"Destination?"
"That's a good question," Greg said, peering around the robot at Vega. "Can we put this guy down?"
"It should be alright," Vega replied. He motioned Greg to drive the robot forward. "Since we don't have to touch when we exit, the device should dispel everything it has brought along."
"So how do we switch this thing on?" Greg asked, studying the robot. "Advanced combat unit... N.V. Signature...," he read.
"Oh, no. We are not turning it on! They were semi-independent, but required orders to follow. Who is to know what kind of programming we might turn on? No, it needs a new brain."
"And I suppose you know where to go to get one," Greg said.
"Not exactly, but I do have some ideas," Vega said, pacing back and forth. "In fact, this was the weakest area of my plan. We will go to South Africa. In the eighties, lots of independent coders and hackers had taken up residence there. I bet we could find someone to do some custom work for us."
"You wanna get someone from the eighties to reprogram our robot from the future?"
Vega choked back laughter, and said, "No child! The twenty-eighties! This bot will be an antique to them! There were treaties that were signed banning combat units like this. It will take a custom build to bring this guy back to life. First we have to give him a better attitude. But this is the type we will want to use. Never thought I'd turn an enemy into a friend... This robot was built tough as they ever came..."
"So we are going to give this machine a life of its own?" Greg asked, eyeing the robot.
"No, not quite. A.I's developed in the twenty-seventies are not like the ones at the turn of the century. They don't have feelings or souls. They are merely complex tools, similar to a vocal interface application like you have on your phones. You don't consider that a person, do you? Things end up being a lot less dramatic than everyone anticipated."
"Where did you come from? When did you come from? How do you know all this?" Greg spewed.
"I have bounced through a couple hundred years - things you may see in your lifetime. There was a war and some other interesting events, as well. Not long ago, I happened upon a man who told me a legend, the story of the man who stole those coins. That was what got me on tracking you down. That's all. Nothing to think too hard over," Vega answered.
Greg opened his mouth to protest the cryptic answer, when Vega announced a destination.
"April eighth, 2084. Ten in the morning. Queenstown, South Africa. Exact location unimportant, but somewhere secluded near the hospital."
"Placing you in five seconds."
The three arrived in full morning light. Vega removed his cloak and stuffed it back into his satchel. They stood on a poorly paved, narrow street between two worn brick buildings. The area did not look like it was used for housing. But then again, Greg had never been to South Africa. The air tasted different and he felt his eyes beginning to burn.
"We are going to need to find a garage to rent," Vega began. "The robot must be kept out of sight while we search for an adequate programmer. The trick will be for the space to also serve as a home base while the programmer does his work."
Greg began to fall back as Vega spoke. He heard little of what his partner was saying, his own mind working out his next move.
"Is something wrong?" Vega said. He stopped and looked back at the younger man, fully exposed to the daylight.
"We are going to need money, right?" Greg said, searching for a reason to leave.
"One hundred year old Canadian dollars? Those will not be worth much here, I think," Vega said. "And more importantly, if we try to exchange them, it may raise some eyebrows. The last thing we want is to draw attention to ourselves."
Greg didn't know how to counter this logic. His brain was tired but he didn't feel an urge to sleep. A break from the intense old man seemed like the only thing that would fix what troubled him. He needed a chance to process all the craziness that had happened to him in the last few hours.
"But then again," Vega broke in, dispelling any the feelings of resistance, "gold is valuable despite when you have it."
"I can go get a handful of coins from my stash," Greg replied. "Plus, I could really use a change of clothes."
"Sounds like a worth while plan," Vega nodded. "Take a couple hours to change your clothes and get some food. Meet me back here at noon. Remember the date; 9th of April, 2084. Take this watch. It counts the hours as the present flows forward. I need you back here before too much actual time passes. We have some time to play with, but not much."
"Okay."
"And remember not to get caught. The Hopper rules..."
"The Hopper rules, yeah, I know," Greg said. He flipped the coin, and Vega was left alone on an empty street in South Africa with only a war robot on a leash to keep him company.
Greg appeared in his room, two minutes after he left the last time. It was still the middle of the day, but he felt exhausted as he flopped back in his bed, kicking off his heavy boots. The smell of his pillow and familiar comfort of his covers seemed to carry him away.
Thoughts danced through his fatigued mind as he drifted closer to sleep. The deeper he sank toward unconsciousness; his thoughts became more and more abstract. The overhead view of himself on a whitewashed roof, watching his brother disappears from a gas station. Himself walking away with a wagon and two friends. The picture of his father on the living room wall. Then it was his father down in the gas station wearing the attendant’s shirt, looking up at Greg and flipping that cursed coin.
Who are you, Vega? Greg asked wordlessly. He was sure to be dreaming now. You know it all, but how are you going to save me from the lizards of the future? I will save Peter. I will...
