Flyover City! A Novel (with Superheroes)

24. Life on Hold

Can't sleep. Can't even think of sleeping. I just keep going over the conversation in my head, trying to recall it, word for word.

I'm alone. I told Gwen that I'm not feeling well. On the very night that she was going to "bring some stuff over", in effect, starting to move her things in. Just great. Great timing, really. Now, I'm the bad guy.

But I'm not really, right? Not yet, anyway.

I page through my copy of Malphysics for Dummies, re-reading the chapter on time paradoxes. No answers, just more questions: does time travel prove there's no such thing as fate? or: if somebody changes history, was history predestined to play out like that in the first place? Blah blah blah.

It could be, like, an alternate timeline, couldn't it? Or maybe a "mirror universe", where the Nazis won World War II, and Alphamale is a brutal dictator, and I'm... still a louse.

On the Agency's website, the "Hypeport Anomalies" aren't even on the front page anymore. They're old news, pushed off by the Druid's attack on Big Ben. They've "been assured that Vaig Industries should have all their technical issues fixed by the end of third quarter". Well, thank goodness that's settled. The anomalies have been officially classified as "low bandwidth", not strong enough to allow anyone to physically slip through into the timestream.

And then there's this -

"At this time, there's no evidence that the anomalies can be used to transmit willful, direct messages to other eras, but we will continue to monitor the situation."

That seals it. I scroll down to the very bottom of the screen and dial the number.

The male voice is articulate and deliberate, but purposely not too friendly, to avoid sounding ridiculous.

Thank you for calling the Agency's 24 hour, International Emergency Hotline! You are hearby advised that any knowingly fraudulent calls or claims made to this line are a Federal offence, punishable by international law. Your call may be recorded for review purposes. If you are in need of immediate assistance, and your emergency can be handled by local authorities, please hang up and dial 911. For all media inquiries, visit our website. Para espanol, oprima numero dos...

Fucking seriously? Good thing I don't have a giant gorilla trying to break through my window.

Please listen closely to the following options, and state aloud your answer. Are you calling about: a natural disaster? A crime in progress? A UFO sighting? A terrorist attack? A kaiju attack? A giant mecha attack? A space/time anomaly?

"Yes, damnit...!" I catch myself too late.

I'm sorry you're having trouble. Please repeat your selection -

"Space/time anomaly," I say, trying to match the tempo of the automated voice.

On a scale of one through ten, how immediate do you perceive the threat to be?

Well, that just depends, doesn't it? "Seven and three quarters," I say, enunciating every word.

Is this threat directly towards you, or is it -

"Customer service." I bark. "Please. Can I just talk to somebody?"

I am the Agency's Virtual Intelligence unit - AVI. I'm sure I'll be able to help you with your concerns today. Please explain the nature of your emergency.

I just sit for second, expecting to be transferred before it sinks in. "Wait a minute. I'm supposed to talk to... you?"

I'm sure I'll be able to help you out. What is your name and location?

"Joel Wyatt, Denv - wait, I could have just been talking to you, all this all this time?"

Yes, sir. Please re-state your location.

"Denver, Colorado. So, you can actually - engage with me, in a conversation, over the phone?" I don't know where I'm going with this. I'm over-tired, I guess. But I mean, come on.

Yes, sir.

"So what's up with all that automated phone tree crap?"

I am programmed to follow a particular set of protocols, in order to best address citizen concerns.

"Who wrote 'I think, therefore I am'"?

Rene Descartes, in part one of "Principals of Philosophy". Please explain the nature of your emergency.

"Right. And all that 'how may I help you' stuff, that doesn't bother -"

Sir, may I remind you that tying up the Agency's emergency hotline is a federal-

"Okay, okay," no reason to push it.

After I explained everything that happened this morning, AVI said I'm sure I'll be able to help you out with that today. Like I've never used that one, myself.

According to the research from the Agency's Temporal Division, the anomalies are incapable of the sort of effects you're stating.

"Well, it happened."

Back to automated recording-mode: You do realize that making changes to the existing timeline is a crime?

"What? Are you serious? It wasn't... me." The voice knew what I meant.

Would you please hold while I do some additional research into the matter?

Five; ten minutes pass. It was the Descartes thing. I swear - swear - I heard a change in his tone. The line comes alive:

Mr. Wyatt?

"Yo."

Thank you for holding. Because this is our first indication of a problem, I'm going to send a note to our Temporal Unit, for further research.

"So, what... is somebody going to contact me?"

Possibly, if there are any further questions.

"And... that's it?"

Unless you have anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Wyatt.

I don't know what got into me. It's been a weird, weird day. Time travel, sentient answering machines. I guess I just lost my head. "Yeah, all right, I'll tell you what else, AVI. You can get this into your 'practically intelligent' processors: I know that Lilywatt is in town, on assignment. And I know that Alton Vaig has to have something to do with it. Unless she meets me, tomorrow night at 11 p.m. - I'm going to go to the powerazzi with everything I know."

I give the address of the most out of the way bar I can think of, and slam down the phone. And that is that.

It was a risky move, for sure, acting like I know something I most definitely don't. But it was the only way to be sure that I could meet with Lilywatt, face to face, and get to the bottom of this.

Unless, of course, the Argo Jet is hovering above my apartment in a few hours, to take me away in handcuffs.