Chronica by Paul Levinson Read Free Book Online Page B

abroad and bankrupt. He is $100,000 in debt – I offered to help but he is a proud man. And in addition to all of that, he's taking the death of his daughter Susy very hard—"

    "An inflammation of the meninges, she was just twenty-four," Appleton said, gravely. "Truly tragic."

    "Yes," Astor said. "And then I thought – there may be someone better than Clemens, someone with the necessary training in Greek, in science, and the possible science of time travel, even more so than Samuel Clemens. He came out with a book just last year – a scientific romance, much better than I could ever write – The Time Machine , do you know it?"

    Now Sierra smiled, not only to hide the turmoil within but in appreciation of the absurdity, by any rational standard, of this conversation. "Yes, by H. G. Wells, of course!"

    ***

    Astor briefly made the case for Wells. "He is young – just thirty years of age, two years younger than me. His writing is vibrant. He clearly is energetic, more so than a man of Clemens' age, and— Oh, forgive me," he said to Appleton, "I didn't mean to suggest—"

    Appleton waved away the apology. "No offense taken. I am sure Mr. Wells does have more energy than Samuel Clemens, than I do, and certainly more than Mr. Jowett." He chuckled at his own joke.

    Astor smiled, stood, reached across the table and clapped Appleton on the shoulder. "So we're in agreement that we should contact Mr. Wells about this translation? I can telegraph him as soon as I leave." He gave a quick, perfunctory look at Sierra and Max.

    "Yes . . . ," Appleton said slowly, also looking at Sierra and Max. "He is apparently a man of the future, which would make him ideal to translate Heron's strange book."

    Sierra looked at Max, and realized there was no point in opposing Wells, certainly not now, and maybe not at all. She nodded her head yes.

    Max did the same. "Makes sense to me."

    "Good!" Astor beamed and started to take his leave. "Where are the two of you staying, if I might be so intrusive as to ask?" he suddenly asked Sierra and Max. "I have the perfect place for you," he said, before either replied. "The William Waldorf Astor, my cousin's hotel – just a hop, skip, and a jump from here, on Fifth Avenue and 34 th Street. I'm building a better one, right next to it, but it's the best you can do right now." He pulled a fountain pen from a pocket on one side of his jacket, and a little writing pad from the other side. He tore a piece of paper from the pad, scribbled upon it, and handed the result to Sierra. "Just present this at the front desk. You'll be shown a highly comfortable room."

    Appleton nodded, seeing the extent to which Astor was enjoying playing the host. Sierra nodded as well. She still had misgivings about being too close to Astor and his fate on the Titanic, but putting up too much resistance at this point would make Astor even more likely to take notice of her and Max.

    "Thank you," she said with mustered brightness.  

    ***

    Sierra was in Max's arms later that night, after the two had said goodbye to Appleton for the day, after Astor had left.

    "I don't know," Sierra said, softly. "I feel like ever since we saved those scrolls, everything's been moving too quickly, spinning out of our control. First Biden in our future, now Astor and H. G. Wells back here. Those two are wild cards."

    "But what's the alternative?" Max asked, and stroked her hair. "If we hadn't taken the Chronica , that would have left Heron free to shut off the time travel completely, to control it in any way he wanted, whenever he pleased. It would exist just in novels and movies, or only in Heron's hands, and we would have no way of improving the world."

    "I know," Sierra said. "It's just, so far, I'm not sure that anything I've done, we've done, has improved much of anything." She stretched up to Max's lips and kissed them. "Except maybe me and you."

    "Thanks." Max laughed and slapped her gently on her naked backside.

    "This hotel is