Yanked (David Brin's Out of Time Book 1), Page 3

  “I can’t authorize even a temporary job. Anyway, how old are you?”

  “Fourteen,” Sharon said.

  “You can’t get working papers in this state until you’re fifteen.”

  “I know but―”

  “No ‘buts.’ And no job.” He picked up a pile of overdue notices.

  Sharon headed home. Mrs. Staines liked her and might have bent the rules for her. This guy wouldn’t. That was the way it was.

  She broke into a run. It had finally started to snow, and she ran through huge white flakes like soft doilies. In her bedroom, Tara stood whimpering in the porta-crib, her diaper wet. Sharon’s mother snored in the next room.

  Sharon changed the baby, dressed her, and fed her. Then she put on her coat and Tara’s to go out. The baby should have some fresh air, but then what? How was Sharon going to take care of her and also have her own life?

  There seemed no answer. Despair washed over Sharon. She wouldn’t give up, but at the moment, there seemed no way out. Oh, if she could just tuck Tara safe into herself and take her everywhere without being bothered by having her. If only Tara could be sort of like a baby kangaroo, safe inside a sac while the mother kangaroo got to go about having a life.

  Almost without knowing it, Sharon had buttoned her coat around the baby, so that only the top of Tara’s blond head showed under Sharon’s chin. The baby giggled; she thought it was a game.

  Sharon walked numbly out of the kitchen onto the glassed-in porch. She’d moved all the baby stuff Johnna had left to the upstairs, but the porch was still full of junk: a lawnmower that didn’t work. A box of Christmas tree ornaments nobody’d used for two years. An old baseball glove. Two battered folding chairs. And something else.

  It spun in the corner, a sort of blue box. No, a blue light. How did it get on the porch? As Sharon stared, the light began to deepen and spin until it turned into a tunnel leading sharply downward. And then the tunnel moved from the corner of the porch toward Sharon.

  “Sharon Myers,” the thing said.

  Sharon took a step backward. She had just started to turn to run when the blue tunnel spun under her feet, and time stopped.

  Chapter Four

  Jason studied the robot. The weird-looking thing was shaped like a giant tin can with flexible plastic tentacles for arms, a basketball-like round head, and a screen in its belly. It floated a foot above the floor.

  “Hey, robot, how you doin’?”

  “Fine, thank you.”

  “You got a name?”

  “Da Vinci,” the robot said.

  “That’s cool. Like the old-time painter, right? The Mona Lisa? Babe with the smile?”

  “The painting’s actual name was La Giaconda.”

  “Whatever,” Jason said. The robot seemed smart. Maybe it could help him understand what kind of tricks his brain was playing. “So anyway, Dr. Cee was saying only kids can teleport? That so?”

  “Yes,” da Vinci said. “It is true.”

  “What happens if adults teleport?”

  “If adults teleport a short distance only once a day or so, they are not affected. If adults teleport longer distances on Earth, or more often than once a day, they get severe, disabling headaches. If they teleport interplanetary, they may die. If they teleport interstellar, through a sally port, they will almost surely die. This is true of both humans and of alien races, except the Devlin.”

  “Wait a minute…” Interstellar teleportation? Alien races? This future he had dreamed up in his in-a-coma head had aliens in it? Jason clung to his theory anyway. It was an anchor, a way to keep dealing with this casually. With glib confidence.

  “I’m revved,” Jason told the robot. “So, only kids can go to other planets outside the solar system, through those...what’d you call them?”

  “Sally ports,” da Vinci said.

  “Yeah, sally ports. Only kids can colonize other planets, then? No adults? No school, no homework, no trigonometry?”

  “Only children whose brain nerves are still growing may t-port through a sally port and emerge alive. This is because t-porting requires flexibility of the myelin sheath that wraps around the brain. Myelin sheaths do not finish growing until the late teens, which means that the cutoff point for humans t-porting across space is around seventeen years old, give or take a few months.”

  Jason sat back down on the edge of his bed and smiled at the robot. “Guess you know a lot, huh?”

  “I am fully programmed as a library resource, plus special procedures for Project Jason Step Three.”

  “Yeah? That’s ‘Jason’ like in me?”

  “The reference is to you, Jason Ramsay.”

