and she still had a drive to complete. As she was leaving back down the path she paused and turned to another very familiar headstone; her last place to visit. Her previous excitement disappeared immediately, and tears started rolling. This was always the hardest part. She knew what had happened to her. Oh God she knew! Even today it hurt so bad knowing that something like this could happen in the world. To her… ‘Who does this???’
Rachel Dawn Amber
July 22, 1994
Daughter and Friend
Taken from us April 22, 2013
She lived her life like the brightest flame
May her light shine through all of us forever
“Hey…Rach.” She said quietly.
What disappointed her the most was that there were some things, some events The Plan couldn’t fix. She had known it was a possibility from the beginning and she’d been working on it since a couple of weeks after Rachel had gone missing. But years of data had supported that some shit just had to happen. These events were, in layman’s terms stationary; fixed and unmovable. It was so much more complicated, and it was hard to put it into words people could understand. Why? Damnit! Why did it have to be Rachel?
Logically, she understood and even accepted it. But that was when she was back in her own place. Here though, knowing did nothing to soothe the crushing loss she felt, and it killed her a little bit every time she came back. She’d spent years dealing with this shit and emotions, but when it came to Rachel it was a whole different shitty, depressing, fucked up level altogether. Kneeling beside the grave, she fished out and grasped her necklace, a familiar one, one that she had with her for a long time. It had a pair of bullets attached with a light leather cord; the missing third having long since been quietly put aside in a special place. Because of what happened to her absent Angel…
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to visit you much in the coming years. The pace is picking up.” She told Rachel. She had always tried to keep Rachel updated; talk to her as if she were really listening. Maybe someday she’d hear a reply…
“I’ve got the data and the results now though. And its…” she paused as her voice caught. “…looking good.” Nothing about this whole mess was good.
“I’ll…I’ll visit when this is all done, yeah?” she said as she tried and failed to compose herself. “I still have to save Max and... the others… but…”
She paused and looked directly at the headstone. “Rach… I can’t save you… I want to so badly… but I don’t know how…” Tear drops marking the way, Chloe Elizabeth Price slowly stood, nodded one last time to Rachel, turned and walked back down the path.
‘So messed up…’ she thought as she navigated the path and left the cemetery. Locking the gate once again so everything was as it had been, Chloe got back to the car and kinda just stood there. This visit had been really bad; much worse than any of the past 3 years. But it was all about the data, and her mind kept going back to that very fact. She had trained her mind for years to work with facts and what happened to Rachel was just that. A fact. She thought back to her most recent results and then thought of Rachel again. ‘Can’t. Save. Her.’ She decided it was a good time to breath and took some deep ones; realizing that the cycle in her mind was starting again; she’d been holding her breath since leaving the cemetery. It helped a little; the swirling mass that was her thoughts moved to the back of her mind. She could still feel it, but she could sorta function.
‘Rachel…’ bounced around in her skull. But then ‘…Max…’ made an appearance; almost as if Her Max knew Chloe needed a hand. The thoughts merged; creating an equilibrium that let her at least get some respite. ‘I can save Max’ that’s why she was here.
“Shit! I so don’t want to drive right now,” she muttered after throwing everything back in the trunk. What she really needed was a smoke. That first long pull would get her sorted out for now, and the rest would briefly keep her company as she hit the road, but she didn’t have any. That had been another tradeoff she’d accepted when she had determined her course. She’d had to focus on learning how to do what needed to be done while also not being the person she really was.
Finally, she got into the car and cracked open another energy drink, which wasn’t a smoke by a long shot, yet she knew she still needed to stay awake for the final leg of the trip. She knew once she got to I5, the car could do most of the work. With the nav set, Chloe drove down the dark road, heading first for the edge of town and eventually the interstate.
Chloe drove her way out of Arcadia Bay, possibly for the last time in the foreseeable future, and headed for the route that would take her first to Portland, and then eventually home. Seattle was her destination. She had chosen Seattle for its access to the facilities and education she needed as well as to keep an eye on Max. That, too, had been part of The Plan and now with the new data she had, it could move forward. The trees continued to sweep by her on both sides of the road. There was no other traffic, why would there be? It’s not like anyone is going to be out the day after New Year’s Day with all the hangovers and worse probably still destroying peoples’ willingness to get out of bed. Plus, there wasn’t really anything around besides the trees, occasional Forest Service roads, and rare driveways that lead back to homes. Middle of No Fucking Where, Oregon; that’s where she was. She chided herself a bit. She’d need to get back into her more professional persona the closer she got to civilization.
“But damn it! I’m all alone right now, why can’t I just be myself?” She questioned herself out loud, which was much louder than she had intended. This car was spooky quiet.
