And . . . I’m back! Also, not dead! I’ve successfully injected myself with exotic matter, and I think it’s safe to say that I have not caused any life-threatening internal bleeding. A toast to small victories!

As the first man alive to have exotic matter implanted into his person, I also feel it necessary to point out that this stuff feels weird! There was a cool, tingly feeling at the injection site, followed by what I can only describe as a brightness bursting through my veins. It felt like liquid sunshine spreading through my entire body. Extraordinary.

In any case, this is only step one. Step two is, actually, not as complicated. According to Tesla, there are millions of microscopic anils below the earth’s surface. The exotic matter should stabilize my body for travel, so now I just have to harness the power of these tiny wormholes and allow them to transport me back in time. As I will not be in a time machine, navigation will be more difficult. I’m not actually sure how it will work. When I’m in the anil, I look for specific patterns in the tunnel walls.

Tesla has theorized that time travel using the energy of the smaller anils below the earth’s surface should work like water moving through stone. In other words, I’ll be likely to travel through well-worn territory, revisiting places where I’ve been recently or often. Very interesting.

If he’s correct in his theory, all I need to do is “align myself with the Puget Sound anil.” To be perfectly honest, I’m not entirely sure what he means by that. How does one “align himself” with an anomaly of the natural world?

I do know this—the Puget Sound anil opened in the Cascadia subduction zone. I believe it’s possible that just being near the subduction zone could be enough to harness the power of the anil.

Which is why I’m sitting in a little rowboat right now, just outside the zone, preparing myself to—to put it scientifically—row forward and see what happens. Here I go.

If Tesla’s theory is correct, I should feel a sort of current, which he said should feel like a fishhook in my navel and—

Oh—

6

Dorothy kept to the shadows, following the winding, rickety docks through the city. The sun had come out of hiding, and its crushingly bright light glimmered off the black water, edging the day in gold.

She found herself looking over her shoulder more than she needed to and hunching down in her cloak, like the thin layer of cloth might protect her from a gunshot or the cold slash of a blade. This sort of brightness always put her on edge. It tricked her mind into thinking she was safe. It made her drop her guard. Here, that was practically a death wish. She doubted she’d ever be safe again.