message..." He leaned his face close to hers, so that his eyes filled her vision. He spoke slowly and carefully, as though reciting something he'd memorized. "History is the collision of countless events. You can't rewrite a story that complex with a magic bullet. You can change the world with time travel, but you can't control the results. You might make things better, but you're far more likely to open the gates of Hell."
He stood and stretched.
"Is that it? What does that mean?" Raven stood with him.
"It means, my pretty little bird, that your current mission won't accomplish what you think it will. You have to change course."
"Change course how?"
"You didn't fill me in on the details. I'm just delivering a message from you to you. You figure it out. I'm just the messenger, don't shoot me."
"If it's from my future self, why didn't I deliver it myself?"
"Interfering with your own past can be extremely risky. We want to intervene as little as possible. You have to be precise and surgical with these things. I've already put your life in danger just by altering events in any way. There's no guarantee you'll live this time. So promise me you'll be safe, right?" He leaned closer to her, and she tensed, ready to strike back. "Do you promise?"
"Sure," she whispered, wondering why his face was suddenly so close to hers.
She was prepared for a knife or a gun, so when he kissed her, her brain shorted out for half a second. She closed her eyes, letting his lips linger on hers for a long moment before she fully realized what was happening.
She snarled and threw a punch at his jaw, but her arm seemed to pass right through him. She opened her eyes.
He was gone. The terminal lay wide open and brightly lit in either direction, with only a thin, scattered crowd, but he wasn't anywhere among them.
She turned a quick circle, searching, but he'd vanished entirely, leaving her with the strange feeling that she'd just been kissed by a ghost.
Chapter Seven
The two-hour bus ride to New Haven departed early in the morning. Along the way, Raven passed time by using her sunglasses to learn about the city before she arrived. The glasses responded to both voice and hand gestures, and they connected to the 2013 version of the Internet to find whatever data she needed.
Raven learned the name "New Haven" sounded like a cult compound for a reason. It had been founded in 1638 by a breakaway sect of Puritans, who were of the opinion that other Puritans just weren't strict enough. It was one of the oldest American cities, best known as the site of Yale University.
She felt anxious as the bus arrived in New Haven. She was closing in on her target, an eighteen-year-old Yale student named Logan Carraway who was destined to become dictator of the nation.
At the New Haven bus terminal, she stepped off the bus and took a moment to stretch her legs and look around. The day was sunny and clear, and the salt-tanged air smelled fresh and clean after two hours on a bus.
Raven locked herself inside a bus station bathroom stall and checked the three-dimensional grid map of New Haven. In the narrow stall, the projection was so tiny she could barely read the text.
The red dot marking the target's NEXT KNOWN LOCATION was time-stamped thirty minutes from the present moment at a coffee shop called Willoughby's, located in an art department building on campus.
Raven walked to the university, wearing her dark glasses and keeping her hand near the pistol under her jacket. Though the city looked tranquil, she felt she was deep inside enemy territory.
She crossed a sprawling, grassy green lined with trees, walking on paved paths past fountains and antique churches with towering steeples. Ahead of her loomed the massive colleges of Yale, each one like a medieval fortress, imposing structures of brick and dark sandstone.
The entire scene was unreal to her, like an idyllic dream, a world that only existed in old movies. There were no armed men or armored
He stood and stretched.
"Is that it? What does that mean?" Raven stood with him.
"It means, my pretty little bird, that your current mission won't accomplish what you think it will. You have to change course."
"Change course how?"
"You didn't fill me in on the details. I'm just delivering a message from you to you. You figure it out. I'm just the messenger, don't shoot me."
"If it's from my future self, why didn't I deliver it myself?"
"Interfering with your own past can be extremely risky. We want to intervene as little as possible. You have to be precise and surgical with these things. I've already put your life in danger just by altering events in any way. There's no guarantee you'll live this time. So promise me you'll be safe, right?" He leaned closer to her, and she tensed, ready to strike back. "Do you promise?"
"Sure," she whispered, wondering why his face was suddenly so close to hers.
She was prepared for a knife or a gun, so when he kissed her, her brain shorted out for half a second. She closed her eyes, letting his lips linger on hers for a long moment before she fully realized what was happening.
She snarled and threw a punch at his jaw, but her arm seemed to pass right through him. She opened her eyes.
He was gone. The terminal lay wide open and brightly lit in either direction, with only a thin, scattered crowd, but he wasn't anywhere among them.
She turned a quick circle, searching, but he'd vanished entirely, leaving her with the strange feeling that she'd just been kissed by a ghost.
Chapter Seven
The two-hour bus ride to New Haven departed early in the morning. Along the way, Raven passed time by using her sunglasses to learn about the city before she arrived. The glasses responded to both voice and hand gestures, and they connected to the 2013 version of the Internet to find whatever data she needed.
Raven learned the name "New Haven" sounded like a cult compound for a reason. It had been founded in 1638 by a breakaway sect of Puritans, who were of the opinion that other Puritans just weren't strict enough. It was one of the oldest American cities, best known as the site of Yale University.
She felt anxious as the bus arrived in New Haven. She was closing in on her target, an eighteen-year-old Yale student named Logan Carraway who was destined to become dictator of the nation.
At the New Haven bus terminal, she stepped off the bus and took a moment to stretch her legs and look around. The day was sunny and clear, and the salt-tanged air smelled fresh and clean after two hours on a bus.
Raven locked herself inside a bus station bathroom stall and checked the three-dimensional grid map of New Haven. In the narrow stall, the projection was so tiny she could barely read the text.
The red dot marking the target's NEXT KNOWN LOCATION was time-stamped thirty minutes from the present moment at a coffee shop called Willoughby's, located in an art department building on campus.
Raven walked to the university, wearing her dark glasses and keeping her hand near the pistol under her jacket. Though the city looked tranquil, she felt she was deep inside enemy territory.
She crossed a sprawling, grassy green lined with trees, walking on paved paths past fountains and antique churches with towering steeples. Ahead of her loomed the massive colleges of Yale, each one like a medieval fortress, imposing structures of brick and dark sandstone.
The entire scene was unreal to her, like an idyllic dream, a world that only existed in old movies. There were no armed men or armored
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