Janet

A Chapter by Sharrumkin

Janet Gleason meets a lady called Louise.

Chapter Two

Janet

To understand time travel one that one and one may result in three.

Matthew Foley p.1 A Brief Guide to Time Travel

For millenia the elders had toiled to restore the planet to what it had been before industrialization had ravaged it. They had brought back once extinct species. They had restored the fertility of the land, cleansed the waters and purified the air. What they could not do was to replace the fossil fuels that had fed the Industrial Revolution.

Benjamin Dzingira p.17 The Early Years

Every morning at six Janet Gleason would leave her one room bedroom apartment on Carlton Street and begin her morning jog. The frigid January weather would not stop her run. Clad in red ski jacket with Trent University emblazoned on the back, her hair protected by a red and yellow toque, thick snow mitts and snow boots, she challenged the cold grey morning. She jogged towards the great concrete arch that spanned the Trent River. A thick coat of frost clung to the black railing. She slowed and glanced down at the sidewalk and searched for ice. Not much point jogging if it resulted in a broken leg. Her portable CD player let Dvorak’s New World Symphony flow through her mind. Soon she would be over the bridge. She followed her usual route, a quick run down Main Street to the Federal Building and then back across the bridge to home. Then shower, change, breakfast and then she would drive to her father’s store … Gleason’s Collectibles: Fine Antiques and Gifts. With her parents away on holiday in Barbados she was now the entire staff, not that there was much business this time of year.

Between her concern for the ice, the music and her thoughts about her parents and the store, Janet never noticed the man and woman that appeared at the atop of the arch. If she had she would have concluded that an old man and his daughter were out for the early morning air. She passed the couple without looking at them. Having crossed the bridge she continued down an empty Main Street. Passing the Trent River Inn she ignored the street ignoring a red light. Her mind told her that this was a silly, even dangerous thing to do but her legs told her not to break her stride. There being no cars in sight she followed her legs. She passed the great stone cross, the memorial to the district’s dead of the two world wars. She did not give the memorial a glance. Pointless deaths from pointless wars.

�-��-��-�

Louise looked down at the retreating woman. It would be another ten or fifteen minutes before she would return.

“I’ve forgotten how cold it can get here,” said Matthew.

“I must get you home.” Louise could feel the shivering of his body and the wheezing of his voice. “You should not have come.”

He nodded his head but did not look away from the approaching runner. “A fine woman. A fine woman.”

“Yes,” said Louise. She should not have brought him her but he had insisted. “Come Matthew. It’s time to go. Please.” A gust of wind sent dry snow swirling in front of Janet. The frigid blast stung her face. Rising in front of her was the bridge’s great arch. A delivery truck topped the bridge. As it descended she could see a woman standing alone on top of the bridge. For the third time Louise told herself that she was making a mistake. It would be better, much better, just to leave things as they were. Yet … after all these years she could not forget that she had lied to win Matthew’s support. The driving force behind his building of the time portal had been to save his sister, the one thing that he could not and should not do. According to the records of her time Susan Foley had died a drug addict a prostitute stabbed to death, her body thrown into a trash container by an unknown killer. The Susan Foley that Matthew had loved could not be restored to him. The woman that they had rescued had nothing in her left of his sister. Louise had known that long before meeting Matthew. Yet she had allowed him to keep believing that he could save his sister so that she could get what she had wanted from him. Now he lay dying; lover, student, teacher, friend.

Liar.

Since she had been very young Louise had understood certain basic facts about herself. She was a creature of logic, prizing efficiency and fact. Yet, buried beneath her jacket and sweater she could feel the cold weight of the firestone. There had to be something else. She had seen that belief shimmering in Richard’s eyes. She watched as the runner approached the bridge. There were times when she hated what she had to do. This was not one of those times. The woman was gone when Janet reached the bridge. She did not notice the envelope until almost at the top of the arch. Green with gold trim the envelope had been taped to the bridge railing. Janet would probably have left it there except that printed on it in large black letters was her name. She slowed and then stopped. Could someone be playing a practical joke on her? Then, curiosity overcoming caution, she plucked it off the railing. Inside she found a short note.

