Space-Time of Death: an Al Squires of the Protectorate Novel

Ch.8.1: Don't Hate the Player, Haight-Ashbury!

Like we did the first time, the group got into a circle around the same spot as before- between the Transmats and the Bullpen proper- as Lady Lane punched in the coordinates into her Time-Sphere. Besides the fact that we changed our clothes, the only thing that was different was that the light emanating out of the Time-Sphere was a purplish color. As was the flash of light that engulfed us. From what I gathered this showed that we were going to enter that Earth's Still while it's somewhere between its Indigo and Violet phases. And sure enough, as soon as we regained our senses, we saw that everything was a purplish hue. Since we were traveling further down this particular Earth's Timeline, I figured that the Still there would be a different color.

Another thing that we noticed when we came to our senses was that we were out in the open. In what seemed like a public park. In daytime. Right between two drum circles!

"Que es esto?" Jorge asked as he looked around as soon as it was safe to do so. "We are in the middle of a public area! Is the agent stationed here loco? This is against protocol! We must go somewhere else before entering Realtime."

"Oh, don't worry about it so much," Lady Lane said as she placed her Sphere in the hemp satchel, she was carrying over her shoulder. "These dears won't be bothered by us if we just appear out of nowhere. I've done it before a couple of times. Most of them will just write off our sudden appearance as them taking too much acid or other psychotropics."

Jorge gave her. "What of those who are not on these psychotropics?" he asked her, fore finger raised. "Suppose we are seen by natives with sober eyes and minds? Or what if we are picked up appearing on cameras? What then, ah?"

"If we're seen by a native who isn't under the influence of drugs or alcohol," Lady Lane replied evenly, "they will simply ignore it, thinking that they're just seeing things rather than thinking about the alternative."

Rozz snapped his fingers, than pointed at her. "The same way the mortals on 'Bewitched' did, right, Duchess?" he asked, using that little nickname for the second time. Lady Lane didn't seem to mind.

"Very good, Agent Rozzorich," Lady Lane said with a smile and a nod. "Exactly. I'm surprised that you watched a show like 'Bewitched.'"

"Are you kiddin'?" he said with a chuckle. "That show was a big hit in Hell. Those witches might not have been Red Witches, but it was fun seein' make that ponce Darrin suffer. Dumb nonce had his head so far up his tradesmen's entrance, that he couldn't see that being married to a witch was actually—"

Lady Lane raised her hand. "Thank you, Agent Rozzorich," she said politely. "I got the gist." She then turned her attention back to Jorge. "And if we are caught on film," she added, "the technology isn't as advanced; we'd be long gone before anyone who catches us on film can develop the evidence. And I'm sure that the agents assigned here can handle that if that be the case. I doubt that they wouldn't have chosen this place as a rendezvous point if they didn't know what they haven't accounted for every eventuality."

Jorge let out an aggravated groan. "Fine," he said with rolled eyes. "But I am doing this under protest."

"Duly noted," Lady Lane said, dryly. "Now," she added as she pulled out her Temporalmanac from her bag, "shall we brush up on our history before proceeding?" She gave him a sly smirk. "It would be rather gauche to do this after we enter real-time."

Jorge nodded sharply as he pulled out his own Temporalmanac, along with the others.

Lady Lane looked at the members of TP. "It'll just take a moment," she said to us as both she and her colleagues moved a few steps away from us. Just like in the alley in 1978, they opened their books, whispered something (this time it was '1960's America; Specifically, San Francisco'), and each of them stared at their own book for the longest of times; the knowledge of an entire decade being temporarily uploaded into each of their brains in a matter of moments.