  “And what’s the step three I’m going to be taking?”

  “Not your third step,” the robot said. “The third step for mankind. The mission you’re going on with Sharon, Robbie, Jofrid, and Sor. To find the lost colony of the planet Jump.”

  Jason opened his mouth, then closed it again. Sharon? Robbie? Jofrid? Sor? He didn’t know anybody with those names. And no planet Jump, either. And nothing about “t-porting” or “sally ports.” In fact, none of this was stuff his brain ever thought about, so how could he have dreamed it up in a coma? What his brain thought about was basketball and football, and babes, and his buds, and food. Oh, and sometimes some school stuff, when it was really interesting and he couldn’t help getting sucked in. Not this stuff.

  A horrible cold feeling started to creep up Jason’s spine.

  He said slowly to the robot, “Da Vinci, this is all real, isn’t it? I’m not dreaming you. I’m really here in the future? And I’m really going to be sent on a mission to another planet?”

  “Only if you choose to go. No young person will ever be sent into danger against his or her will. And no young person would ever be sent at all if adults could accomplish interstellar t-porting. But they cannot. Still, you most definitely have a choice about going on the mission.”

  “Sure, fine. But the mission is real? You’re real? I’m really here in the future?”

  “Oh, yes,” da Vinci said. “In your future. In 2336. You’re really here.”

  Before Jason could answer, the door opened― or whatever it did―and four people came through. Dr. Cee. Dr. Orgel. Another adult in the same white doctor-clothes. And a girl who looked like she came from his own time. Maybe fourteen, maybe fifteen. Not a babe. Not even a babe-in-training. Skinny, with dirty blond hair, dressed in an old winter coat and Kmart-type sneakers. And yelling.

  No. The girl wasn’t yelling. She had one of those calm, pale, plain faces that are so hard to remember. And there weren’t four people, there were five. Tucked inside the girl’s coat, yelling its head off, was a baby.

  “I do understand, Dr. Cee,” the girl said. She sort of mumbled; Jason had trouble making out her words. “But we’re not going back to 2019. Not until the librarian, Mrs. Staines, returns from her vacation and can give me a job. That’s two weeks from now.”

  “But, Sharon―” Dr. Cee began.

  Sharon. That was one of the names da Vinci gave him. Five kids on the mission to the planet Jump: Jason, Sharon, Robbie, Jofrid, Sor. The mission called Project Jason Step Three―his mission. Named after him, the “natural team builder.” His mission!

  “No,” he said louder than he intended. Everybody turned to look at him. Even the baby stopped yelling. “No, no, and more no. We have a mistake here, folks. If I’m leading a mission to the lost colony on Jump, there’s no babies going along. No babies at all. Sharon can go if that’s the play, but no babies. That baby stays right here.”

  “Well, of course,” Dr. Cee said. She looked relieved. Dr. Orgel didn’t exactly smile, but he frowned a little bit less. Jason relaxed. They were on his side. No baby. At the same time, Jason wondered. You really are adapting on the fly, aren’t you, Jase?

  “Little Tara was yanked by mistake,” Dr. Cee told Jason. “The computer that does the grab can distinguish the right person in the past, but the machinery brings through
the t-port anything that seems merged with the Yank. That includes anything the person is holding, but―”

  “You ever get a dog that way?” Jason asked with interest. “Or a cat?”

  “Yes,” da Vinci said, ever ready to supply information. “One cat from 1997, and one temple snake from 1067.”

  “A snake? From 1067? You mean you…”

  “We’re getting off the subject,” Dr. Orgel said, frowning again. “The point is that Tara was under Sharon’s coat and was inadvertently yanked. Sharon, we’ll send you and Tara back right now and find another team member for the mission.”

  “No,” Sharon said.

  “Yes,” Jason said. “No baby on my mission. No way. I don’t even like babies. No.”

  Dr. Cee said firmly, “I’m sure there’s a way that Sharon can remain with us. The baby will stay here on Edge Station One, and we will look after her for you, Sharon, while you’re on Jason’s team. We can do that quite well. Let me show you.”

