Temporal Exploring 101 - Cultural Immersion

II.4 Cartridge's rule

Later that day, back in Sara's apartment, Natty was literally jumping up and down with excitement.

"Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! Really? We are going to publish it?"

"We will have to, since Brandon has seen your calculations," Sara replied soberly.

Together with Natty, she sat down in front of her workstation. "I have downloaded the transcript of the e-board. Now let's see how it copes with deciphering your handwriting."

As they set to work, with Mira hovering in the background and watching, I went to the bathroom to take a shower.

When I came out of the shower, Sara and Natty were still busy with writing up Natty's results. I was happy for Natty, but I also felt a bit envious, if not downright jealous. I had done my spring project with Sara and Mira, but so far no publication had come out of that work. And here was Natty, who had arrived just a few days ago, and she was already writing a paper with my Temporal Instructor. On the other hand, I had not solved anything as important as the Srivenhurst problem, of course. Unlike Natty, who had solved it on the e-board in front of an audience, for crying out loud.

I went to the guest bedroom where Natty and I had been sleeping last night and the night before that one and stretched out on the king-size bed. It sure felt good to have some measure of privacy again, if only for the time it took Sara and Natty to work on that paper they intended to publish. I closed my eyes, making a conscious effort to relax.

The last few weeks at St. Albert's had been fairly stressful, to put it mildly. Trying to blend in at a traditional girls' boarding school, to adapt to all the small rituals and rules, while doing the subtle detective work necessary to investigate the background of my roommate Natalie Fogg, would have have been a daunting task all by itself. But on several occasions I had been faced with outside interventions, perpetrated by what appeared to be explorers or agents from a different temporal era. Needless to say, none of that had been anticipated by my Temporal Instructor, and even if it had, a student on her First Temporal Assignment would not have been the first choice to deal with such challenges. In retrospect I had to consider myself lucky to have come out of all this alive and unharmed.

Of course, there had also been good times for me at St. Albert's. Those were the times I had spent with Natty and Nancy, for the most part. I regarded both of them as my friends, at this point.

And there had been the time I had spent sightseeing in London-that-was. The Swinging London of the Sixties. Which reminded me of Mallory Carmichael and the secret little diversion she had created when I had been just about ready to die from boredom and from the heat on that bus the school had rented to drive us to London.

Mischievous, playful Mallory Carmichael. Her eyes were of a most unusual color,  an eye color I had never seen before: a deep, luminous green, almost turquoise, like pools of light. With her curly, reddish brown hair and those deep green eyes she looked positively stunning.

I vividly remembered the touch of Mallory's finger tips.

At first I had not even known it was her, on the bus. It had to be some unknown girl standing behind me, or so I had thought. Until Mallory had whispered into my ear.

Mallory's warm breath, as she whispered into my ear. Her finger tips working their magic, until ...

Hearing the sudden sound of footsteps close to the bed, I froze.

"No worries, it is just me," Mira said. "I am sorry, Cathy. I did not mean to startle you." She smiled. "Or, you know, interrupt you."

My face was burning.

"No problem. I was just chilling."

"Yeah. Right." Mira grinned. "Anyhow, Sara asked me to fetch you. Apparently, we finally got some significant results from that Deep Search on the Grid."

In the living-room, Sara showed us those findings on the monitor. It was a scan of an ancient newspaper article, including a photograph of a couple of schoolgirls doing hockey practice outside.

The picture was sharp enough that the individual faces of some of the girls could be made out.

"Oh my god! Natty exclaimed. She pointed. "That's you on that photo, Cathy. And Ndemba. And me too."

"You are right," I agreed. "That one on the left here could be Barnett." I frowned. "What does it say in the text, Sara?"

"It reads here: One week after a mysterious fire destroyed the newly-built volleyball hall at St. Albert's Boarding School for Girls, our reporter visited the place to find out how the students and staff of that distinguished institution are coping with the shock and anxiety caused by the incident. On the outside, it appears that ..." She broke off. "Never mind that. What concerns us here is the date and what this tells us."

"It tells us that we will need to go back," I observed. "Natty and I are going to return to St. Albert's."

"Yes, it certainly looks like that," Sara confirmed.

"But I don't want to go back," Natty complained. She frowned. "What happens if we just decide to stay here, in the 23rd century?"

Sara looked at me. "Catherine can explain that to you."

I knew it was a test of sorts, but an easy one.

"Cartridge's rule: you can't change any known facts," I told Natty. "See, there is one single consistent history, and whatever we did and are doing and what we are going to do is part of it. It's just that at any given point in time we have very incomplete knowledge about that one single consistent history. Now, those pictures in the newspaper seem to tell us that we will be back at St. Albert's a week after that fire occurred. If we now refuse to go back there, one possibility would be that something is going to happen that will make us change our minds. Something that's not good, probably. Perhaps something that threatens people whom we like, something that will force us to intervene by returning to St. Albert's."

"Astutely observed, Catherine," Sara replied. "I might add that I myself am loathe to send either you or Natalie back, considering the danger you have already been exposed to at St. Albert's at the hands of the pyrtar and of that other person. I fear that whatever might happen to force our hands in this would have to be a matter of life and death."

"That sounds awful." Natty shuddered. "Still, I wonder how this would work out if either of us, or both of us, suffered a severe accident or maybe even died here. In that case, it would be physically impossible for us to return."

"In that case, chances are that something a bit more improbable will happen," I told her. "Like, two new students might get enrolled at St. Albert's, girls who look so similar to you and me that they could be confused with us when you are looking at that photograph in the newspaper."

"But that's the more improbable variant, right?" Natty sighed. She made a face. "Looks like we really have to return to St. Albert's."

I nodded, unhappily.

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A / N :  Cartridge's rule can be a bummer, right?

As always, I am looking forward to read any comments or observations you may want to add here. Thank you for reading!