Skyline (2 page)

“Whoa,”
Monroe said. His face was wide-open in astonishment, not a single quip at the
ready. “It’s so deep.”

“Just
wait,” Charlotte said, reaching to the astrolabe. She dragged her fingers in a
C, the glass giving her no resistance. Deep within, the astrolabe glowed to
life. The lights pulsed—bright, brighter, brightest—until points of light
glittered everywhere. On Suni’s storefront, on Monroe, Bill, and Leanor’s
faces, and on the clouds above, exactly where the stars were hidden thousands
of light-years away. “The night sky.”

Below
shone the exact time and date: June 23, 2023, 9:07 p.m.

With
a grin, Monroe looked to Bill’s constellation-covered face and touched his
boyfriend’s beard. “My bear,” he said, his fingers stopping at a few dots on
Bill’s pale skin. “Complete with Ursa Minor on his face.”

“It’s
amazing, Charlotte. Leanor,” Bill said. “And Monroe said something about
history?”

Of
course that was what would excite her history-teacher brother. “Yeah. While
Leanor streamlined, I spent months inputting every star chart we found, mapping
it so that you can see the stars as they looked on any night in time. Whether
that’s ten years in the future …” She twisted her fingers forward and the
readout spun forward ten years. “A hundred years in the past …” The date read
1923. “Or even prehistory.” She spun and spun her hand, star lines spinning on
the street, until the readout showed 200 A.D.

Charlotte
squinted across the way, to where Leanor sat. Their gazes met, and Leanor
nodded her permission once more. Charlotte’s heart drummed inside her chest.

Hopefully
it was true that tonight was more of a beginning than an end. That Charlotte
couldn’t get rid of Leanor this easily. She was family, as much as Monroe,
Felix, Charlie, and perhaps Bill were.

When
had that happened?

And
why had Leanor chosen Charlotte in the first place? She’d just been a
technician, but Leanor had still brought her into this secret. Just like she
was bringing Monroe in. Like she was bringing Bill in. Soon, Felix and Charlie
would join them, too. Charlotte would have to trust that Leanor was right about
Bill, as she had been with her.

“Pick
a date, ’Roe,” Charlotte whispered. Leanor had removed Charlotte’s
crayon-scribbled list, but that didn’t matter. All of history rested in
Monroe’s head, always bubbling up and out of his mouth. “Any date in history
you’d like to see.”

“Not
the future?” Bill asked, his dark eyebrows high. “I’ve always wondered what
people will see from their flying cars and bubble homes.”

Charlotte’s
eyes darted to Leanor. This was the danger of bringing a sci-fi geek along.

Leanor
laughed. Charlotte found herself relaxing. This was supposed to be
fun
,
she remembered. Not the serious endeavor Charlotte always made it. “For now,”
Leanor said, “let’s stick with what Monroe knows.”

Monroe
frowned, eyes on his lap, ponytail falling over his shoulder. At last he looked
up, face still scrunched inward. “I don’t know. Would it matter what the stars
were like back then? I mean, knowing what the Lenape tribe saw, or what New
Amsterdam saw above them could be cool. But after the city got too bright, no
one would see the stars.”

She
couldn’t correct him; he didn’t understand yet. Her free hand lifted to the
night sky. “Don’t think about the stars.” She let her hand drop, and pointed to
the New Yorkers sitting outside Suni’s bar. Most of them were looking up,
around, turning their hands over as the stars remained everywhere. “Think about
the people, the night, New York City, and we’ll get to see it.”

Monroe
exhaled, lifting his hands, but before they fell, Bill suggested, “September
tenth.”

Charlotte
swiveled her neck, intrigued despite her reservations. “September tenth
when
?”

“2001.”

Charlotte
and Leanor took in a gasp at once, their eyes connecting. Not a date on
Charlotte’s list.

Monroe
smiled. “The day before 9/11. The last day before the city was marred by
disaster.”

“Perfect,”
Leanor whispered.

“Okay.”
There was no need to ask Monroe and Bill to stand elsewhere, to go away. Once
she lifted her hand from the astrolabe, the lights would snap off. In the
sudden darkness, none of the surrounding people would be able to tell what
happened at this table. Anyone watching would be left with the after-image of
stars. Charlotte twisted the lights backward until the readout showed the
correct day. But she chose daytime, not the night. She stood and held the orb
out. “Touch my arm guys. And just watch.”

After
a moment’s hesitation and a shared look of confusion, the men stood and gripped
her arm. Still holding the astrolabe in her left hand, Charlotte released her
right hand from the top.

