The Loved and the Lost Page 2

  “Yes, but . . . but . . .” Lincoln said out loud.

  “But what?” Hansum asked. Lincoln shot him a confused glance.

  “But . . .” Lincoln was too shocked to continue.

  “Now you are embarrassed because I can read your most intimate thoughts. Even your . . . fantasies. You think I’m sexy.”

  Lincoln flushed brightly again. He turned to Arimus and spoke pleadingly.

  “What should I do? She can . . .”

  “Yes, I know what’s going on,” Arimus said.

  “To judge if you two are a good match,

  I too had a sip of Medeea.

  Lincoln, you must gain the belief that

  being open about your most inner contemplations

  brings you closer to self-contentment.

  As I said to Hansum, the quest is self-knowledge.”

  “What’s going on?” Hansum asked.

  “In the same way you have to confront your own self,

  so you’ll a time traveler be as your prize,

  so must Lincoln.

  He’s just had . . . a little surprise.”

  “You okay, pal?” Lincoln heard Hansum ask, but he didn’t look at him. He kept staring at Medeea, and she at him. Her smile softened.

  “Excuse my teasing,” she said in his head. “You’re having a stronger reaction than expected. I tell you what. I can limit my reading of your mind to the thoughts you intend to share. Till you trust me.”

  “You can do that?” he asked.

  “Do what?” Hansum asked, till Arimus put his hand on his arm to keep him quiet.

  Medeea walked up to Lincoln and looked up to him.

  “Yes, I can limit what I read of your mind. But if this is going to work, and we are to become a team, we must have complete trust. Do you think that eventually you’ll be able to handle that?”

  “Well,” Lincoln thought, “like Arimus says, it’s all about self-knowledge and growing out of why I feel embarrassed . . . it’s a good thing, right?”

  “A very good thing,” Medeea replied.

  “Ya know what?” Lincoln thought, “The heck with it. Take it all, Medeea.” And then he spoke out loud again, and with a flourish, “My mind is your mind. No restrictions.”

  “Bravo!” Arimus said.

  “Yippee,” Medeea trilled.

  “What is going on, please?” Hansum asked.

  “Again, like you, Lincoln is taking great strides quickly.

  Such strides, in fact, I think I may return to Medeea

  what is Medeea.”

  Arimus took the hand-crafted bottle and removed the stopper. He put the rounded lip of the vessel just below his eye.

  “All right, my dear. It was nice communing with you.

  To each I believe the other may be found valuable,

  and for this I deem you both compatible.”

  “Farewell,” bid Medeea.

  Arimus blinked and a single shimmering tear formed in the corner of one of his eyes. It crawled along his cheek and found the bottle’s lip, crept into the opening and plopped back with the rest of itself. The millions of Medeea bits were now reunited.

  “Now it is just you and me,” Medeea said, taking a step closer to Lincoln.

  “You’re a short, little thing, aren’t you?” Lincoln thought. “Even shorter than me.”

  Medeea put a hand on the top of her head, like she was measuring herself against him, and touched the tip of his nose. To Lincoln’s amazement, he could feel it. He jumped and Medeea giggled.

  “It’s all in humans’ heads,” Medeea laughed.

  “I guess you’re right, Medeea. I guess you’re right,” Lincoln said out loud and laughing.

  “Am I going to have to watch Lincoln talking to himself from now on?” Hansum asked Arimus.

  “Perhaps,” Arimus answered. “Sometimes

  a mind-delver and A.I. mentor’s relationship casts

  a special bond that a lifetime lasts.”

  “Oh, we’re going to have a special bond, all right. I can feel that.” Medeea said, and she touched Lincoln on the tip of his nose again.

  “That tickles,” Lincoln said out loud.

  “See?” Hansum said.

  Chapter 2

  Shamira and Kingsley finally made it from the community garden to Arimus’s front door. Hand in hand, Shamira beamed as she looked up at her boyfriend and saw how he was smiling down at her.

