malfunction can occur, and data can be lost.”
“Oh.” I kind of understood. He’d spelled it out to me in plain language, but still, hearing about time and data made my brain ache a little. Now I felt the same way William had when he’d been forced to enter all those book numbers. “So, we can go back, just like opening up a file here in the TRS-80, and use the information, or manipulate it as we see fit?”
“Yes, Emma. And it’s all laid out, so when one file is changed, the rest don’t have to change too.” He saw the confused expression on my face. “Ever hear of the butterfly effect? Someone goes back in time and kills a butterfly; the future is destroyed. In reality, time isn’t really like that. It has different files, separate texts for different eras, events, years, decades. It’s not all on one file. You see? We can go back and kill the butterfly, so to speak, without changing everything in the future. Just certain parts. The parts we choose.”
“And the butterfly is Marcus,” I said, hands clenching. I wanted to be the one to smack him down, to break his miserable wings the same way he’d broken Jesse’s.
“Yes. You could say that.” He kept staring at me. A slow grin spread across his face, happy I’d kept up with his theory.
“What about the malfunction?” I asked.
His grin faded. “Well that, that’s something I haven’t quite figured out yet. Files have a funny way of getting lost. I’m worried time can’t remember everything. I mean, I have a certain amount of power with the memories I’ve stored, but even then, there’s a danger.”
“Okay, I don’t want to hear about this part.” I shot up from the stool, hands in my jacket pockets. “Don’t try to scare me out of going, Will.”
“I’m not. Honest.”
“And we’re doing this tonight, remember? No excuses.”
“Tonight.”
“All right, then,” I said, sitting back down. “Tell me more about time and data, and this,” I patted it on its plastic cubed brain, “TRS-80. Because I’m still a little confused. But leave out the malfunction part, ’cause I don’t wanna know.”
¤ ¤ ¤
A few minutes after three a.m., we left the library and bundled ourselves against the arctic air which seemed to be making a permanent residence in Penn Peak. Last night’s snow had managed to turn campus into a brilliant landscape of white marshmallow drifts, but some of it had melted and left slippery patches underneath. William reached out to steady me when I nearly slipped on the path. I gave a laugh. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”
He stared ahead. “Are you nervous about tonight?”
“No,” I answered, though it was a lie.
Our plans were as such: Go home, sleep all day, eat a quick dinner, and then get dressed in the clothes we’d picked out. Yes, that was the fun part. I’d been forced to read every LIFE and Look so I could learn the hairstyles, the language, the products, the world as it was in 1956—the year we were going back. We would enter Springvale before the Seekers’ cult had turned William into a ghost, before they’d killed his sister by running her over. It would be summer, not this brittle cold we shielded ourselves from with scarves and heavy coats.
I glanced over at him and smiled. “We’ll be warm, at least.”
He stopped in his tracks. “Emma, I’ve been thinking. There’s something you should understand, about me, in case something goes wrong. I’ve never told you because I thought I’d never need to, however—”
“Are you trying to scare me again?” I asked, cutting him off. “Because if you are, it’s not going to work. I am going. Tonight. End of story.”
“But, Emma—”
“No. Stop trying to frighten me out of this.” It was freezing, and the car was only a couple of feet away. “Are you done, then? This wind is evil.”
He sighed. “Yes, I’m done.”
“Good.”
We reached the car and rushed to get in. William dug in his pocket for the keys and inserted
“Oh.” I kind of understood. He’d spelled it out to me in plain language, but still, hearing about time and data made my brain ache a little. Now I felt the same way William had when he’d been forced to enter all those book numbers. “So, we can go back, just like opening up a file here in the TRS-80, and use the information, or manipulate it as we see fit?”
“Yes, Emma. And it’s all laid out, so when one file is changed, the rest don’t have to change too.” He saw the confused expression on my face. “Ever hear of the butterfly effect? Someone goes back in time and kills a butterfly; the future is destroyed. In reality, time isn’t really like that. It has different files, separate texts for different eras, events, years, decades. It’s not all on one file. You see? We can go back and kill the butterfly, so to speak, without changing everything in the future. Just certain parts. The parts we choose.”
“And the butterfly is Marcus,” I said, hands clenching. I wanted to be the one to smack him down, to break his miserable wings the same way he’d broken Jesse’s.
“Yes. You could say that.” He kept staring at me. A slow grin spread across his face, happy I’d kept up with his theory.
“What about the malfunction?” I asked.
His grin faded. “Well that, that’s something I haven’t quite figured out yet. Files have a funny way of getting lost. I’m worried time can’t remember everything. I mean, I have a certain amount of power with the memories I’ve stored, but even then, there’s a danger.”
“Okay, I don’t want to hear about this part.” I shot up from the stool, hands in my jacket pockets. “Don’t try to scare me out of going, Will.”
“I’m not. Honest.”
“And we’re doing this tonight, remember? No excuses.”
“Tonight.”
“All right, then,” I said, sitting back down. “Tell me more about time and data, and this,” I patted it on its plastic cubed brain, “TRS-80. Because I’m still a little confused. But leave out the malfunction part, ’cause I don’t wanna know.”
¤ ¤ ¤
A few minutes after three a.m., we left the library and bundled ourselves against the arctic air which seemed to be making a permanent residence in Penn Peak. Last night’s snow had managed to turn campus into a brilliant landscape of white marshmallow drifts, but some of it had melted and left slippery patches underneath. William reached out to steady me when I nearly slipped on the path. I gave a laugh. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”
He stared ahead. “Are you nervous about tonight?”
“No,” I answered, though it was a lie.
Our plans were as such: Go home, sleep all day, eat a quick dinner, and then get dressed in the clothes we’d picked out. Yes, that was the fun part. I’d been forced to read every LIFE and Look so I could learn the hairstyles, the language, the products, the world as it was in 1956—the year we were going back. We would enter Springvale before the Seekers’ cult had turned William into a ghost, before they’d killed his sister by running her over. It would be summer, not this brittle cold we shielded ourselves from with scarves and heavy coats.
I glanced over at him and smiled. “We’ll be warm, at least.”
He stopped in his tracks. “Emma, I’ve been thinking. There’s something you should understand, about me, in case something goes wrong. I’ve never told you because I thought I’d never need to, however—”
“Are you trying to scare me again?” I asked, cutting him off. “Because if you are, it’s not going to work. I am going. Tonight. End of story.”
“But, Emma—”
“No. Stop trying to frighten me out of this.” It was freezing, and the car was only a couple of feet away. “Are you done, then? This wind is evil.”
He sighed. “Yes, I’m done.”
“Good.”
We reached the car and rushed to get in. William dug in his pocket for the keys and inserted
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