The
lights within the ball blazed, spun around, growing even brighter, snapping
back to their initial position. And when the lights finished spinning, their
surroundings
spun.

Ghostly
people sped through them and the sun sparked back up in the sky, like it had
been there all along. Soon it crashed back down, leaving them in darkness.
Everything moved backward, boats slid rudder-forward, leaving the river glassy
and calm. The sun rose in the west and set in the east over and over, speeding
up from a strobe to a blurred line.

With
a bright white flash, the Mid River filled in with streets and skyscrapers.
Some amid construction unbuilt themselves as the sun flashed around, leaving
nothing but empty lots.

Still,
the city kept moving at a breakneck pace, buildings vanishing or appearing at
seeming random until it slowed to a stop. The sun rested to the east.

Morning.

A
woman in a crisp suit walked by, a paper-wrapped bagel in hand. A bicyclist
sped past, dodging through traffic. No one noticed the three people who had
suddenly appeared.

“Where?”
Bill tried.

Monroe
followed with, “How?”

But
Charlotte shook her head. “Those aren’t the right questions.” She couldn’t help
her growing grin. “You mean
when
.”

“What?”
Bill and Monroe said together.

Instead
of answering, Charlotte lifted her hand, up from the streets, past her
astrolabe, past the nearby buildings, through a crack, to two identical
skyscrapers in the distance.

The
World Trade Center standing tall before New York’s skyline was marred for the first
time.

CHAPTER TWO

For
a long minute, two, three, the men were silent. Charlotte looked on, her heart
swelling. Monroe’s eyes wouldn’t stop moving. Bill’s jaw slowly fell lower and
lower. Her plan was working.

“This
… This …” Bill sputtered.

“What
is this?” Monroe asked again. “Like, a hologram? A projection?”

“Nope.”
Charlotte strode away from them, toward the building that would one day,
twenty-two years from now, be Suni’s bar. “We’re here.”

“And
here is … ?” Bill said.

Monroe
squinted at her. His voice shuddered as he asked, “Time travel?”

Charlotte’s
grin grew, and she nodded.

Monroe
exhaled a breath of surprise. She’d never seen him speechless, but as his grin
grew, she could tell that moment was over. “The astrolabe can fucking
time
travel
?” He slugged her. “And you didn’t fucking tell me?” He threw another
punch, but this time Charlotte dodged, grabbed his fist. Held it and stared
into his glimmering eyes. “This is fucking
incredible
, Char!”

“T-time
travel?” Bill’s eyes widened, but he couldn’t tear them from the World Trade
Center in the distance.

Leanor
had been right to let him come along. The only people who would appreciate the
device more than the technicians who’d created it stood before her: a historian
and a sci-fi geek.

Had
Leanor told Monroe to invite Bill? Behind Charlotte’s back?

Charlotte
blinked the thought away.

But
Leanor hadn’t been surprised by his presence.

“We
shouldn’t be here,” Bill said, at last turning his head and body away from the
identical towers. “Time travel, the butterfly effect, every moment here is like
a ticking time bomb.”

Monroe
stretched his lips into a wide smile, every one of his perfect teeth visible.
“Time bomb, I like that.”

“I’m
serious
,” Bill said. He reached a hand out to the astrolabe, dark now
but still in Charlotte’s hand. “Haven’t either of you heard of the Heisenberg
Uncertainty Principle? Take us back.”

Charlotte
set the astrolabe into her leather purse. “It’ll be fine, Bill. We’ve come back
hundreds of times, bought items, exchanged cash, even interrupted George
Washington on his way through town.”

“No,
no.” Bill shook his head. “That’s Novikov’s Self-Consistency Principle. But
it’s bullshit, Charlotte. Bullshit.”

Monroe’s
eyes flicked from Bill to Charlotte.

She
and Leanor had traveled so much, but Charlotte had never heard of either of
these people. “But Bill,” she said, “we really have come back hundreds of
times.”

Bill
bit his lip. His gaze turned to the streets: a kid wearing headphones and a
thick iPod, a woman running in a velour jogging suit, a pair of boys with
bleached-blond hair running to school together, massive backpacks on their
backs. The more people that passed, the more Bill’s green eyes glittered.

At
Bill’s silence, Monroe asked his question for a third time. “But
how
,
Char? How is this even possible? I thought it was just a—well, I guess not
normal—astrolabe.”

“I
thought so too,” Charlotte said. “I implemented GPS, historical stars, touch
sensitive glass. Leanor worked on most of the theory, the programming. I didn’t
think anything of it, until I tested a prototype and …” She’d ended up a
thousand years ago. Leanor had retrieved her and explained everything. From
then on, knowing what they were building, Charlotte fell into her work.