Meet me at the Trent River Inn Coffee Shop at 8 A.M.

Nothing more. Try as she might Janet could find no sign of a signature on either paper or letter. She surmised from the neatness and delicacy of the handwriting that it was a woman’s hand but the identity of the writer eluded her. Why would someone pick such an odd means of trying to communicate? Best to ignore it. Stuffing the letter into a pocket of her parka she resumed her jogging. Mummified remains of bass, trout and pickerel shared the walls of the cafe with reproductions of old posters devoted to pedaling a carbonated drink. Bowing to Matthew’s insistence Louise had tried it once. Once had been enough. She looked out the window at the street. Janet might not come. She might have jogged past the envelope without seeing it. She might have seen it and decided to ignore it. A gust of wind might have blown it free of the bridge. The mights multiplied with each moment that crept past.

Is this what it came down to she asked herself. All her training, her years of experience and she remained as ignorant as a band of Neanderthals huddled in a cave terrified of the noises in the dark. Unwarranted interference? Of course it was. It had always been that. Dennis and Alicia Gleason, both retired mainlander agents had not wanted to be Janet's parents. Matthew and Louise had insisted. Out of respect for Matthew the two had been reluctant to refuse outright. Matthew and Louise would provide memories, documents and knowledge. All the Gleasons would have to provide would be a home and a name. Dennis and Alicia had listened to the proposal and then after a moment's silence had begun to raise several questions. The first one he always used when faced with an unfamiliar situation. So, what's in it for us?"

Within a few minutes Dennis had raised another point. "Childhood friends, people who knew her?" Dennis protested. "You can't just make them up. What if she wants to look them up sometime?" "You moved around a lot? You spent a great deal of time overseas. People lose track of each other. It happens." Inwardly Louise could only agree with him that over a long period of time this would not work. But she only had to make it work for a short while. The four of them, the Gleasons, Matthew and she had sat around the Gleason's dining table to develop the means by which Susan Foley could be transformed into Janet Gleason. Implanting false memories consisted of two stages. The first was the creation of the event and implanting it. "Fairly simple" said Louise. "The difficult part is giving the false memory a sense of depth. The reason why dreams fall apart under examination is that they have no sense of being part of a greater whole. We must make her believe that what she remembers is part of an actual life."

"How do you do that," asked Dennis. "

"By using the same tool that nature uses, time." "Neighbours and friends" asked Alicia.

"Won't they consider the sudden appearance of a daughter rather strange." Louise flicked a fly off her napkin. "You've only just settled here yourselves. They know nothing of your background. Why shouldn't you have a daughter?" For years Alicia had watched the administrators and agents of the agency go about their important missions, while she, a simple clerk had sat at her desk. They had always seemed so certain about themselves and their work. Matthew and Louise reminded her of that sense of confidence .seemed to "Will time convince us that this stranger is our daughter?"

Louise shrugged. "It may. We can of course implant memories in you to help strengthen your belief. It is important that you make the first days with you seem as real and as natural as possible." Matthew said nothing. Alicia looked down at the brown earthenware mug between her fingers. She should have known better than to think that one could retire from this business. “Not being content to meddle with one person’s mind, you wish to do it with others.”

“That was always part of our work? You know that.”

“It was never part of mine.”

Saving lives was.” “Yes.” Maybe the agency had a point when it had warned against meddling. She looked at Dennis. Dennis was leaning back in his chair his eyes half-closed in thought. Many years before, he had walked the streets of ancient Rome. Now advancing arthritis made it difficult for him to walk down to the local corner store. “I always wanted to have a daughter.” “Until they take her away,” said Alicia. She had been the one who had come up with the name of Janet. “My mother’s name” she had told them. The others had agreed.