  “Lean down,” she told him.

  “Again you’re telling me what to do?” he teased.

  “Now,” she laughed.

  The big man, well over two meters tall, sighed and bent over till he was face to face with Shamira.

  “Do your worst,” he said, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He laughed as he put his massive arms around her and stood up, lifting her clear off the ground, still kissing.

  “Mmmm. You still taste of the honey from the hive.”

  “And I still smart from that sting.”

  “If you’re going to steal the nectar, you’ve got to pay the price.”

  “All day long,” he answered, and they kissed again.

  “Ah, young love,” Arimus’s voice said.

  “From whatever century,

  it always finds its mark.”

  Shamira and Kingsley looked and saw Arimus, Lincoln and Hansum standing in the doorway.

  “Arimus, Hansum, it’s good to see you,” she said as Kingsley gently put her down. She immediately went and gave Hansum a long, meaningful hug. “Oh, Hansum, I really missed you.”

  “I see you two are still up to no good,” Lincoln said to Kingsley. “Young love,” he scoffed merrily. “Young lust, more like it.”

  “One day, young Lincoln,” Kingsley said.

  Lincoln focused into blank space and smiled. “You never know, Kingsley, old boy. You never know.” And then he looked back at the much larger teen. “Kingsley, this is Arimus, our H.C. mentor. And this is Hansum.”

  “I’ve heard so much about both of you,” Kingsley said, shaking hands with Arimus. “It’s nice to finally meet, Elder.”

  “It’s nice to meet you close up,

  though I’ve seen you in action often,

  live on the rugby pitch,” Arimus said.

  “And I’ve gazed upon your sculpture.

  Sublime work of both the male and female forms

  for one so young.”

  “You can’t be an athlete your whole life and I just have to create. I love to chisel away at marble, exposing the form within.”

  “We’re all so glad you and our Shamira found each other.

  Two talents together entwined often invite

  visits by inspiration to take each other to even greater heights.”

  “Thank you, Elder. And it’s so fantastic to meet you, Hansum,” Kingsley said, extending a hand. Hansum wore a melancholy smile as he took the larger youth’s hand. It was like Kingsley and Shamira’s happiness made him sad somehow.

  “I’m very pleased for both of you.” Hansum offered.

  Kingsley held on to Hansum’s hand, staring into his eyes. His smile turned into a sympathetic frown. He reached over with his second hand and grasped Hansum’s arm.

  “Hansum,” he began gently. “I’m so sorry about Guilietta. I hear she was an amazing person, and Sham says they loved each other like sisters.”

  “Thank you, Kingsley,” Hansum answered. “We all loved her.” Hansum’s eyes looked soft, but showed little emotion.

  “The greetings done,

  I must again assume the role of tutor,” Arimus said,

  “and conclude Hansum’s first time-travelling day

  with a test back in time,

  for his progress to be weighed.”

  “Are you going back to Hansum’s childhood again?” Lincoln asked. “Apparently I found toilet training traumatic.”

  “Where are we going, Arimus?” Hansum asked.

  “Again, this may be something you wish kept private,
>
  for it is not a jest, but a serious test of

  your mind’s most vulnerable parts.”

  “Nah, that’s fine. You can tell me here. They’re family.”

  “Very good,” Arimus replied.

  “I am taking Hansum back to 14th-century Verona.”

  “What?” both Lincoln and Shamira said with surprise.

  “Why?” Hansum asked.

  “You are the one most affected by personal loss.

  To assume a History Camp time traveler’s mantle

  we must immediately gauge the stresses

  you can handle.”

  “You mean whether I can handle seeing Guilietta,” Hansum said.

  “Just so, my boy, of course.

  Guilietta is the key as to whether we may set you free

  to relive and, what’s more,

  possibly change what’s gone before.”

  “Oh, dear Gia,” Shamira said, wide-eyed. “You’re going to see Guil.”

