March, 1984 — Surrey, Engnd

  Their Christmas tree, which Carol had indeed named —George— was thriving in its new location in front of the building that housed Schuster Lab. They passed by it each morning and evening, and most had taken to saying, “Morning, George,” or “See you tomorrow, George,” as they came and went.

  They had finally—collectively—drawn up the willpower to get rid of it. Carol looked like a little girl saying goodbye to a pet parakeet just as the shoebox was closed and pced in the ground. But when Carlos removed the decorative skirt from the base of the tree, they all saw it.

  “Are those...roots?” Alex asked.

  There was no mistaking the thick, pale roots curling out from the base like knotted ropes.

  Carol let out a squeal of joy. “It’s still alive!”

  “We should pnt it,” Edith said, as Alex began the delicate process of untangling the roots from the stand.

  The poster was now adorned with a cartoon sketch of their yearly group photo. In the back, standing taller than all of them, was George — waving one of his branches at the camera.

  Someone had also added a ticket stub from their trip to Brighton. Carol (or possibly Carlos) had applied a wildflower from their hike in the Downs. And the pub coaster, on which they’d all scrawled their names, had been taped to the bottom, struggling against the stained paper’s inclination to curl.

  It was an outer projection of their inner bond. A marking of the passage of time—like marks on a door jamb showing growth. It was their bond as a team she was seeing, almost in real time.

  They had each added something from home. A photo. The cover of a program. A name tag from a brother’s wedding. Ed Martell had said he didn’t need to add something from home because the b was his home.

  Aric still hadn’t added anything.

  Until today.

  He arrived quietly as always, but this time was different. His steps were softer, more measured. He seemed as he walked slowly towards the poster to be fragile. He had something in his hand that she thought she recognized. It wasn’t until he pced it to the paper and held it there with a thumbtack that she was certain.

  It was a bck and white photo of an elderly man holding an infant in his arms.

  He stood in front of it afterward, not moving. Edith heard him say something softly as she approached, a whisper she almost missed.

  “Love you, Vaari. Miss you.”

  He extended his hand out to the photo, wiping away a piece of something as the tears rolled down his cheeks. She didn’t need to see the instruments respond as his emotion leaked out and filled the room, she could feel it for herself. Delphine’s sob was cut short when she cmped her right hand over her mouth. Edith knew that everyone was fighting their emotions, and Aric’s.

  But in a moment it was over. The instruments grew quiet. The air became lighter. Aric wiped the tears from his face before looking at her.

  She knew the magnitude of the gift he had given them. The photo of his grandfather, his namesake, holding the infant Aric in his arms. One of his most prized possessions. It had traveled with him across West Germany. It had survived torrential rain. A fire that had destroyed an armored vehicle and everything—and nearly everyone— in it. He’d kept it as close to his heart as possible. But the man in the picture rested closer still.

  Aric’s retionship with his grandfather—his mother’s father—had been beyond close. Beyond valuable. His death had affected Aric greatly. It was like he’d lost a piece of himself.

  And now—after all this time—Aric was giving them that piece.

  April, 1984 — Surrey, Engnd

  When Edith finally answered Dr. Martell’s summons, she found he wasn’t alone.

  In the four months since Aric’s episode in the b, everyone who’d been there had discovered some personal change. Alex jokingly called it being washed in cosmic energy. For most, the effects were small: childhood scars gone, Carol’s colrbone showing nothing on an X-ray, Hank’s cauliflower ear mysteriously smoothed away. But Ed Martell had changed the most—his hair darker, his skin smoother, the gravel in his voice softened.

  She was sure that she’d been changed too. But in her case, it wasn’t the energy Aric had inadvertently flooded through all of them. It was Aric himself. He was the catalyst, not the cosmic accident. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe she was immune—just because she hadn’t noticed a difference didn’t mean something wasn’t quietly working its magic within her.

  What she did know was that she was as happy as she’d ever been. And it was because of him. Because he was in her life. Because of the connection between them—still unexpined, still beyond her understanding, but as real as anything she’d ever known.

  Delphine had wept with joy when Aric reappeared, walking beside Edith as if he’d never been gone. She’d finally unwrapped his gift—a Cddagh pendant in sterling silver and rose gold, delicate and familiar. He’d known she loved it without asking. Since his return, everyone had tried to pretend things were the same.

  But they weren’t.

  And now, someone else had noticed.

  “Edith,” Dr. Martell said as she stepped inside. “This is Professor Donald Dreyer, from the University of Gsgow.”

  The rge man struggled to his feet, buttoning his coat over a generous belly. His face was wide, his nose bulbous, his hair graying and thin. Deep ugh lines framed a broad, warm smile as he extended both hands to her.