  Dr. Cee waved her hand at the wall and it became a TV screen, or maybe a window. The images were so clear that Jason couldn’t tell if they were indeed images or reality. He saw a park filled with trees, grass, and wonderful play equipment. A child climbed on a jungle gym that kept changing shape even as she climbed. A little boy talked to a computer screen, which talked back. An infant crawled toward a bright toy. Beside each child stood a robot like da Vinci, only with more arms. As Jason watched, one robot caught the small falling climber, another helped the boy with his computer, a third picked up a baby and rocked it gently.

  “Tara will have everything she needs,” Dr. Cee said. “We devote our very best minds to the care and teaching of our young―after all, they’re our future. So, Sharon, your choice is now this: Do you want to go on the mission and leave Tara here, or would you prefer we return both of you to 2019 right now?”

  There was a long, tense pause.

  Finally, Sharon said, “I’ll go on the mission and leave Tara with you.”

  Dr. Cee looked at her keenly. “Why do you choose that, Sharon? Please speak up.”

  Sharon said. “If I go on the mission, it will leave me more time to think about what to do about Tara when I do go home.”

  Jason nodded. Well, fine. He didn’t care why the skinny girl left the baby behind, so long as she did. Though, come to think of it, she backed off kind of quick. Weren’t people supposed to be chosen for this team because they had “grit”?

  He looked suspiciously at Sharon, but she was gazing down at the floor, unbuttoning her coat to take the baby out of it. Tara had a dirty diaper; Jason could smell it from here. What was the deal? Was the girl an unwed mother? A big sister? Not that it mattered to Jason. Just so long as he didn’t have to have anything to do with this baby. Or any other.

  “Dr. Cee,” da Vinci said, “the other three team members of Project Jason Step Three have arrived and have been oriented. They’re ready to meet Sharon and Jason.”

  Sharon followed the tall black boy and the two doctors out of the room. At the doorway, the robot held out its long plastic tentacles. It was a moment before Sharon realized that the machine wanted her to hand over Tara.

  Sharon clutched the baby. Yes, she’d seen that wonderful daycare center on the TV, but that was TV. You saw all kinds of things on television that weren’t true.

  “Sharon, let da Vinci have the baby,” Dr. Cee said.

  “Now? So soon?”

  “Now. Tara will be fine.”

  Still Sharon hesitated. The robot―”da Vinci”―reached out a tentacle and put it over Tara’s eyes, then took it away, then put it back and “hid” behind Sharon. Tara pulled the tentacle away, squirmed around until she saw da Vinci, and giggled. The robot played the game again, and Tara held out her arms to it.

  Sharon said, “Does it have any diapers?”

  “It can have the synthesizer. Yes. It has diapers.”

  Sharon let the robot take Tara.

  To tell the truth, it felt good to have Tara out of her arms. A baby could be so heavy. And changing a messy diaper was not fun. Besides, since they were going to be here, in the future, until Mrs. Staines came back from vacation, Sharon should see what the future was like. She’d read so many books about the past, for history class, but none about the future. That was weird when you thought about it since people always spent their lives in the future, not in the past. Her chest tightened a little in excitement. What did it look like, this future?

  In the doorway to the next room, she stopped dead.

  It was beautiful. The walls shimmered with pale colors, always changing. The room looked as if each surface was a giant computer screen on the most delicate screen saver possible, and a screen saver that never repeated itself. The patterns it made did wonderful things to her mood, helping her feel cheerful and able to tackle anything. No, more than that―the patterns made her feel inspired in the same way poetry did. “Beauty is truth, truth beauty...”

  “Cool walls,” Jason said. But he didn’t seem affected by their beauty the way Sharon was. She had almost decided he was a clod when he turned to her and said, “You really get off on them, don’t you, Sharon? You got an artistic streak.”

  She only nodded, overwhelmed that he’d noticed her reaction. Maybe he wasn’t a total clod after all.

  The middle of the room held a huge table with fourteen chairs. Dr. Cee, Dr. Orgel, Jason, and Sharon sat down in four of them. Then another door opened, and five more people came in. Two more doctors, three kids.

  Sharon blinked. These kids weren’t from 2019. No way.

  “Welcome,” Dr. Cee said. “I think I had better make introductions. I’m Dr. Cee, and this is Dr. Orgel. This is Jason Ramsay from the United States of America, in the year 2019. Sharon Myers, from the neighboring nation of Canada, 2019.

