The Future People Read online

question-totally out of the question! Never in a million years!"

  "Then I shall take you both to the year 1,000,001 and you can be married."

  "I'm thirteen years old! Thirteen-year-olds don't get married! And what makes you think I'd want to even be with old Smelly Belly here, anyway?" She paused long enough to cast a baleful stare at Kenneth.

  Kenneth rolled his eyes. He snorted derisively. "Uh-uh. You gotta be kidding me. No way in hell am I marrying her." He paused, letting his annoyance at the situation subside. Then he suddenly spoke again, his voice tinged with resignation. "Look, I can't say I like the idea much either. I don't want to be around her any more than I need to. Even I know there's not much of a choice. But we might as we look for this dude or whatever. We've got nothing better to do." He paused again before changing the subject.

  Anything to stop talking about marriage.

  "Hey, you don't have video games here, do you?"

  "Ah, no, I'm afraid we don't."

  Savannah fumed, "And I bet you don't have horses either. You know, the ones you can ride?"

  "Horses? I, um-"

  "Never mind," Kenneth said. Then, turning to Savannah, he spoke in a softer, more conciliatory tone. "Look, can you stop insulting me? We don't like each other. I get that. That won't change. At least for now let's do this as fast as we can so we can back to our old lives. Okay?"

  Savannah didn't answer. She turned to Unquill. "Can you take us back if we finish the job before the time expires?"

  "Not I-but the Temporal Constabulary can. The answer to your question is yes. You can be returned to your own time whenever it is convenient to do so. All that is required is to make a request with the agency, which they will grant. Then, everything takes care of itself."

  "Hmph, fine. Whatever," Savannah said. "Let's just do it then. I'm tired of arguing. Where do we begin?"

  "With sleep," Unquill touched each of them at the nape of the neck. Kenneth felt his consciousness suddenly deserting him. "I'm afraid that I can't let you stay awake too long on the first day. The strain of-"

  DAY TWO

  ONE

  IN ANOTHER ROOM, not far from where Kenneth and Savannah had slept, a cavernous door opened up before them.

  A large, black pillar dominated the room from its position in the center. Energy pulsated through the pillar as it thrummed out a rhythm. Cords as wide as Kenneth's bed ran along the floor, all leading to the ebony obelisk. The resultant effect made the room look like it had several unmarked speed bumps designed into it. Four work stations, each containing a metal seat, a keyboard and screen, encircled the imposing black structure. Kenneth noted that even after the passage of so many years, the basic design of the keyboard hadn't changed. It even retained the INS key that he'd ripped out with a pair of pliers from his personal laptop.

  Kenneth, Savannah and Unquill stood before a large computer screen. Unquill explained that the screen, larger than the chalkboards at school, represented access points to the planet's central computer. The computer, the only one in the world, had access points at every Temporal Constabulary station throughout the planet. There were over one hundred thousand of those, Unquill said.

  The physical hard drive wasn't located in any one place. Instead, each component connected with one another so that the system as a whole only worked when their version of the internet-as Kenneth understood it-functioned properly. Since there hadn't been a malfunction in one hundred eighty-four years, Unquill felt confident about using it for their purpose.

  Images came and went so fast that Kenneth could not keep up with them all. He tried focusing on several in particular, only to have them disappear out of sight before he could discover what they were.

  He finally was able to discern a metal object that resembled a rickshaw, a woman sleeping on a couch, and a fluttering red bird. No matter how long he stared at the images, he couldn't see any pattern that might lead to Hinjo.

  After several moments, he said, "What is all this?"

  Unquill did not take his eyes off the screen. "I am searching for Hinjo, just as I have searched many times before. I entered his name into the search field, just as you saw. The computer brings up all the relevant results that might lead to his location. I have spent a total of three hundred fourteen hours in front of this screen, watching all the results. I have not yet seen anything that would provide a clue about him."

  Kenneth sighed. "And you entered the same keyword into the field every time?"

  "Why yes," Unquill said. "Naturally. Since the computer is constantly acquiring new data, one must repeat a search to account for new results."

  "Why don't you try something like religion?" Savannah said. She looked at the floor, unable to keep her eyes upon the screen.