  “Charmed,” he said, csping her hand between his. His accent was thick—Highnds, by the sound of it—and his palms were warm and rough.

  “Edith is one of our research staff,” Martell said. “She came to us from Cambridge, after defending her PhD.”

  “Ah, grand,” Dreyer said cheerfully. “And what’s yer poison, ss? What were ye studyin’?”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “Time-reversal symmetric microscopic dynamics. Specifically —quantum superposition of thermodynamic evolutions with opposing time’s arrows.”

  Dreyer let out a low chuckle. “Ach, a bit of a mouthful, that. Nae much on gravitational waves, then?”

  Ed Martell grinned. “Professor Dreyer specializes in detecting gravitational waves. He has an interferometer up in Gsgow for just that purpose.”

  “Don, please,” he said with a wink. “No need for formalities.”

  “I’m gd to meet you, Don,” Edith replied. She liked him instantly.

  “What brings you to Surrey?” she asked.

  “That’s what we want to talk about,” Martell said. “Don and his colleagues at MIT and Garching are all studying gravitational waves. Each has an interferometer—”

  “Tiny wee things,” Don interrupted. “Forty meters. Like toys, really. But they do well enough for now. Prove a concept, ye ken, before askin’ for real funding.”

  “They never expected to detect much,” Martell said. “The scale’s too small for cosmic waves.”

  “So ye’ll imagine our surprise,” Don said, “when all three machines picked up gravitational waves. All on the same day st December.”

  Edith’s breath caught.

  “December 16th,” Martell confirmed gently. “2:42 PM.”

  Her knees went weak. She found herself sitting without realizing she’d moved.

  Don’s expression shifted immediately. “Oh, ss, I’m sorry. I didn’t ken it’d be upsettin’. I can speak with Ed instead if ye like.”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m fine. Please—go on. You were saying—”

  “Aye.” He looked briefly at Martell before continuing. “It took time to compare notes. But when we did, it was clear. Three independent detectors. We trianguted the source… and it pointed here.”

  Martell added, “That’s when Don reached out to Dr. Weatherby. And that eventually led him to us.”

  Why would Weatherby share anything about our research? she wondered.

  Martell caught the question on her face. “Don showed him their data. I asked him to show you as well.”

  Don pulled a folded sheet from his coat pocket. “Ye ken interferometry?” he asked, handing it to her.

  She scanned the page—and immediately understood why Ed wanted her to see it.

  “1.312 kilohertz” she murmured. “The waves are oscilting at 1.312 kilohertz.”

  “Aye. And I’m told that means somethin’ to the work ye folk are doin’ here.”

  It meant everything. That frequency matched the modution embedded in the background whenever Aric used his powers.

  She looked at Ed. He’d kept Aric’s secret. Built the project around him. Protected him. And in the process, had brought Aric into her life.

  She owed him more than she could ever repay.

  But she owed Aric something else. Her love for him wasn’t debt—it was a divine gift. And she would burn this entire boratory to the ground, herself with it before she let him be harmed.

  “It lines up with something in our data,” she said calmly. “A distortion we couldn’t expin. Until now.”

  “A lot had to line up for us to find this,” Martell added. “And one of those factors came with a cost. One of our team was in serious danger. We won’t let that happen again.”

  Don Dreyer sensed he’d stepped into something complicated. But his face remained kind.

  “I’ll sign the Official Secrets Act if you like. Swear a scout’s oath. Whatever this is… I think it matters. To all of us. We can help each other—if you let us.”

  Martell didn’t answer right away. Then: “Let me consult with the team. Are you staying nearby?”

  Don’s grin returned. “I can be.”

  “He’s right,” Aric said, studying the data. “It’s something we didn’t know before.”

  “So in addition to everything else,” Alex said, “you’re generating gravitational waves.”

  “But only that once were they detectable,” Delphine noted. “All the other times—nothing.”

  “That one time was orders of magnitude higher,” Carol said, rubbing her colrbone unconsciously. “But I bet he’s always doing it. Just too faint to pick up.”

  “But if he can do it accidentally,” Alex said, “he could do it deliberately.”

  “Assuming he figures out how,” Hank added. “Assuming he wants to.”

  Aric shifted uncomfortably. He hated being the center of attention like this.

  “I’m not sure I want to figure it out,” he said finally. “I don’t see what it’s good for. Do you?”

  No one answered.

  “It’s been an interesting day,” Martell said at st. “I’ve invited Don to dinner. I want all of you to come. Let’s be gracious—he could’ve kept this to himself, but he didn’t.”

  “We don’t have to go if you’re not comfortable,” Edith said quietly, eyes on Aric.

  Delphine nodded. “You’ve already had enough of being studied.”

  But Aric smiled at them both, then looked to their team leader.

  “Dr. Martell’s cooking isn’t that bad.”