14...

Sixteen-year-old Pima fell back against the door as if she’d been slapped. She missed her mother’s

response. Blood pounded in her ears.

Her father was wearing his white coat with the silver pin. A similar coat was hanging off the end

of the bed. Her eyes searched the white fabric and found no hint of silver. The little medal hanging off the

pocket was gold.

Matching coats with name tags - one silver, one gold.

In her mother’s story - her version of events - her father was the engineer. Pima guessed that was

true. But she had grown up thinking that he was the one making the decisions. The Tower was his project.

He was the one who experienced guilt too late. He was the one who crafted the key and left it for Pima. As

Neeman had once called it - her father’s inheritance. He was the powerful and reluctant engineer caught

between duties. Her mother had never mentioned playing a role other than that of his wife, his supporter.

But it had been her. She was the head engineer. She was ordering the Tower to be built, to be

activated. There was no hesitation or guilt on her face. Not yet.

And suddenly the burden of guilt Pima had seen her mother struggle under all these years took on

a new weight. Pima had to do something, and quick, or that guilt would descend, along with the Tower’s

oppressive shadow. This was her purpose. To change history. But perhaps she couldn’t change history

until the past was set to rights.

“Yes, check on him,” her mother was saying. “And then get some rest. We’ll be fine.”

“Mom. Dad. Can you hear me?” Inching over to the bed, she laid her hands on her mother’s coat,

clenching the white fabric in her hands. “Tell her no, Dad. Tell her no! Don’t leave!”

She flung herself at him as he turned aside and began to pack a bag. He was deaf and blind to her,

but surely he couldn’t ignore her fist pounding into his arm. “Dad! No! Don’t leave! Don’t leave us!”

Jaru paused for a moment, and his eyes found hers. He blinked rapidly several times. Then he

shook his coat sleeves out, wrenching free of her grip, and turned back to his wife and newborn daughter.

He bent to give them each another kiss, his eyes lingering on baby Pima’s face, and then he strode to a

door that she hadn’t noticed before.

“I’ll check in on you before I leave. Call me if you need anything.”

“Dad, listen to me! You can’t do this! Don’t activate the tower. Don’t---”

He slammed the door in her face. The sound, harsh in the still room, caused the baby to stir.

“Shhh. Shhh,” her mother said, rearranging the blanket around the tiny bundle, but the baby took in a

deep lungful of air and let out a piercing scream.

Pima’s heart stuttered. Her breath caught, and her legs once again betrayed her. She fought to

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

keep from passing out as she dropped to the floor. “M...om. Stop...him. Pl...plea...ahhhh…”

Pain wracked through Pima’s body. Time paused as another newborn cry shot through the air like

an arrow to pierce her skull. “No. No…Oh...

Pima propped herself up on her elbows and started to pull herself toward the door. It took

forever, but she finally managed to hook one arm around the door and pull herself out. She laid on her

side in the hallway for several minutes, waiting for her heart to stop stuttering.

She shut her eyes and welcomed the dark.

When she came to again, she found herself staring at a closed door. A cold sweat broke out on her

forehead. She flipped over onto her back. Her head turned from side to side. Left. Right. Left. Right.

Which door was the correct choice?

She needed to fix the mistake that was about to be made...before it was made. Surely one of these

doors must lead to a time when the Tower didn’t exist yet. She tipped her head back and met her father’s

eyes.

“You...You! How do I go back?”

The guardian shook its head.

“How do I make them hear me?”

Another head shake.

“Talk to me! How do I go back?!”

“You can’t.”

“But I have. I am! I need to go back further!”

“You can’t.”

“Stop saying that! I have to!”

The guardian shook its head again. Anger surged through Pima’s body, along with a burst of her

energy, and she shot to her feet. She crossed the hall in two steps, threw open the left side door, and came

face to face with the apparition of Akish. She might have been fooled before, but she could see it now. Its

eyes gave it away. They had lived too long and still seen so little.

Its eyes slid toward the wall with the keyhole. Pima sucked in a breath.

“No. No.”

She backpedaled into the hallway with the doors and made for the last closed door. Before she

could open it, she heard a woman’s blood curdling scream. She laid her forehead against the door, taking

a shuddering breath.

“What do I do? Akish...What would you do?”

She swung around and reached for the door to the room she’d just exited. She turned the

doorknob, opened the door, and stuck her head inside. The scene that met her was like the perfect

snapshot. Her parents sat on the edge of the bed. Her mother’s head was lying on her father’s shoulder,

and a swaddled baby was resting in her arms. The sky outside showed that it was earlier in the day than

before.

Pima was glad that they couldn’t see or hear her. She didn’t want to interrupt this moment. She

wanted to remember it. Eyes fixed on her parent’s faces instead of where she was going, she walked across

the room and through the door on the opposite side.

She was standing in a different room. The room was brighter. Multiple windows had been thrown

open to let in the fresh air. Akish was sitting on a window seat that ran along the back wall. He had a

crayon in one hand, but he was only pretending to draw. She watched his eyes drift up to look at their

parents, then back down to the page, then up again.

The two adults were sitting at opposite ends of a dining table strewn with papers.

“I’m done checking your calculations,” their father said.

Mom looked up eagerly. “And?”

He paused, and then he broke out in a grin. “They look good.”

She heaved a sigh of relief. “But?”

“No but. I’m pleased with the numbers.”

“Are you questioning whether we should push back the activation date?”

Her father stood and busied himself collecting the papers laid out on his half of the table into a

stack. “I am. The last environmental report was inconclusive. We have to be exact when we choose a date.

And I think we should add a few more safety precautions. I’m not sure...”

“We talked about this. The last three reports were acceptable. And we’ve done all we can for safety

at the present time. We won’t know what additional measures may be necessary or cost-effective until we

try to turn it on. Until I try to turn it on. I’m willing to take any risks.”

“And I think you are taking too many risks lately.”

He offered her a hand up. She had to push her chair back further to navigate the table with her

pregnant belly. Tears pricked at the corners of Pima’s eyes. She was still here.

And she was still powerless.