  Unquill beamed. "Ahh, yes, I had not considered that. A different keyword. Yes, it's possible. I will try it."

  A few moments passed. Kenneth frowned. He saw the images clearer this time: the metal rickshaw, the woman, the bird. He said, "Try another search. Look up, oh, I don't know, barn owl."

  "I don't see what that has to do with Hinjo, but I will try it." Unquill said, resetting the search and entering the keywords.

  With the third search, Kenneth saw the same procession of results. They came in the exact same order every time. "Unquill, I think your computer has a problem."

  Unquill didn't say anything at first. He kept staring at the screen. At last he said, "I think you may be right. Oh dear, this is rather a bother."

  "I don't understand what's going on," Savannah huffed. "It's just a lot of random stuff up there, right?"

  Unquill paused for a moment, considering how best to reply. He shifted from one foot to the other. Having opted not to sit down in the chair, Unquill now gave Kenneth the impression of someone made uncomfortable by a person half his size.

  "These images are anything but random. Terrible truncations, I think-well, the computer is returning the same search results for every query I enter."

  "What does that mean?" Savannah asked.

  Unquill massaged his right wrist with his left hand. He replied, "We can't rely on the computer. Or, at the very least, we'll have to fix the computer before we can get any information about Hinjo Junta."

  Savannah said, "Can't we just hire a private eye?"

  Kenneth had to keep himself from laughing.

  "Eh? I don't see how a private ocular attachment could assist in this situation."

  Savannah sighed. "I guess not."

  Kenneth spoke up. "How long does it take to repair the computer?"

  "Oh dear, oh dear, I really can't say for certain. I can't even say for certain where the problem is. It could be anywhere." Unquill paused, lost in thought.

  Suddenly, he brightened.

  "Indeed, it might not even be the computer that's giving us the same information over and over to us. It might be one of the access points. Oh, I hadn't thought of that. Yes, that's possible. I'll check."

  Kenneth and Savannah looked at each other for a moment.

  Over one hundred thousand of them.

  Unquill was going to check them.

  Savannah took a step back.

  TWO

  KENNETH HAD NEVER considered patience a virtue.

  Even during gym class, where he typically sat out all the class activities, he had always been restless, waiting for the period to end.

  At first, it had been a game for him to fight with Mrs. Wren about whether he'd do anything other than twiddle his thumbs in a corner somewhere. Some days, he'd even show up to gym class in his jeans, not having changed into his workout gear. After a while, Mrs. Wren came to ignore him. When that happened, Kenneth had always been left on his own to pass the time in whatever way he could.

  Sitting alone in the access room reminded Kenneth of those class periods.

  He had to watch while Unquill fiddled about with the computer. Unquill's hands flew about the keyboard while he whispered to himself under his breath. Savannah had sat down on one of the wide power cords
under the floor, away from Kenneth. He glanced at her once, just long enough to see that her eyes drooped. He didn't want to look too long, lest she sense his gaze.

  He thought about what Unquill had said about marriage. His own parents had separated for two months when he was eleven. Kenneth had blamed himself. He remembered distinctly how it felt to walk on eggshells every minute while at home, lest the slightest word cause a blow-up.

  He had decided one day that, if all he could expect as a result of attempting conversation was irascibility, he just wouldn't say anything.

  Before long, he found himself staying quiet in class, even when called upon. He had been brought into the guidance counselor's office. The man with the off-color brown mustache smelled of wood shavings.

  Kenneth had confessed everything right then and there.

  The dam had burst.

  He hadn't known that the counselor's report would reach his parents. If he had, he wouldn't have said anything.

  Soon afterward, his parents got back together. Three months passed before Kenneth felt safe enough to ask for the salt at the dinner table.

  In Kenneth's opinion, marriage had caused all those negative consequences. He didn't think he would ever get married, even if that meant learning how to cook his own meals.

  Moreover, he couldn't see himself getting married to Savannah, a girl he barely knew.

  He wondered why she had come to him that day.

  She hadn't ever done so before.

  They shared gym and English class. In gym class, she had always been aloof, separate from everyone. In English class, her favorite subject, she always had her hand in the air. Kenneth