The sweep of the trees continued along the winding road as Chloe’s mind wandered yet again.
“So be yourself,” the girl beside her said. Chloe knew that voice.
Without looking, Chloe sighed… “I can’t, it’s not part of The Plan.” Chloe knew if she looked, she’d lose it.
“Is The Plan so important?” Rachel asked, leaning over to watch Chloe’s expression.
“It’s everything. It’s the only way to save her…. To save Max.”
Rachel frowned a bit. “But you don’t even really know her now do you? Why does she even matter?”
Chloe sighed, getting defensive; she’d been over this before, and damn it we’re talking about Max. “No Rach, you’re right. I don’t really know her anymore. But she’s the key to everything.”
“So that’s it? She’s the key. Why is she so important? How do you even know?” Rachel paused, her aggravation growing.
Chloe kept her eyes on the road. “Its… complicated.” The silence was so loud it was deafening. Here it comes…
Rachel’s expression softened; she really hadn’t meant to start an argument. “…So much that you still can’t save me?” and there it was.
Chloe looked over at Her Angel. She’d grown as much as Chloe had but her features were still instantly recognizable. Her Rachel; still long blonde hair, perfect hazel eyes, perfect… well perfect everything. The only item missing was her signature feather earring. It too had been placed safely away. Chloe’s eyes welled as her anguish grew.
“Rach… you know why I can’t. It just doesn’t work that way.” The volume of her voice grew as she admitted her own failure. She could save everyone. Max, Arcadia Bay, everyone. Except Rachel. Never her; Chloe didn’t believe in the no-win scenario, yet she had failed to figure it out.
Concern in those flawless eyes, Rachel leaned into Chloe’s shoulder bringing a bit of calm to her otherwise stricken friend.
“Sorry,” she said quietly. “I know, really… I know it’s not something you can control.” Rachel thought a moment. Then perked up, a bit of enthusiasm in her voice. “So… let’s try something else. What have you done? Is there anything new?”
Chloe leaned her head against Rachel’s. “Well, the experiment seems to be a success. It looks like we can change what happens in time streams. I won’t know for sure until I get back home.”
Rachel thought about this for a moment. “And how does that help us?”
“It means that we can send messages down to earlier in time. It means we can communicate with our earlier selves.”
“So texting, yeah? Texting through time? Chloe, that’s genius!”
“It is, or… uhm, it’s not really that simple, but at least that’s what the data says. There’s still a lot of work to do.”
“How does this help with our plan?”
“Well, if we can talk to our earlier selves, we can correct problems…” Chloe hesitated; shit…
“…Like me dying?” there it was for the second time.
“Rach… you know that I …”
“Sorry. No really, I am… It’s just…”
Chloe tried again to find the words. “…Rach… I miss you so much.”
“Chloe… I shouldn’t have said that.” Rachel thought for a moment. “I do wish I could change what I did… and make it better… to be with you away from The Bay… But it’s not what I meant. Chloe…?”
“…Yeah?”
“Chloe… you really need to watch the road…”
Chloe’s attention snapped back to reality as the on ramp to the interstate approached and she had somehow drifted, just as her mind had, onto the oncoming lane. Luckily there still was no traffic, so she quickly corrected and turned the corner; maybe just a bit too fast, but the car held on. Rounding the bend and merging with that same lack of traffic, a thought crossed Chloe’s mind. ‘I wonder where I would have ended up if she hadn’t said anything?’ The car took care of the rest of the drive to Seattle.
After what to Chloe’s tired mind seemed like hours, no, really it had been hours in fact – Chloe pulled up next to the shabby looking but decent enough low-rise apartment building where she rented. It was very early in the morning so no one was about, even the buses were done for the day, and thus she could park street side with little trouble and walk across. The caffeine in her system had finally given up the battle so it took her some minutes to grab the gear and tote it up the first flight of stairs.
Tired but happy it wasn’t six flights, she arrived at the end of the hallway to a stout, darkly painted door. ‘Door… Home...’ she thought, as she somehow managed to unlock the entrance. She dragged herself into the apartment and with a kick closed the door and literally dropped everything she was carrying. She’d been away for just over three days with about five hours of sleep. To Chloe the only thing she could think of was sleep, and with just that thought her endurance faded and it became even harder to function.
‘Fuck everything…’
She moved into the only bedroom and fell face first onto the bed. Chloe may have remained awake for all of ten seconds.
