47. Brother, I'm Far Away from Everything

Mateo seemed astonishingly well-adjusted to living in another time entirely, and another country on top of that. He’d settled into Station X, biding his time, impatiently at first, for a chance to share his knowledge.

But as spring and summer and then autumn had passed with no immediate opportunity, he had settled in more, making cordial friendships with the Wrens he worked alongside, joining that walking club, accidentally charming people, playing cards with various acquaintances, and even attending the improvised church. He hadn’t even known at first that nearly all of its parishioners were not-ill-favored female code breakers. He’d told Nigel that he missed church and just wanted to do some normal things in this abnormal time. Nigel could hardly fault him there.

Although as midwinter closed in, he seemed more withdrawn. Cheerful enough at work, but more out of his own sense of American etiquette than real feeling. Maybe he got melancholy as the days grew darker, as some did, or maybe it was something else. He avoided anything social in his off hours and spent most of his time in his bunk. He was cheery with Nigel, maybe too cheery. Nigel was unsure what, if anything, to do. He presumably didn’t want to be wrapped in cotton wool, but he was a useful resource with his morale in the gutter, not to mention a friend.

In the end, he didn’t work up the nerve to approach him in that vein until after New Year’s. If Christmas and New Year’s parties hadn’t actually cheered him, they’d at least distracted him. But now in the damp limbo between winter and spring, he’d returned to sleeping (or pretending to sleep) through his days off. Frequently he wouldn’t bother to get up to eat until the following work day.

“I’m not going to starve, mom,” he’d said tetchily when Nigel ventured to bring it up. “I’m just catching up on sleep.” He was perfectly professional at work, even if he seemed to find it more of a strain.

And as fate would have it, the enemy had the bright idea, that February, to bolt an extra wheel onto their enigma machines. Suddenly the codes took a good twenty-five times as long to crack, sending everybody scrambling. What they desperately needed was something faster. Smaller, like Mateo’s devices, was all well and good, but right now he didn’t care if it took up the whole wing of the house if it was faster. Cheering him up suddenly took on an urgent practical reason as well as the loyalty of a friend — the last thing they needed was an ally from the future, however hardworking or dedicated, shuffling round like a zombi.

It was early spring when Nigel said, bluntly “Let’s go on a walk. I need to clear my head.”

Mateo grunted from under his blanket, some excuse of a book propped up against the wall, but his good manners won out, just as Nigel was counting on.

He led him off on a meandering path under the blue sky into an open bit of the grounds. The grass hadn’t yet grown to summer height, and there were no trees or hedges within earshot.

“There. We can talk freely.”

“Fine, what do you want to—“

“Is this about your wormhole?”

Mateo had been gazing vaguely at a starling picking over the grass some distance away. At this, he startled and raised his head. “What?”

“Isn’t that what you called it? The ... distortion that you came out of.”

Mateo seemed to regain his balance. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s a, uh, it’s called a wormhole. But —“ and then he crumbled, putting his hands in his coat pockets and turning away. His voice sounded dreadful. “I’d gotten used to this. You know, back at 020 and then when I first came here.” He looked away, still. “I guess I had other stuff on my mind. Like, ok, getting dragged back in time sucks bigtime, but I was more worried about not getting shot or whatever. I guess I just decided here I was in the past and I was stuck and might as well deal.”

Nigel looked at him. “You don’t know how it worked, then?”

Mateo shook his head. “No, nobody does. I guess.” He sighed. “I guess I have more time to think now that things are going good for me here. If I live, should I...I don’t know, try and catch up with people I know when I hit the time they’re alive in?”

“That sounds ... sort of horrible.”

“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? Also kinda horrible to know they’re out there and I can’t talk to them. My family and friends and stuff. When they’re born. Ugh...when I’m born. Maybe.” He rubbed his eye. “I dunno, I guess it just caught up with me, sorry.”

“Daft of you, nothing to be sorry for.”

Mateo gave him a weak smile that died fast. “And like, man, I’m a total exile. Home doesn’t even exist now, not really. And I can’t tell anybody. Like, I know I need to help out with C...with the computer stuff any way I can, but ... other than that? After the war?” He glanced away. “Sorry to gripe.”

That gave Nigel pause. “Worse than most top secret things, now that you mention it.”

“...I keep thinking. What if it is there? What if I can get back one day? It’s like living in two times at once, man. I can’t commit. I just wish I knew. You know, if I can go home after the war, like people do. I keep dreaming that I wake up back home, or that I keep running after the wormhole. ...being stuck in the past I could deal with. I just ... want to know if the wormhole’s been opening up there all the time and I just haven’t known it. Every time I see something out of the corner of my eye I think it’s a wormhole for a sec. And I’m not sure if I’m glad or scared.” He breathed out. “I just wish I knew, so I could really plan. Like, pick one. If it’s gone, ok, I can make a good life here.”

Nigel gave him a crooked smile. “If we’re not all killed in an invasion.”

“Ok, yeah, there’s that.” He got a flicker of a smile back in trade. “Sorry I’m such a wet blanket.”

“Fair enough. So let’s go look for the field you landed in. That will at least give you some idea of how things stand.”

“Huh...ok. Could we?”

Nigel shrugged. “We can certainly try.”

Next