�-��-��-�

Janet woke. Her skin was aware of the gentle warm weight of soft clean blankets. Her eyes watered from the white light filling her bedroom. She stretched and turned under the blankets. Such a strange dream. An old man, a very old man had kept calling her Susan. Again and again she had repeated that her name was Janet. The old man did not seem to hear her.

Odd the dreams one has. Her mother and father had been there, They had told the old man her name was Janet. The man had not listened. Susan he had said, again and again. She opened her eyes. The dream faded giving way to more practical needs. Rubbing her eyes with her right hand she shuffled towards the bathroom. The water streamed down over her face. She groped for the soap to find her hand touching the tiled wall. She felt along the wall until she reached the soap container three feet to the left of where she thought it would be. Assuming that her morning grogginess was the cause of the confusion Janet checked to her right .Finding the soap she resumed her shower. Janet rubbed away the white mist coating the mirror. As she dried her hair she considered the day that lay before her. Mom planned to go into Belleville for shopping. She would go with her more out of a sense of duty then out of any real desire to buy anything Her hair no longer damp she switched off the hairdryer. As she placed the dryer on the counter Janet looked at the face in the mirror. The dream she had of the old man had receded and now was almost forgotten.

�-��-��-�

Louise touched the small package wrapped in green paper. She thought of her first meeting with Matthew. She had been so confident almost arrogant. Now? Then she had been offering to give him a life. Now she would be trying to destroy a life. She had asked Dennis and Alicia to join her thinking that it might be easier for Janet. She had not received a reply.

At seven minutes past eight Janet entered the café. No longer clad in a jogging suit she had dressed for the shop. Whoever she found waiting for her, if there was anyone, would not change the fact that she had to be at the shop within the next half hour. She took a quick look about. Apart from Agnes Smedly who ran the lunchroom the only other person there was a middle-aged woman in a black overcoat sipping a cup of tea. She strode over to the woman and dropped the envelope on the table. She then pulled back the hood of her parka revealing close-cropped black hair. Small diamond studs decorated her ear lobes.

Alicia had told Louise that Janet was not overly fond of jewelry. That disinterest extended to books, to art, to music, to travel and apparently even to sex. Sports, children, her home, these seemed to be Janet's overriding interests; very different from Susan Foley. How much of that difference had resulted from the removal of memories or from a deep-seated reaction to what she had once been? There was no way of knowing.

Knowing that if she were wrong she would both look and sound ridiculous Janet asked, “Excuse me. You left this for me?”

Louise nodded. “You’re late. Would you like some tea?”

Janet found the woman’s casualness to be the oddest part of this odd situation. “I don’t know who you are or what you want but I have to be at work in thirty minutes. Would you tell me what this is all about beginning with who you are.”

That at least reminded Louise of Matthew. “Of course.” She stood and extended her right hand. “Louise. Louise Miller. I have come a long way to see you Miss Gleason. A very long way. Tell me. Do you enjoy your life?”

“Yes I do. Very much.” But what did that have to do with the woman?

Louise nodded. Matthew would be glad to hear that. Teaching had been his choice for Janet Once the choice had been made all Louise had to do was to insert the proper information into the proper computer banks, implant the appropriate memories and print off the necessary documents. The problem was not what had lain behind but what lay ahead. Matthew had believed her because he had longed to know that time travel; was possible. Susan Foley and Janet Gleason had no interest in time travel. The Gleasons had done nothing to discourage this disinterest.

If Louise were to raise the notion Janet would consider her to be mad. Somehow she would have to make Janet aware of her past. The grown woman, Janet Gleason was only seventh months old. Her new life had begun at the sound of an alarm clock. An unconscious form had been placed into a bed in the Gleason's home, a room filled with memoirs of an unlived life. With the ringing of the alarm, Susan Foley had awakened to a new life. Revealing herself to Matthew had been simplicity itself compared to revealing herself to Janet. The best way thing to do would be to let Janet discover the truth herself with just a little nudge to move her onto the trail.