January 3rd, 2018
It was a bright and sunny Wednesday morning. The sun slanted through Chloe’s blinds at just the right angle, well right would have been the correct word if not for the fact that its target really hadn’t wanted to wake up. Chloe stirred and turned away from the laser beam in her eyes; burying her face under the pillows. She seemed to fall back to sleep yet the damage had been done by the incessant brilliance that filled the room. True, it was still too-damn-early-o’clock, but nevertheless Chloe slowly dug herself out of the bed and blearily recognized her surroundings--she was home in her apartment and that, at least, was a good first step for whatever the day would bring. She laid awake not really willing to move, but just to exist; just for a little bit longer. Naturally it was at that moment her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten since early yesterday morning; her only other sustenance had been the energy drinks—the cans of which were still rattling around somewhere in the rental’s foot wells. Chloe’s mind started to process. Food meant she had to get up. Getting up meant she had to get out of bed and get all her normal routines completed.
Never a ‘morning person,’ one plus one failed miserably to get to two, yet Chloe nonetheless extracted herself, became more or less vertical, and proceeded towards the bathroom and a blessedly hot shower; beginning her day. ‘One of the best things about this place,' she thought as the hot water rained down upon her. She’d gotten lucky enough to get an apartment that had been recently renovated and so had unlimited hot water—a far better situation than back home in Arcadia Bay. There was never a need to rush in the shower--all the hot water she would ever need, and she took advantage of every drop of it; whether it be washing, doing her hair, shaving, or just simply standing there under the scalding streams. Awake now, Chloe finally exited and toweled off, wrapping her hair to dry while going about taking care of her teeth and wandering around her room gathering up the clothes of choice for the day. Since it was only the third day of the new year, school and the facilities were closed so she didn’t have any pressure to dress appropriately—casual was the order of the day. Choosing a simple pair of jeans--normal ones not ripped like she used to enjoy—she looked around for a shirt to wear. It was January, so she decided upon a plain tee covered with a red plaid flannel; simple but warm. Socks and her old boots completed her attire.
Now dressed and somewhat ready for the day, Chloe still had to deal with the pile of gear she’d left at the front door. Opening the case, she placed the sensor package on her desk and the portable light into the corner where it would be out of the way until she could return it to the lab. Her laptop and journal went into her bag; on the chance she’d get some time to go over the initial data, maybe she’d look at it while getting coffee. ‘Coffee… and something to eat', she thought as she set the next order of business to attend to; which coincided with another stomach growl. She moved towards the small galley kitchen and peered into the fridge and then the surrounding cabinets. She found nothing, well nothing she’d consider remotely edible, and there hadn’t been any coffee either… ‘NEED COFFEE…’ it was getting higher on Chloe’s priority list. She decided that she’d have to go get some food elsewhere, so she got her jacket and quickly typed a couple of to-do items onto her phone.
Notes:
- COFFEE/FOOD
- Check on Max
- Return rental
- Check the data
- Groceries
With her list completed Chloe left her apartment and headed to the coffee house. The first thing Chloe noticed when she got to the ground level is that the day was crisp but otherwise clear. Being earlier than she normally woke there were only a few people out--most of them were tech-bros in their hipster-ish clothing, all heading down the hilly sidewalks like good little cogs in the machines that were Amazon and the rest of the Pacific Northwest tech industry. She had used to mind the ‘bros when she first moved here; they had all seemed like little duplicates of each other, all with the same mannerisms, clothing, badges, and backpacks. They had been, in her opinion, fake; not genuine but, back then, she’d also had a much darker view of the world in general. What she needed at first had been a model to imitate and so, had used the ‘bros to craft her new persona; thus, Chloe became a ‘bro herself. She had neither the badge, nor the requisite beanie; the former she didn’t need, the later would have been too much of a giveaway—she’d needed to blend in without being recognized; especially by Max. ‘Fit in just fine now…’ she thought.
Having completed her walk, she entered the Starbucks building. This ‘bucks was larger than most of the others and always had more ‘bros gathered doing whatever it is they did. She liked the place because there was always a chance to find a seat, usually in a corner by a power outlet. By some unwritten code, once the ‘bros noticed a seat was taken by one of their own, the spot would be left alone until the person left. She claimed her usual spot and went to order something at the counter. The menu had an innumerable number of hip foods and, fancy hot and cold drinks. She wasn’t interested in fancy per-se, but she was very hungry so decided to order a breakfast panni-style sandwich and an absurdly huge cup of coffee. She paid and awaited her food while sipping her drink and marveled again at the industrial look of the interior. ‘Bucks employees went about their duties; opened raw bags of beans into bins beneath the floor, checked temperatures and pressures, dried, then roasted the beans, and dealt with customers’ orders. ‘All of this to make a cup of coffee… it’s like a science itself.’ She took another couple of sips and eventually her food was delivered so she went back to her spot.
