Do not change anything that’s not on the list. If you change anything else you can set off a ripple that will run through time and change everything. And you won’t be able to come back. Changing time prevents your return. But we’ll discuss all of this later in the program. I don’t want to overwhelm you right now.”
Silence falls over the room. I think about Mom and how much I’d like to change the past.
All the information makes my head feel like it’s about to explode. I look around the room and can’t tell if my classmates feel the same way, but Dr. Thompson must be able to read my mind.
“I think that’s enough for the first day. Liam will be taking you back to the ranch. Enjoy the rest of your day. The ranch has a lovely pool area. When you’re not in class or studying, be sure to take advantage of the property. Marvin wants to be a good host.”
The door rolls open and Liam appears. It’s time to go back. Our first day of class is over.
Chapter Eight
Matt
There’s been an uprising on the Strip. The Party hasn’t gained the popularity they desired. Opposition members came into Las Vegas overnight while we slept. The floor where we’re staying is on lockdown and class is cancelled for the day. I sit next to the window, watching the crowd of people holding signs outside the hotel. This can’t be good for business. I heard that the hotel is offering refunds to the guests who complain. People march up and down the streets holding signs. Their mouths are moving, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.
The windows are made of special glass to prevent penetration from outside.
Or jumpers from the inside.
At 11:00 a group of protestors approach the casino. Security pushes them back, but the rear of the crowd continues to surge forward. And it’s not just hotel security in their identifiable black pants and white shirts. Party security has joined them in their heavily armed black uniforms.
I watch a Hummer drive alongside the casino towards the crowd.
I lean my head against the window. The opposition looks so small. Like ants, or specks of dirt, dots in the distance that will blow away with the breeze.
Or be blown away by gunfire.
The crowd doesn’t back up. A couple of men in front wave their signs in the air. Like paper can stop a tank. Then another tank appears. The crowd still doesn’t move.
They’re like a mob.
I packed binoculars in my suitcase. I get up and dig through rumpled clothes and unread books. I find them buried underneath a pair of khakis. Back at home I would never wear khaki pants. But I’m training to be a member of the Party now.
With the binoculars I can see what’s happening on the street below. The opposition looks like nothing more than a group of former hotel workers. Women holding signs asking for a fair wage stand with children close behind.
A man from the front of the group moves toward the Hummer. He climbs up on the front bumper. The driver is one of the Party’s security members. The guy doesn’t get off.
Then there’s a gunshot.
Half the crowd – the closer half – duck. The people standing in the back turn to run, scattering in all directions.
The gun fires into the air again and this time it’s so loud I can hear it in my room. A woman runs towards the tank and the gun moves her direction.
I drop the binoculars and head out the door.
The hallway is empty. The normal security that waits in the hall to greet us in the morning is absent. They’re outside, guarding the front of the hotel, or inside the casino ensuring the guests they are safe.
I’m sure of it.
The elevator is there a second after I hit the button. The door slides open and I’m alone in a rectangular box surrounded by mirrors. I don’t look at my reflection. I’m scared of what I’ll see.
I race through the lobby towards the exit. I don’t look around. I’m sure if I look around a guard will make eye contact with me and he’ll realize I don’t
Silence falls over the room. I think about Mom and how much I’d like to change the past.
All the information makes my head feel like it’s about to explode. I look around the room and can’t tell if my classmates feel the same way, but Dr. Thompson must be able to read my mind.
“I think that’s enough for the first day. Liam will be taking you back to the ranch. Enjoy the rest of your day. The ranch has a lovely pool area. When you’re not in class or studying, be sure to take advantage of the property. Marvin wants to be a good host.”
The door rolls open and Liam appears. It’s time to go back. Our first day of class is over.
Chapter Eight
Matt
There’s been an uprising on the Strip. The Party hasn’t gained the popularity they desired. Opposition members came into Las Vegas overnight while we slept. The floor where we’re staying is on lockdown and class is cancelled for the day. I sit next to the window, watching the crowd of people holding signs outside the hotel. This can’t be good for business. I heard that the hotel is offering refunds to the guests who complain. People march up and down the streets holding signs. Their mouths are moving, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.
The windows are made of special glass to prevent penetration from outside.
Or jumpers from the inside.
At 11:00 a group of protestors approach the casino. Security pushes them back, but the rear of the crowd continues to surge forward. And it’s not just hotel security in their identifiable black pants and white shirts. Party security has joined them in their heavily armed black uniforms.
I watch a Hummer drive alongside the casino towards the crowd.
I lean my head against the window. The opposition looks so small. Like ants, or specks of dirt, dots in the distance that will blow away with the breeze.
Or be blown away by gunfire.
The crowd doesn’t back up. A couple of men in front wave their signs in the air. Like paper can stop a tank. Then another tank appears. The crowd still doesn’t move.
They’re like a mob.
I packed binoculars in my suitcase. I get up and dig through rumpled clothes and unread books. I find them buried underneath a pair of khakis. Back at home I would never wear khaki pants. But I’m training to be a member of the Party now.
With the binoculars I can see what’s happening on the street below. The opposition looks like nothing more than a group of former hotel workers. Women holding signs asking for a fair wage stand with children close behind.
A man from the front of the group moves toward the Hummer. He climbs up on the front bumper. The driver is one of the Party’s security members. The guy doesn’t get off.
Then there’s a gunshot.
Half the crowd – the closer half – duck. The people standing in the back turn to run, scattering in all directions.
The gun fires into the air again and this time it’s so loud I can hear it in my room. A woman runs towards the tank and the gun moves her direction.
I drop the binoculars and head out the door.
The hallway is empty. The normal security that waits in the hall to greet us in the morning is absent. They’re outside, guarding the front of the hotel, or inside the casino ensuring the guests they are safe.
I’m sure of it.
The elevator is there a second after I hit the button. The door slides open and I’m alone in a rectangular box surrounded by mirrors. I don’t look at my reflection. I’m scared of what I’ll see.
I race through the lobby towards the exit. I don’t look around. I’m sure if I look around a guard will make eye contact with me and he’ll realize I don’t
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