“That
was a year ago,” Monroe said.

Charlotte
frowned, then realized how he knew. About a year ago, for the very first time,
she’d cancelled their brother-sister night. But Monroe would forgive her, she
could see. Soon so would Charlie and Felix. They’d see how important an
achievement this was. They’d agree with why Leanor believed this device
important—in the right hands, in the right way, this could showcase history
better than any book. No one would be doomed to repeat the past, unless they
wanted to learn from it. “But now we’re done,” Charlotte reminded him.

“What
else?” Monroe asked. “GPS, stars, touch, that doesn’t sound like much.”

Charlotte
fiddled with a wire necklace Charlie had made her a little over a year ago.
Since the moment she’d learned about the astrolabe’s true purpose, she and
Leanor worked harder than ever, perfecting it, traveling the world and doing
minor tests that couldn’t affect time much. But even though Charlotte had read
through every line of code, she hadn’t been able to comprehend the theory.
“Leanor’s the quantum mechanics expert. I don’t even really understand how that
part works.”

Bill’s
attention snapped from the people of 2001. “What?”

“She’s
smarter than me,” Charlotte said, frowning Bill’s way. Why did that matter? Why
weren’t either of them focusing on where they were?

Bill
crossed his arms over his chest. “If you don’t understand, then who’s to say
what’s really happening? Whether this
is
okay to visit?”

He
shouldn’t even be here.

“I
trust her,” Charlotte said. “With my life. She knows what’s going on, and we’ve
been careful. Never making big changes, never crossing our paths. We don’t want
to do anything that will hurt our world, Bill, whether or not we even can. And
if you think we’ve been reckless, if you’re accusing her …”

Monroe’s
hands were on Charlotte’s shoulders immediately. “Whoa, Char, whoa. He’s not
accusing her of anything.” Monroe shot back a warning glance. “It’s just a
little weird—to time travel and not know how.”

“Or
why,” Bill added.

“Why?”
Charlotte sputtered. “Why are you so resistant to this? I thought … ’Roe, this
is
history
. Right before your eyes!” She gestured to the dirty asphalt,
a classic Mustang driving by, the buildings that didn’t exist in their time
because of the Blast. “We should be
racing
to see the World Trade
Center. And then you can pick a date, any date, and we’ll go. We’ll see it.
Every week, any time. We’ll get to see everything, ’Roe.” She fixed her gaze on
Bill. “And I see your indecision. You want so badly for this to be okay. For this
to be possible. You’re only acting this way,
being ridiculous
, because
you’re desperate to be here. Right? Am I right?”

“Char,
hey …” Monroe rubbed her shoulders, tilting his head to meet her gaze. “We’re
just freaked out, okay? One minute it was nighttime. And now it’s so goddamn
bright.” He shook his head. “We’re freaked. How did
you
act your first
time?”

Time
had degraded, and then she was in a forest. Spinning, terrified, scrambling for
the prototype she’d dropped in surprise. “Freaked.”

“Exactly.”

Bill
stepped forward, his eyebrows low, his lips squished to one side. “It’s a lot.”
He lifted his gaze, his green eyes boring into hers. “Too much, maybe. Magical,
but if it got into the wrong hands?”

“Time
self-corrects,” Charlotte said. “We’ve seen it.”

Bill
shook his head. “Like how the ozone self-corrects? Or how animals just move out
once humans move in? That’s why Novikov is bullshit. If time travel is
possible, then time is malleable, just like our planet, like our lives.” He bit
his lips, his eyes flicking back to the World Trade Center. “We’re here, and I
guess we oughta see it. What we came for. But when we get back, I’m gonna keep
asking questions.”

Monroe
nodded; the two of them followed her to the subway and accepted a token that
would get them through the turnstiles. But they were silent, not gushing over
how prepared she was, how people dressed, what they were reading, or the bulky
headphones wrapped around their heads.

Bill
and Monroe looked around, but they exchanged worried glances even more.

Despite
all of her travel, all of Leanor’s reassurances, could this be dangerous? One
second displaced in time, and already Monroe and Bill were questioning time
travel. Worried about the “wrong hands,” accusing Leanor of being careless,
accusing Charlotte of allowing such a thing to happen.

Charlotte
and Leanor had gone over this. The need for caution, but the need to explore,
too. To experience the past. To learn from it and bring those lessons forward.
To embrace history.

