as far as he was concerned he had a very good idea who it was: The Caretaker.
There was something off about the guy, something he was hiding, even if he did act like he was only there to make certain everything went smoothly.
Caretaker of what? Dale was fed up asking. But it couldn't mean...? No, that would just be stupid.
Dale figured he'd try again. After all, he didn't have anything to lose by asking, right?
They were sat outside what would have been a very swanky and expensive cafe, too pricey for them for sure, now little more than a dirt-covered hovel, the sign fallen, the tables and chairs in disarray, the door locked. It was weird, sitting there not able to people-watch, just him and Amanda, nothing more.
"Amanda?"
Amanda turned, looking at him seriously. "Why do I get a bad feeling about this?"
"Well, um, probably because you know what I'm going to ask."
"The Caretaker?"
Dale just nodded.
"Go on then, ask."
"Look, I won't ask you to go there, wherever that is, I can see it's too traumatic for you, but, well, could it be him? That's responsible, sort of, for all of this?"
"Dale, he came to us to solve the problem. Said it was us that started it all, that we had to save the world."
"Yes, yes, I know all that. But look, someone had to invent the bloody thing, right?"
"We've been through this, it's the—"
"I know, the paradox. I don't believe it. Somebody, somewhere, at some time, made Hexads and we got caught up in the middle of it, making it a self-fulfilling prophecy, but it had to have a beginning. Fragments."
"Not when it comes to this kind of madness it doesn't." Amanda pulled a Hexad from her bag, a 5 flashing in familiar bright blue on its dome.
"It has to, don't you see? It's technology and that means it has to have been made. I know what you said about Hector and his production plant, but he got the plans that I told Peter to send, and that means somebody designed it initially and then it all kind of unraveled. So, could it have been him?"
Amanda took a long time to answer, biting the corner of her lip in that cute way of hers while Dale tried not to rush her.
"Maybe," was the answer when it finally came.
"Okay, wait here then. I won't be a minute." Dale checked his watch, and before Amanda could reach out an arm to stop him he slammed his hand down on the top of a fresh Hexad and disappeared.
"Dale. No!"
Amanda was shouting at empty air. Dale hadn't even gone Whooooooooooooooooooosh.
Bad Idea
Past, Present and Future
Dale knew he'd made a serious mistake as soon as he hit the Hexad's dome. A really bad one. As with all jumps it had been an instantaneous transfer from one place and time to another — it never really felt like there was a delay or any sense of hurtling through the cracks in reality — you were just somewhere else, disorientated sure, maybe even freaking about falling to your death if you didn't think strongly about landing on terra firma, but there was no pause in the jump, you simply appeared somewhere else, and sometime else.
This felt different. This felt like everything you imagined it to be when you watched a movie about people spiraling through vortexes and being ripped apart molecule by molecule then put back together again, never really sure if you were the same person again or if somehow bits got mixed up, wires crossed, brain reconfigured just that little bit differently to how it was before.
Dale felt all that and more. He felt like he had been spinning out of control for eternity, winding his way around the universes, falling apart at the seams and stitched back together an infinite number of times until he wasn't even anything resembling himself any longer.
The most bizarre part of it all was that he was just in a beautiful garden full of brightly colored flowers of all shapes, sizes and hues, with birds singing loudly, bees buzzing as they bumbled from one source of nectar to the next and butterflies danced in the clear,
There was something off about the guy, something he was hiding, even if he did act like he was only there to make certain everything went smoothly.
Caretaker of what? Dale was fed up asking. But it couldn't mean...? No, that would just be stupid.
Dale figured he'd try again. After all, he didn't have anything to lose by asking, right?
They were sat outside what would have been a very swanky and expensive cafe, too pricey for them for sure, now little more than a dirt-covered hovel, the sign fallen, the tables and chairs in disarray, the door locked. It was weird, sitting there not able to people-watch, just him and Amanda, nothing more.
"Amanda?"
Amanda turned, looking at him seriously. "Why do I get a bad feeling about this?"
"Well, um, probably because you know what I'm going to ask."
"The Caretaker?"
Dale just nodded.
"Go on then, ask."
"Look, I won't ask you to go there, wherever that is, I can see it's too traumatic for you, but, well, could it be him? That's responsible, sort of, for all of this?"
"Dale, he came to us to solve the problem. Said it was us that started it all, that we had to save the world."
"Yes, yes, I know all that. But look, someone had to invent the bloody thing, right?"
"We've been through this, it's the—"
"I know, the paradox. I don't believe it. Somebody, somewhere, at some time, made Hexads and we got caught up in the middle of it, making it a self-fulfilling prophecy, but it had to have a beginning. Fragments."
"Not when it comes to this kind of madness it doesn't." Amanda pulled a Hexad from her bag, a 5 flashing in familiar bright blue on its dome.
"It has to, don't you see? It's technology and that means it has to have been made. I know what you said about Hector and his production plant, but he got the plans that I told Peter to send, and that means somebody designed it initially and then it all kind of unraveled. So, could it have been him?"
Amanda took a long time to answer, biting the corner of her lip in that cute way of hers while Dale tried not to rush her.
"Maybe," was the answer when it finally came.
"Okay, wait here then. I won't be a minute." Dale checked his watch, and before Amanda could reach out an arm to stop him he slammed his hand down on the top of a fresh Hexad and disappeared.
"Dale. No!"
Amanda was shouting at empty air. Dale hadn't even gone Whooooooooooooooooooosh.
Bad Idea
Past, Present and Future
Dale knew he'd made a serious mistake as soon as he hit the Hexad's dome. A really bad one. As with all jumps it had been an instantaneous transfer from one place and time to another — it never really felt like there was a delay or any sense of hurtling through the cracks in reality — you were just somewhere else, disorientated sure, maybe even freaking about falling to your death if you didn't think strongly about landing on terra firma, but there was no pause in the jump, you simply appeared somewhere else, and sometime else.
This felt different. This felt like everything you imagined it to be when you watched a movie about people spiraling through vortexes and being ripped apart molecule by molecule then put back together again, never really sure if you were the same person again or if somehow bits got mixed up, wires crossed, brain reconfigured just that little bit differently to how it was before.
Dale felt all that and more. He felt like he had been spinning out of control for eternity, winding his way around the universes, falling apart at the seams and stitched back together an infinite number of times until he wasn't even anything resembling himself any longer.
The most bizarre part of it all was that he was just in a beautiful garden full of brightly colored flowers of all shapes, sizes and hues, with birds singing loudly, bees buzzing as they bumbled from one source of nectar to the next and butterflies danced in the clear,
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