Future Threat

22

“You can take this car,” Adam says to Chris.

“Gee, thanks,” Chris says, and kicks one of the fast-food containers across the floor toward Adam. “Give me the one that smells like the bathroom inside a KFC.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask. “I still think it should be me who goes after Ken.”

His eyes are determined as they meet mine. “No. I need to do this.”

I nod slowly and rest my hand on his arm. “Let us know if you need help. And bring him back alive.”

He gives me a quick squeeze. “I will. You two stay safe.”

“Good luck,” Adam says, and they clasp hands briefly.

We climb out, and the door slides shut. Chris gives us a solemn nod before the car rises into the air and shoots off, heading east. Splitting up is the only way to save Ken, but as the car disappears across the sky, I can’t help but wonder if we’re making a huge mistake.

01:39

“Your cars are ready,” Wombat says as two cars glide in front of us, one black and one white. “I’ve transferred the keys to your flexis. Do you need anything else?”

“I don’t think so,” Adam says.

“Then I’ll bounce.” He shakes Adam’s hand, and then mine. “It was mega to meet you both. I can’t wait to tell—” He stops himself and slams his mouth shut.

“Tell who?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Tell your future selves.” He grins, but it’s obvious that’s not what he was going to say. “And hey, don’t forget to track me down in twenty-eight years or so.”

He gives us a little wave and then starts walking down the street toward the Future Visions Industries building, whistling a quiet tune as he goes. We both stare after him for a full minute, until he disappears from sight.

“That was strange,” Adam says. “Seeing Wombat again. I didn’t even recognize him at first.”

“Everything about this future is strange.”

“It is. But I like this future a lot better than the other one we saw.”

“It’s nice to not be dead for a change,” I admit.

Adam wraps his arms around me with a smile. “You’re alive. We started a company together. But the best part is that we’re—”

“Don’t,” I say, slipping out of his embrace.

His smile drops. “What is it?”

“I just…” I turn away from him, my throat closing up. “I can’t get used to the idea of us…you know.”

“Is it that hard to believe you’d marry me?” he asks, and I can hear the frustration and pain in his voice.

“No. Hard to believe you’d want me to.”

“Why? You know I care about you. You’re the one who keeps pushing me away.”

He’s right, and I’m an i***t for doing it, but it’s like I’m on a self-destruct sequence and can’t seem to turn it off. I scrub my hands over my face. “Can we talk about this once we get back to the present? I can’t think right now. When the mission is over, we can figure all this out and what it means for us.”

“Yeah. Sure. Once we get back.”

I can tell he’s hurt, but he doesn’t walk away. He doesn’t get mad. He’s nothing like the men I grew up with, and it surprises me every time when he doesn’t react the way I expect him to. Yet I keep pushing him away, even after all we’ve been through. Why is it so hard for me to let him in? Or to accept that we might be together in the future?

“I’m sorry,” I say, even though my throat is tight and each word is a struggle. “I care about you too. I just suck at this relationship stuff.”

“It’s okay. Like you said, some things can’t be rushed.” He gives me a slight smile. “But I’m willing to wait.”

The sincerity in his voice breaks me, and I move into his arms. He holds me against him, his body warm and solid, and I tilt my head up to his. His eyes search mine for a moment before our lips meet. Our kiss is tentative and soft, like we’re both asking permission from the other. But soon my eyes flutter shut and I grip his shirt, holding on as I’m swept away to a place that only Adam has ever taken me, the one place I feel safe and loved.

He rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed. For a long moment we stand there, our breaths moving in and out as one, and I regret this decision to split up.

“We should go,” I finally say.

“Be careful.”

“You too.”

I give him one last kiss and then head for the black car. The digital key in my flexi unlocks the doors as I approach, and I slip inside. This one has a soft blue glow inside, like mood lighting, and reclining leather seats. Not a bad way to travel. Plus, it doesn’t smell like fried chicken.

While Adam gets in the white car, I enter the address of Zahra’s mother’s house. I wave at him while my car takes off, and I say a silent prayer that nothing bad happens to him. My breath hitches as the car rises up, as I leave the city below me. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that feeling, or the sight of the ground disappearing at rapid speed.

Adam’s car is right behind mine as we move into traffic, but it soon darts off in a different direction, heading north while I go west. As I zoom through the city, I start to notice an order to the invisible lanes. The ones high in the sky are like freeways, with the cars zipping about at top speeds and for longer distances, while closer to the ground the cars move slower and tend to take more turns or dart off to land.

The skyscrapers of downtown give way to the mix of modern and art deco buildings of Koreatown, where each shop has flashing signs in Spanish, Korean, and English. Below us, old-fashioned cars and buses drive along the street like in the present, with no wings to lift them off the ground. I run a search in my flexi and learn that flying cars are still fairly new and expensive enough that many people don’t own them yet, and that public transportation in LA is still mostly grounded as well. Class inequality is still alive and well in LA, no matter how much things have changed over the years.