  “I wanna go,” Lincoln blurted.

  “Me too,” Shamira added.

  “But you have your own agendas.

  Lincoln, you must practice your new art with Medeea

  and Shamira, your studies of art.”

  Lincoln turned and talked to the empty space beside him.

  “Could we practice mind-delving back then, Medeea? Medeea says yes.”

  “Who’s he talking to?” Shamira asked.

  “His mind-delving mentor,” Hansum said. “Only he can see her.”

  “You’re a mind-delver?” Kingsley asked. “Wow, you’re not just a joker. I’m impressed.”

  “Arimus, can we come with you?” Lincoln asked seriously.

  “It’s not a problem logistically,” Arimus told him.

  “And all the souls there will seem unattended,

  for out of phase we’ll be suspended.”

  “Hansum, do you mind if we tag along?” Lincoln asked.

  “No, not at all. It would be good to have you all there for support. I don’t want to pretend it won’t be a challenge for me.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Arimus replied.

  “And of those last words I’m glad,

  for none could but notice your attempts to hide

  the broil of emotions that in you reside.

  Well done, my son.”

  “Would it be all right if I came too?” Kingsley asked.

  “I don’t mind,” Hansum said. “Elder Arimus?”

  Arimus put up a finger to give him a minute, and then touched a sub-dermal node on his temple. He mumbled for a few seconds, pausing and tilting his head, as if receiving information. Then he nodded and smiled.

  “Kingsley, your dean and A.I. have given permission.

  I have no objection, if you accept my authority

  as the only condition.”

  “Most assuredly, Elder Arimus,” Kingsley said.

  “My gosh, we’re going to see everyone again,” Shamira said. “I’m so excited. And Kingsley, we can go see all sorts of fantastic art and even watch some being made. I know every church and piece of art in Verona, and there’s lots that hasn’t survived that you’ll see firsthand.”

  “An art historian’s dream,” Kingsley agreed. “That’s why I joined.”

  “Very well, then,” Arimus said.

  “Some preparations first.

  Give me a moment.”

  Arimus touched his temple again and closed his eyes, communicating with some unseen and possibly faraway person, maybe in a different time. The others continued chatting.

  “I wonder who we can mind-delve back then,” Lincoln thought aloud, and then he snapped his fingers. “Hey, how ‘bout Ugilino?”

  “Oh, dear Gia,” Shamira laughed.

  “I’m happy you guys are going to be there to help me through this,” Hansum said softly.

  “Your back’s covered, pal,” Lincoln replied, punching him playfully.

  “Yes, we’re all here for you, Hansum,” Shamira agreed, giving him another hug.

  “Okay, Medeea. I’ll ask her,” Lincoln said. “Shamira, Medeea wants me to ask you something privately,” and he came close and whispered in her ear. Shamira’s eyes lit up.

  “Sure,” Shamira said to the space near Lincoln. “Medeea, I’d love to be your friend.”

  Lincoln took out the small hand-crafted bottle from his pocket and carefully poured a drop into the stopper.

  “Medeea says, as friends, there won’t be any deep mind-delving. You two will be able to share only what you want to say. And guys, Med apologizes, but the only males allowed to see her are her students, her family and elders, until she is married.” Kingsley gave Lincoln a wink. Shamira took the cap and downed the liquid.

  “Wow,” she said when Medeea came into her mind’s eye. “You’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Shamira. You too. You looked like a person I’d love as a friend. Guys are great, but . . .”

  “Very well,” Arimus said, rejoining the conversation.

  “The supplies have been sent to me. Gather round.”

  Arimus reached into his cloak and took out a bundle wrapped in a handkerchief. He unfolded it and revealed four biscuits.

  “Now, there’s something familiar,” Lincoln observed.

  “Besides giving back your ancient Italian speaking node,”

  Arimus explained,

  “these morsels of food are truly high tech.

  They’ll form two sub-dermals at the base of each neck.