As she ate quietly, she got her laptop and journal out and set them on the table. She plugged the computer into the outlet since she hadn’t remembered to charge it last night; she’d been so tired. The laptop did its thing while Chloe opened her journal and reviewed the first page; something she did every day. This was The Plan, a series of tasks she had set for herself after being convinced it had been needed. It started years ago with a letter she had found in her journal—one she’d never written, but it changed everything:
Hey Chloe,
If you’re reading this – and I’ll never know – you’re in for a shock, but if I know you, and believe me, you and I are more similar than you realize; you’ll get over it. What you need to know right now is listed below; get ready for the ride of your life, literally. Like really seriously I am not shitting you—this is not a God damned fucking drill! Do I have your attention now? Yeah, yeah… I know what you’re thinking, and it begins with the letters W.T.F. so, I want you to consider this, ‘Our pirate ship is sinking, and Long Max Silver is trapped inside.’ Satisfied about who I am? Good. You and I both know what this means. Here’s the thing:
- I am you. Chloe Price. But I am also not exactly you. You’ll see what I mean later.
- I am neither the only Chloe, nor the first one in this project—and we’re all in this together.
- Max is in deep shit and we need to save our best friend and First Mate. I don’t care what your situation is with Max. She left me for Seattle, but even today I’ll always have her back. Get over it.
- Time and space are broken, and it all revolves around Max. There’s a lot of ‘fucking math’ involved but keep reading.
- Keep Max safe always. She has the power and if something happens and she uses it the damage could become critical. And I mean critical as in I'll have to make a whole lifetime's set of new calculations. The additional fucking math headache alone may put me over the edge. So give me a hand and keep her from getting in trouble. Remember it all ties back to Our Max.
- You shouldn’t get too close to Max. Bad Fucking Things will happen if you do. You’ll learn why. It sucks, believe me—I had finally come to grips with my own feelings for Our Max years ago. What about you? Feeling anything for our little hippie? No? Suuuuurrree you're not... If that makes you sleep better, just keep believing that. Again, I know you so don't kid yourself. Anyway, keep a low profile.
- You’re gonna need to get your shit together. If I’m reading this correctly, you’re in a bad spot in your life now. The numbers say something terrible has happened, something unavoidable, but I can’t tell what. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, but bigger things are happening that need your attention. So, grow the fuck up, and do it fast because you have to understand what I know and build on it. That means do anything you can to learn physics, math…all of it. I’m you so I know you can do it and the notes will put you ahead of the game big time.
- Tag! You’re it. You get to do the heavy lifting—hell, I can’t even get out of this wheelchair. I’ve done what I can from here, but my time’s running out… Sorry in advance for this too.
Remember Chloe, Max and us all told each other ‘We’ll always be together. Even when we’re apart.’ Well it’s a little further away than Seattle this time, I’d say, but you’ve got all you need. Get ready to raise the flag Captain Bluebeard, we’re going to pull a ‘Pirate’s Bootleg’ to save Our Max and you’re the one steering the ship. We’re all counting on you. One last thing, Captain and this is important. It’s your ship now, but if you figure you can’t find the right safe harbor, pass the flag onward—we’ll get there if our crew sticks together. Now go get her and keep the wind in your sails.
Chloe Elizabeth “Bluebeard” Price
Captain S.S. Arcadia Bay – ret.
July 17th, 2016 (Z + 8)
What followed was pages and pages of equations, timelines, diagrams, and ending with a section labeled Captain’s Log. Chloe had read it all hundreds of times over the years with only the exception of the last set of pages which hadn’t been addressed to Chloe at all. Instead the last section was addressed to ‘Our Max.’
Chloe sat there, sipping her coffee and contemplated what she had read for the umpteen-billionth time. This was ‘the shit’ she had been working to correct since she had found her journal only weeks after Rachel disappeared. It had shaped her into a different person than she’d been beforehand, but she supposed that had been the intent of Chloe’s letter to begin with. Now, she was at the next phase of The Plan; the beginning was over, and she thought perhaps she knew enough that she could steer her ship home. The data would tell her what she needed, but for now she wanted to check on Max, whom she knew was close by—Max was always so predictable—well at least to her. Being Max’s watchdog was like Prime Directive shit, but she never minded. ‘She’s still my best friend.’ She got up after finishing her morning meal, packed up, and walked back to the order counter, thinking that if she missed Max, at least she could make sure Max was taken care of.
“Hey, can I place an order for a friend? She’s running a bit late.” She asked the girl behind the register.
“Sure, what can I get for her?”
Chloe pre-ordered and paid for the most expensive coffee drink they had and the same breakfast sandwich she had gotten. It would be perfect.
“Put whatever change is left over on her tab, yeah?” She said.
“What name can I put that under?”
“Max Caulfield. And tell her a friend says ‘Hey.’” The girl nodded and jotted down a note.
Chloe hefted her backpack and casually strolled out the door with the rest of the ‘bros.