He’d been present for the first reunion between Zora and her father and it had gone . . . not well was somewhat of an understatement. Zora had spent the last year wondering where in time her father had vanished, and the last four weeks certain that he was dead. Then, just a few hours ago, he’d walked back into her life, not dead, not even close.

Ash could still remember the emotion he’d seen play out on his closest friend’s face when she saw him. Zora’s expression had hemorrhaged between hope and despair, joy and confusion. And, because it was Zora, it had quickly morphed into anger, like so many of her emotions often did. The Professor had tried to hug his daughter, but she’d only crossed her arms in front of her chest and said, her voice deadpan, “You’re late.”

Now, the Professor grinned at his daughter, eyes glistening, like he was looking at the sun. She stared back, and Ash could see that she was trying very hard to maintain her stony disposition. It wasn’t working. The tip of her mouth was curling into a grin, no matter how she tried to stop it. It was a strange expression to see on Zora’s face. Ash liked it.

Zora saw him staring. “Shut up,” she murmured, and tried to bite the smile back. When it still didn’t work, she groaned and turned to face the window.

“Everything went swimmingly,” the Professor said. “The exotic matter has been administered.” He nodded at the counter, where the gun that once contained the remaining EM now sat, empty. Dorothy glanced at it but said nothing. Everything was in place.

“We should probably hurry,” Ash said. “Mac thinks we’re both dead, but he’s bound to figure out the truth when he goes to the back of his workshop and sees that we’re all missing.”

“Would that really be so bad?” Chandra asked. “The Cirkus turned on him, right? He doesn’t have any power any longer.”

“Their betrayal depends on them thinking that he’s failed, that he’s killed us and lost them their very last chance of getting to use time travel for themselves,” Dorothy explained. “We’ve bought ourselves just enough time to get out of here before Mac sends the rest of the Cirkus after us.”

“Not to worry. We’ll be gone by then,” said the Professor. “Only one question remains. Where would you all like to go?”

Part Five

The end is in the beginning and lies far ahead.

—Ralph Ellison

39

MAY 3, 2082

Light pressed into Roman’s eyelids, the sensation so strong it was almost like physical touch. It coaxed him from the darkness of sleep, pulling him back up, up to . . .