  The one on the left will whisk you back home to our base.

  The one on the right will bring you in and out of phase.

  These must only be used when a colleague is mired

  in a situation where their circumstances are dire.”

  “So, left whisks us back home to the 24th-century and right brings us in and out of phase. But they’re only to be used in emergencies,” Hansum recapped.

  “Exactly. But coming out of phase, this trip does not include,

  so we shouldn’t have a fear of something going rude.”

  Each took a biscuit and ate it. After a few seconds they could feel new implants developing at the bases of their necks.

  “Now come and take a handful

  of this cloak of mine.

  It’s about to call up a vortex of time.”

  Arimus raised a hand and a whirling vortex formed around the huddled group. Within seconds, thousands of bright yellow spheres, the Sands of Time, appeared out of nowhere. Larger, translucent spheres followed, careening off of each other and whizzing right through the people they encountered. The ground beneath them began to fade, the image below became like something you would see when standing on a frozen pond, peering down at a different world through clear, frozen ice. Except, instead of fish, there was the long tunnel of yellow spheres, a blur speeding off down to a single point, into infinity.

  “All right, my children. Let us . . .”

  And what they were standing on, disappeared.

  They fell.

  If Hansum was going to succeed and be allowed the chance of saving Guilietta and the della Cappas, there was so much he needed to know about time travel. The other day he had asked Arimus a number of questions; how their bodies knew to stay balanced in the vortex, if they were going at the speed of light and, if they were traveling through folded time/space, why did it seem that they were falling straight? And how the heck could they stop so easily, alighting on the ground as smoothly as you pleased?

  “All in due time.

  If you pass your initial tests,

  you will meet tutors from many futures.

  They will share such knowledge with you,

  although there is much they can’t.”

  “If I pass my initial tests? You don’t sound confident that I’ll succeed,” Hansum said, half joking.

  “My job is not to give false confidence and

  I would not be your mentor if I was not among your fans.

  For soon the time
of your testing will come, and I say,

  if the whisper of a butterfly’s wings unfurled

  can influence the winds and change the world,

  why not you?”

  The image of the butterfly beating its wings and changing the course of the winds, and thus history, stayed with Hansum. He thought of it often.

  ‘And my time of testing is here,’ Hansum thought as they streaked through the time tunnel, the deep rumble making crosstalk difficult.

  Hansum looked around at the others, their arms out from their sides, all balancing themselves as they fell through time. Lincoln had a broad smile, like he was enjoying surfing a primo wave. Shamira was holding hands with the much larger Kingsley. The gentle giant was floating more gracefully than Hansum imagined someone his size could. Arimus too looked serene. Then he turned and looked straight at Hansum. He held a hand up, spreading all five fingers, then four, then three, then . . .

  ‘I’m going to see Guilietta,’ Hansum thought. Suddenly his mind literally could not form thoughts.

  Two fingers, one finger.

  Chapter 3

  The last time Hansum saw the della Cappa home, it was an inferno. The Master, in his drunken grief over Guilietta’s death, knocked over the brass oil lamp Hansum had given him, setting the straw floor, and then the house, on fire. Hansum and Lincoln tried to save the Master and Signora, but were dragged from the house by neighbors trying to arrest them. Within minutes the old structure was engulfed and flames were bursting through the second-floor bedroom window. This was where the dead Guilietta lay. In Hansum’s last vision of the place, he and Lincoln were running for their lives. The butchers, Ugilino and Father Lurenzano were chasing them. Hansum had turned as he ran and had seen the pursuers silhouetted in the fireball of what had been his medieval family’s home, now his wife’s funeral pyre.

  As Arimus’s hand flashed one finger, Hansum closed his eyes. He had relived that terrible memory on a daily basis. And now, as he felt the quick deceleration, he feared what he would find when he opened them.

  “We’re here,” he heard Arimus say.

  “But remember, we’re out of phase.