“Now!” she said, when the disk reached maximum agitation, and I didn’t hesitate, because I didn’t know how long she could do this.

I plunged an arm through the opening and felt nothing, not even the cold shock of water that I’d half expected. But I did get a shock of another kind, because my entire arm disappeared. And then partially reappeared—as a disembodied hand—on the other side.

It was connected to absolutely nothing, maybe because my arm was still inside Gertie’s little portal. Which was getting smaller all the time, I realized, as the edges began to shrink. That probably meant I was already running out of time, and that was my hand—I recognized the chipped nail polish.

And when I wiggled my fingers, the ones on the hand moved, too.

Okay. Don’t think about where your arm is, I thought. Don’t think at all. Just do this!

Which would have been easier if I’d been a little closer. I stretched and reached, but just managed to brush the giant’s head with a finger. And that wasn’t good enough.

“Can you get me any nearer?”

Gertie muttered something. But the viewport, which I guessed was now a proper portal, moved another few inches toward the head. Enough that I managed to get my palm onto the bone of what had been a protruding cheek.

I had an immediate flash of pitted, pockmarked skin, of a bulbous nose, and of tiny, beady eyes of an indeterminate color between mud and a bowel movement. He had a deep, long-healed slice on his cheek, which I could feel the faint echo of on the bone. Endearingly, he also had acne, because he wasn’t that old, was he? Despite his size, he was little more than a boy—

And then it was gone, the brief flicker of vision melting away like new fallen snow.

I pressed harder, moving my hand to different spots on the skull, ranging as far as I could reach. But nothing changed. That was it, like the roll credits scene on the world’s shortest movie.

Leaving me unsure what to do now.

This sort of thing usually worked or it didn’t, without a lot of middle ground. But the quick little flashes I picked up as I tried again and again, moving around to find the right spot, didn’t even show me what I’d already seen. They didn’t show me anything but brief strobes of light behind my eyelids.

“Cassie—”

“I need to go farther back,” I said. “You were right: there’s something here, but it’s too old. The memory has been lost.”

More muttering commenced, maybe because the kiddie pool was now hula hoop sized, and I finally got what she’d meant about losing an arm. I had until the aperture closed to finish this, or… I tried not to think about the or.