  “This is Jofrid Sigurdsdottir, from Iceland, the year 987.”

  From 987! So these people yanked kids from a thousand years farther back in the past than 2019! Jofrid Sigurdsdottir was small, although her face looked older than Sharon’s. She had reddish-blonde hair in two very long braids, tied with green wool strips that matched her long green wool skirt and blouse. Around her waist was a wide embroidered sash with a leather pouch hanging from it. Sharon saw her spot Jason, who was at least a foot and a half taller than her and the color of dark chocolate. The Icelandic girl’s eyes widened but she said nothing, acknowledging the introductions with a series of silent nods.

  With a graceful wave of her hand, Dr. Cee indicated another young time traveler. “This is Robbie, from London, England, 1810. Robbie, do you have another name?”

  “Never did. Robbie does me.” He grinned. He was short, too. Sharon had read that in the past, people were smaller. Worse nutrition. That seemed to fit Robbie, whose teeth were brown and cracked. One tooth on the left side was missing. He wore very old and very dirty pants, a loose shirt, and new-looking leather boots that seemed a bit too big for him. What Sharon noticed most was that he didn’t look frightened. Nor did Jason or Jofrid. “Grit,” Dr. Orgel had said.

  Well, then, what was she doing here? Because she seemed to be the only one who was scared. Sharon was trying not to show it, but she was terrified.

  Dr. Cee nodded toward the last boy, who was as different from Robbie as could possibly be. “This is Sor Spo Gillen, from right now, the year 2336.”

  “Hello,” Sor said. He wore blue shorts and a plain white shirt with a strange little cape. Not quite as tall as Jason, he had dark brown hair, blue eyes, perfect teeth, and a well-muscled body. In fact, he was the most handsome boy Sharon had ever seen. All four doctors were spectacular-looking, too. Did the future build in beauty and health with genetic engineering? Or plastic surgery for everybody?

  “And these are Doctors Riggin and Oa,” Dr. Cee finished. “Now, I know you must all be bursting with questions. Ordinarily, we’d take great pleasure in answering them and in showing you Edge Station One. But just now―”

  “Wait a sec, Doc,” Jason said. �
��What do you mean, ‘ordinarily?’ You folks yanked kids from the past before?”

  “Oh, yes, several times,” said Dr. Cee. “As you were told, only kids can t-port virtually anywhere ports exist. So we’ve needed to bring in teams before for special missions.”

  The doctor ran her hand through her hair. Sharon saw that she was upset. These future people might need to use teams of teenagers, but they didn’t like doing it. They were concerned about the kids’ safety.

  Usually nobody was concerned about Sharon’s safety except her. Suddenly she felt better about this mission, whatever it was.

  “So, where we going?” Jason said. “And to do what?”

  Dr. Orgel spoke. He was still frowning. “I want to make one thing clear. Nobody has to go anywhere. The mission will be explained to you, and then you can each decline if you wish. Anyone who declines will be immediately returned to his or her own time.”

  “Everybody cool with that?” Jason said. He looked encouragingly at Sharon, Jofrid, Robbie, Sor. Only Robbie answered.

  “Bang-up, guv’nor. Give us the lay of the thing.”

  “All right,” Dr. Cee said. “The main point here is that we’re very rushed for time. Ordinarily we’d take several days to train you, show you Edge Station, and let you become a team, but this is an emergency.” Her voice rose, and she bit her lip.

  Another of the doctors took over. Sharon couldn’t remember his name. He was older than the others, with white hair and twinkly eyes. He reminded her of a thin Santa Claus who worked out a lot.

  “You need some background here, ladies and gentlemen. Sor, I’m going to repeat things you already know. Please forgive me. And the rest of you, please forgive my haste.”

  God, Sharon thought, these were the politest people she had ever met. They wouldn’t last two minutes in a disagreement with her mother.

  “Six years ago,” the thin-Santa-Claus-doctor said, “the first alien race appeared at the edge of our solar system. Only a few of Earth’s leaders ever got to see them. We call them the Gift Givers―or the ‘GGs’―because they gave us the t-port booths and sally ports and some other technology that we’ll show you after the mission. We don’t know for sure why the Gift Givers came here, or why they gave us these things, but nothing has been the same on Earth since.