Peter's face came into view. He looked so much like their father, whereas Greg took after their mother.
If only I could save him. The possibility ran its course. He could go back to the day their father went to work and didn't come home. He could call an ambulance, or warn the doctors... But then, the boys would grow up with a father, and their mother might not have to work so hard to afford a rental close to downtown. Peter wouldn't have had to take a job to help out. Would he have gone riding that day with Chelsea and Zach? Maybe he would never have found the coin and all this wouldn't have happened. And what would happen to him? Would he cease to exist? It was a dangerous illogicality; the fog that Vega had warned him against walking into.
Should he even trust that old man? It was startling how much Vega knew. But how had he lived through parts of this century and then gone back to 2002 without having his own coin? Greg had a strong intuition in his dream. Vega was lonely. There was no way he really needed Greg along to get his own coin... Vega had brought him along because he needed the company. He must not be used to doing things unaided.
Three quick raps woke Greg from his brief dip into sleep.
"Are you feeling okay?" A woman asked.
It was Maria Thompson standing at the threshold to her son’s room. Greg was spread-eagle on his bed, in the same position he had fallen. The room was bright with daylight, but the quality had changed somewhat. Greg popped his neck and rubbed his dry hands together. He blinked away the clouds from his eyes, smiling up at his mother.
"Yeah, I was just really tired."
"I just got home from work and it was so quiet. How long have you been napping? Should I let you sleep?
"I probably shouldn't," Greg said, coming to his elbows. "What time is it?"
"Just after three," she said and paused. "I'm proud of you Greg. You remind me so much of your brother."
Her eyes welled up; she smiled, patting the doorframe. "I left work early since I have to go down to Sacramento to drop off my car. The clutch is slipping again! I will be getting a loaner; so don’t be surprised when a strange car pulls in the drive later. You will have to take care of yourself for dinner," she added as she turned away from Greg's room.
"I love you, Mom," Greg called after her. He swung his legs off the bed and po
pped his sniff neck to each side. He sniffed at his shirt and pulled it off, heading to the shower. He had slept for only an hour, but the brief rest had totally refreshed his mind.
Greg brought the coin into the bathroom and laid it on the vanity. Soaking his head under the thin stream of water, he felt light and springy. The cathartic dreams unknotted the tangle of worry he had felt since the discovery of the time coin. Standing in front of the mirror, free of the grime from a long day of jumping through time and space, he made up his mind to help Vega, no matter where that choice may lead. Not only did he feel like this was the right thing to do, but it was the most fun he had had all summer.
Getting ready, Greg began planning out the errands he would do before going back to South Africa. He didn't have much time to spare, but he figured he could grab a haircut and a suit so that he looked professional. As few people questioned someone wearing a suit, as Vega's own attire had shown. A proper look would draw fewer questions than a sixteen-year-old kid dressed like he was going out for baseball practice.
Finishing up his preparations to leave, Greg spun the coin on his dresser the way Vega had done, and left his room to return to his adventure.
Vega strolled down the street in Queenstown, South Africa, 11:50 A.M. He wore a different suit and a black cap covering his grey hair. His attire would have looked completely normal for a middle aged man walking the streets in London in the beginning of the century, but in 2084, he looked like someone who was making a statement by embracing the classic style of a past age.
It was the perfect temperature for a stroll and the old magician entered a green open space, sitting on a bench with his back to the roadway that encircled the park. In the center of the city, things were much more clean-cut. New money from the electronics research industry had kept Queenstown small, but polished like a gem.
Vega watched the midday crowd of park patrons as he waited for his young partner to return. A part of the experienced traveler worried that the boy could get himself into trouble or decide not to reappear. But the other part had also seen the momentary flash that dispelled all his apprehension.
Four figures had appeared the instant Vega and Greg left the Enforcer stunned in the dust.
The pleasant ringing of the bell tower in the center of the park alerted Vega to the local time. As the chime hit its eighth iteration, a young blond man walked out of the shadow cast by the park's central statue and began to read the large plate beneath. His dress was far different from the boy who had left two hours before. He even seemed a bit taller. Vega, hands in pockets, joined Greg as he admired the statue.
"Have a good trip?" Vega said. It had been a little over two hours since he had seen the boy, but Greg seemed older to him somehow. "How long have you been gone?"
"Not long. How old are you?" Greg said, fencing back with the older man. He handed over the pocket watch for Vega to check.
Vega smiled. "Well, the bot is in a rented garage not far from here. You brought gold?"
"I have a couple small bricks and some coins," Greg said patting his breast pocket. "We can exchange it for a couple hundred Rand. I looked it up, that's still what they use here, right? You hungry? I'd like to try some African food."
"Sounds fine," Vega laughed. "I got a couple leads on someone to help us out with a brain for our tin man."
"Well then, let's not waste any more time." Greg grinned.
CHAPTER 13