The
train slowed at Cortlandt Street—the stop that would be closed for years after
tomorrow, reconstructing, renovating, reimagining. But still, Charlotte
couldn’t help worry about Leanor, left alone in the future. Did she know what
criticism she’d invited?

Was
time malleable, as Bill said? He knew all the names,
all the theories at the drop of a hat. Did Leanor, too? Or did she never
consider that time would be anything other than self-correcting?

Charlotte
led Monroe and Bill up the steps, to the World Trade Plaza amongst the New Yorkers
ready to get to work, and all thoughts of Leanor vanished.

The
shadow of one of the towers fell on them, blotting out the sun. The plaza was
busy, people moving to and fro, pushing through doors, visiting, working, or
just seeing the once-tallest skyscrapers in the world. A golden ball rested in
a fountain in the center of the plaza, ringed by benches. Businessmen and
-women pushed through the revolving doors they’d flee tomorrow. One by one they
entered, visiting the front desks of either building, talking with one another,
oblivious. Charlotte swallowed, trying to focus. This was history,
unchangeable. She, Monroe, and Bill were here to witness. It was horrible, but
…

Charlotte
tilted her head up from the plaza, away from the central golden orb, following
the metal ridges that led from the World Trade Center’s lower windows to the
sky.

But
there, where a high cloud rested, a plane would fly. It would slam into the
building, a plume of smoke coming out and then another plane … Charlotte
flinched away. Pressed her eyelids shut so tight her vision turned red.

Leanor
had called this time “perfect.” What else had she been wrong about?

Charlotte
pressed the wetness from her cheeks.

“I’m
sorry, Charlotte,” Monroe said. “When Bill suggested, we didn’t know …”

Bill.
How was he taking this? All he’d watched were the people along the way, and now
he must be feeling what Charlotte was. But when her eyelids fluttered open,
sticking slightly from the tears, Bill’s eyes were clear.

His
focus was on a blond girl across the way. She wore a black leather jacket, her
ears pierced with seven ruby earrings. Her jeans were emblazoned with mirrors
in a fashion Charlotte had never seen. She didn’t seem to belong. Was that what
caught Bill’s attention?

But
no, there was sadness in this kid’s eyes, too. Almost as if she knew what was
going to happen, even though she couldn’t.

“Bill?”
Charlotte asked, stepping beside him.

He
turned, his face wide-open. “She just … She appeared out of nowhere,” he said.
“Out of thin air, clutching a metal sphere. Another astrolabe.”

A
high-pitched whine howled inside Charlotte’s head, blotting out Monroe’s
response, the birdsong, the gusting wind.

No.
No, Bill couldn’t be right. Some punk girl couldn’t have an astrolabe. That’d
mean Leanor’s tech got out of control. Or that someone had stolen it, no matter
how safe Leanor claimed to be. Or that Leanor herself had stolen the schematics
and only pretended to invent an astrolabe of her own.

This
was something else. It had to be.

•
• • • • • • • • • • •

Something
…
“Something’s wrong,” Charlotte said. “Something happened. Someone must’ve
stolen the tech or … We should go back. Tell Leanor. See if we can prevent
this.” Even if Leanor sold the tech, some kid with feathered-out, platinum-dyed
hair shouldn’t have one. The astrolabe wasn’t a toy, even if that was what
Charlotte had believed she’d been working on initially.

But
going back, explaining the risks to Leanor … Would that mean Charlotte wouldn’t
be able to travel with Monroe? Would everything come undone? Would Felix and
Charlie arrive minutes later, and she’d never be able to tell them what the
astrolabe could
actually
do?

Charlotte
clenched her fingers together. This girl was going to ruin everything.

“Char?”
Monroe began, but she was storming away—unable to hear his question, his worry,
his warning.

“Who
are you?” Charlotte asked, approaching the kid. Though, as she folded her arms
over her chest, Charlotte saw the beginnings of crow’s-feet beside the woman’s
hawk eyes.

The
sadness behind this woman’s irises vanished. “Who am I? I’m no one. Run along;
go about your day like it’s nothing.”

Charlotte
gritted her teeth together. “This isn’t
my
day.”

“Not
…” The woman’s eyes trailed their way down Charlotte’s white blouse, following
the strap of her leather purse to where the purse bulged with the weight of the
astrolabe. “Oh, fuck, no,” she said in a whispery inhale, and took a step
backward. “No, no, you get the fuck away from me. I don’t know who you are, or
how you found me, but go. I didn’t change this city just to be stopped
now
.
Tell them you failed; tell them whatever the fuck you have to. Live your life
and never come back, never come for me again.”