“Good.” She handed Janet the package. “This is for you. Look at it when you are alone in a secure place. Now if you’ll excuse me, I'll go to the ladies. I won’t be long.”

“I only have a few minutes. If you could just tell me what this is about.” “Soon. Soon.” She nodded rose and then walked off towards the ladies room.

Ten minutes passed. Janet looked at her watch. She could not risk waiting any longer. Should she leave the woman a note? As she waited she had fingered the package. It felt heavy. Flat and square in shape, it reminded her of her portable CD player. Jane decided to tell this Miss Bascombe that she was going. In the small ladies room she found the stall to be empty. She stepped out of the bathroom and glanced at the end of the hallway to see if there was another exit. The hallway ended in a solid wall. Puzzled she stepped back out into the dining room.

“Agnes, the lady who was having tea, did she go out the back way?” Agnes looked up from her newspaper. “Can’t do that without going through the kitchen. I would have seen her. Anyway she paid her bill.”

“But … she must have.” Agnes shrugged and went back to her paper Not knowing what else to do Janet picked up the package and left. Later that morning as she wiped a display of silver spoons she considered the strange woman. Had she been a lunatic? Possible. But what had she done? She had delivered a package and then somehow had left. Probably she had slipped out through the kitchen without Agnes noticing it. Strange yes, but not insane. As for the package itself she would investigate that when she got home.

That afternoon as the day darkened she sped home in her cherry red Mazda GLC. While waiting at a red light she glanced at her briefcase. Under it lay the package she had received from the Louise woman. After she had returned to her apartment Janet made herself a cup of tea. She turned on the radio and to the mellifluous voice of Joachim Goethe. As she listened she changed into blue jeans and white shirt. Then Janet prepared her supper popping a Dinner- Lite tray of roast pork into the microwave. After supper she showered and put on her pajamas robe and slippers. Cross legged she sat on her bed and dried her hair. Only after she had switched off her hair dryer did Janet open the package. A rectangular metal box, ten centimetres long, six centimetres wide and four centimetres thick.

There seemed to be a small round lens in front. On top was a black keypad of nine white numbers, twenty-six white letters and two dials, the left black, the right red. There were no wires, no sign of a battery case or solar cells. She touched the black dial. Nothing happened. She touched the red. A small beam shot out of the lens striking off the wall of her kitchen. The wall disappeared. Instead of a wall she saw a street scene. Billowing gusts of snow whipped pedestrians as they hurried down a street. A red streetcar rattled by. A new form of video machine thought. The images seemed so three dimensional.

“It’s a window.” said a voice. Janet turned to see Louise sitting on the edge of her bed. The blankets were dampening from the melting snow on the woman's white overcoat. "I'm sorry for intruding but a long time from now I learned that the only way most people can understand something is to experience it themselves, something like learning to ride a bicycle I suppose. Do you see the woman standing on the corner?" Janet glanced at a woman in a shabby green woollen overcoat edged with synthetic fur. She seemed to be walking back and forth as if waiting for someone. A black pickup truck slowed and stopped. A window lowered and the woman began talking to the occupant. Something about the woman seemed familiar to Janet but most of her interest remained with the woman sitting on her bed. "How did you get in here?" "I did say that I would be seeing you soon. How did I get in here? The door is still locked. See for yourself. Shouldn't the question be how did you get here?"

"I'm going to call the police immediately unless you leave. I don't know who you are or what you want but if you …" "The police."

The woman smiled. "We wouldn't want to bother them, would we?" She was gone the only sign that she had ever been the dampness on Janet's blankets. Janet was still trying to absorb the woman's sudden disappearance when she felt a sudden chill. A gust of snow stung her face. "A window can also be a point of entry." Louise held out an overcoat to her. The warm comfortable bedroom was now a lamp lit street down which the winter wind gusted.

Islanders Amazon Press

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