Time Snatchers by Richard Ungar Read Free Book Online Page A

one are covered with plywood. At the center of each boarded-up window is a small wooden box. I know from the briefing materials that the box is called a camera obscura and that when light passes into it from outside and hits the metal plate inside the box, this triggers some kind of chemical reaction, causing an image of whatever the camera is pointing at to form on the plate.
    In the dim light, I almost miss seeing him. But there he is, bent over a contraption resting on a table in a far corner of the room—Nicéphore Niépce. He looks exactly like his file holo—aquiline nose and bald as a bowling ball. Like his brother, he’s elegantly dressed in a waistcoat and high-collar white shirt.
    Without looking up, he shouts, “Come quickly, Claude, the image is beginning to form!”
    But Claude seems more interested in looking out the only window that hasn’t been boarded up.
    “My God, the clouds are about to burst open! They will be here soon!” he says.
    I ignore Claude and stride over to where Nicéphore is bent over a metal plate fixed in a vertical position over a silver basin. He has a glass in one hand and is slowly pouring its green liquid contents over the plate. As he does this, a dark rectangle emerges on the plate’s silver surface.
    “Do you see how clear the image is?” says Nicéphore without glancing up. “Half a glass of bitumen of Judea with a few drops of lavender oil, that’s the key! Such a mixture is much superior to silver chloride. And do you know what is best of all, Claude? The weather does not matter!”
    Well, it may not matter to you, but it sure has your brother worried. I don’t especially want to be here when Claude announces that the three-colored ones are seeping into the house through cracks in the walls.
    I gaze at the image as it continues to form on the plate and compare it against the one in my mission file. This is definitely it—the side of the barn is taking shape and a bit of the pigeon house too.
    You can’t beat a moment like this. Here I am watching the world’s first photograph develop. Too bad Abbie is missing it.
    “Two hooks hold the plate in place,” I relay over my mindpatch. “You won’t need a tool, but you’ll have to make sure you hook the replica in exactly the same way. Also, the plate has to be wet. You’ll see two glasses on the table. I’m pretty sure the one on the left has water in it. Once you have the replica hooked in, pour some water over it.”
    “Got it,” she mindspeaks.
    I glance back at her in admiration. Of all the classic yoga poses, I like pine tree the best, but there’s no way I can hold it as long as Abbie. I’m about to suggest that she try some other kind of tree to give her muscles a break, when Claude yells, “Nicéphore!”
    Nicéphore looks up and sees me standing next to him.
    “Who are you?” he asks.
    “My name is Robert,” I say. “I am your brother Bernard’s wife’s sister’s son.”
    “Oh,” says Nicéphore, sounding about as excited as someone who has just watched a button fall off of his pantaloons.
    “Nicéphore, it is starting! We must take action!” Claude shouts.
    Nicéphore sighs and walks over to where Claude is by the window.
    “There is nothing there,” says Nicéphore, in a weary tone that suggests this is not the first time he has uttered these words to his brother.
    “Snatch time,” I mindspeak, and see Abbie already moving quickly toward the worktable.
    “Look carefully, my brother. The tricolored beings are clever. They hide in the rain.”
    “I am looking carefully. The only things out there are trees,” says Nicéphore.
    Abbie is standing over the worktable and pulling out the replica. This is the critical moment. If either brother glances back right now, she’ll be caught red-handed.
    I run up to where the men are standing and point to the sky. “There!” I say. “One of the tricolored beings. I see him!”
    Claude and Nicéphore crane their necks in the direction I’m