The guy’s brow creases, and he pushes his glasses up on to the bridge of his nose. “Which physics building?” he asks. “There are a number of them.”
Oh. Right. Of course there are.
“Are you looking for a specific professor?” he asks.
“Stender. Dr. Ariel Stender.”
The guy nods as if he’s heard of Ariel. “Oh, okay. I had Stender for eight oh four.” And I nod as if I understood that. “His office is in Building Twenty-six.”
Wow. That’s lucky. I thank him and jog across campus, although I have to ask two more people to point me in the right direction. This campus is confusing. Finally I find a five-story rectangle with louvered windows and an orange sign telling me I’ve found Building 26.
I step into a long hallway with white linoleum floors and overhead fluorescent lights. It would be nice if there was a directory, but at least the first person I ask—a girl in a gray tweed suit with a pillbox hat—knows Ariel’s office is on the fifth floor.
I thank her, then take a deep breath and follow behind a cluster of guys heading for the stairs. His office is right off the landing. PROF. A. STENDER is stenciled on the door in big black letters I can’t miss. The door is shut, so I knock. My heart is hammering in my chest, and I place my hand over it like it will escape if I don’t. I think I’m more nervous than I was for the Gardner mission. There’s so much riding on this, and I’m about to plunge back into my past. And what I always hoped would be my future.
I hear footsteps inside the office, and I hold my breath. The door swings open, and a young, petite female wearing a plain, long-sleeved olive-green dress opens it. She’s holding a sandwich in her hand and is standing in stocking-clad feet. She looks vaguely familiar, but that can’t be right.
“Yes?” She holds the sandwich out to the side. “Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Dr. Stender.”
“He’s not here.”
I look past her into the cramped office. Its shelved walls are about to burst with books piled haphazardly on top of one another. That’s so very like Ariel. Cluttered chaos. Yet he always knows exactly where everything is.
“Where can I find him?” I tap my foot against the floor. Nervous tic.
“That depends on what you need him for.” She shoots me a raised eyebrow. I’m not sure who this girl is, but she’s clearly no-nonsense. I kind of admire that. But I don’t have time to make friends. I have to find Ariel, convince him to change the design, and then get the hell out of here. Now.
“I’m here about—” And then I stop talking. What do I say? I’m a visitor from the future here to convince him to change something about his time machine? “His funding,” I decide on. “I’m here about his funding.”
The girl’s eyes get wide. “Oh shoot.” She drops the sandwich onto a plate set on the messy desk and wipes her hands on her dress. “Are you from the Kershul Group?” But then she stops and looks me up and down. “You look so young.”
“I’m older than I look.”
The girl offers a meek smile. “I’m so sorry if I sounded cross before. I’m trying to finish these calculations for Dr. Stender, and I’m a little frazzled right now.”
I hold up a hand. “It’s perfectly all right. My name is . . . Peggy Hart.” That name sounds as if it’s from the sixties, I think. “And yes, I’m from the . . .” Dammit all, what did she say the name of that group was?
“You’re from Kershul.” The girl slips her feet into black heels. “We got your telegram yesterday. You’re early. We weren’t expecting you until next week.”
“Oh, well, I was in the neighborhood,” I lie. I’m just going to go with it.
“From San Francisco?” the girl asks as she grabs her pocketbook and pulls the door shut behind her. She sounds confused, but she smiles at me as if she’s not. “Dr. Stender is in Building Twenty. I’ll take you there.”
“I had other business to attend to on the East Coast.” We start down the stairs. I really need to stop talking now. The best lies are the simplest. They taught us that at Peel. I’m making mine far too complicated. They’re going to see through it.
The girl stops in the lobby and looks at me. “Not at Harvard?” There’s an edge to her voice now.
I clear my throat. “Where’s Building Twenty?”
The girl laughs and pushes open the door, then holds it for me. “You’re funny. Building Twenty. You know where it is. It’s where the Rad Lab used to be. Kershul helped fund it.”
I nod my head even though I don’t understand a word she’s saying. “Of course.” Dammit. I’m blowing this. Keep it simple. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.” The girl stops and holds out her hand. “I’m Mona. Mona Hirsch. I’m Dr. Stender’s research assistant.” She reaches into her purse, pulls out a pack of cigarettes, sticks one in her mouth, and lights it. “This way.”
I can’t walk. My feet won’t move. Because she’s Mona. The Mona. Ariel’s future wife. Abe’s future grandmother. And she’s going to be a karate sensei someday.
Without thinking, I leap over to Mona and tear the cigarette from her lips. I throw it to the ground and stomp on it.
Mona looks at me with horrified eyes. “What’d you do that for?”
How am I supposed to answer her? I can’t very well tell Mona that she’s going to die of lung cancer in a few decades, caused solely by her pack-a-day habit. And I certainly can’t tell her that the love of her life, who I guess is currently her professor, is going to be completely heartbroken over her death.
“Cigarettes cause cancer,” I mutter.
Mona shrugs. “I’m nineteen. I don’t need to worry about that.”
“Yes, you do.” I’ve never met this woman, but I know the void her death will cause many years from now. “Besides, I don’t think Dr. Stender likes girls who smoke.” This part is true at least. Ariel used to rage whenever someone would light up in front of him. I don’t know whether he’s always been that way, but it’s worth a shot.
“He doesn’t?” Mona asks, and I hear it in her voice. She already has a thing for Ariel. I knew the two of them had met at MIT, but the way I’d always heard it, Mona was a grad student, not a nineteen-year-old undergrad. Maybe that’s why I’d never heard about it. Or maybe they don’t get together for another few years. “How do you know that?”
“It came up in conversation,” I say.
Mona raises an eyebrow at me, just enough for me to wish I hadn’t opened my big mouth, but then she points to a huge, ugly building that stretches forever. It’s white concrete with plain, square windows. “There’s Building Twenty.”
We enter a dingy, dark corridor, and Mona leads me to the B wing. The floors creak, and most of the windows have mold growing in the corners. I rub my hands over my arms. This place is creepy.
We stay on the ground floor and head down another dirty corridor until we’re at the last door. Mona holds it open, and as she does, a short, thin man looks up from behind a very odd-looking machine. Ariel. I stop in my tracks. It’s like looking at a slightly older version of my boyfriend.
“Dr. Stender,” Mona calls over the whir of a machine, “this is Miss Hart. She’s here from the Kershul Group.”
“Is she now?” Ariel switches off the machine he’s working on. It’s small, with two discs on either side connected by a thin copper wire. There’s a thin silver switch on the base of the machine. “I was expecting Jack Briggs from Kershul. He’s who I’ve been communicating with. But he’s not due to arrive until next week.”
Ariel is young. So young. I’m used to the man with silver hair and age spots dotting his hands, not this trim, fit, slightly older version of Abe that stands before me. My heart is hammering away inside my chest. I miss Abe. I’ve been trying my best to leave him behind and go about my business, but now he’s standing here before me and I want to run to him and throw myself into his arms.