Free Journey Through the Mirrors by T. R. Williams Page B

Mexico.”
    “What?” Mr. Perrot’s thoughts immediately turned to his daughter, Logan, and the children. “Is everyone all right?”
    “Logan said that Jamie fell and may have hit her head inside a pyramid at Teoti—” Jasper had trouble pronouncing the name. “Wherever they are. Jamie’s in serious condition; they are at the hospital now. Logan said that Mexico City is a mess. The earthquake caused a ton of damage to the outskirts of the city. The hospitals are flooded with wounded people. They’re going to get back as soon as they can once Jamie’s condition is stabilized.” Jasper pulled out his own PCD and brought up and projected a news report.
    “Reports of earthquakes are still coming in from around the world,” the news anchor said. “Thus far, twelve reports have crossed our desk here at the studio. Scientists are baffled by the sudden quakes and are unable to identify their magnitudes and the locations of their epicenters. An inside source is telling us that the E-QON II system, which was put in place after the Great Disruption to predict seismic activity, appears to have failed. President Salize of the NAF urges people to remain calm, despite speculation among local authorities in the hardest-hit areas that these quakes are a precursor to another Great Disruption–class event.”
    Mr. Perrot watched the report in disbelief. He was well aware of the events leading up to the Great Disruption and the enormous pain and suffering it had imposed on the world. It can’t be happening again . . .

7
Believers are in a perpetual state of anticipation. Stop believing, and know.
    —THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA
    CHÂTEAU DUGAN, SWISS ALPS, 1:08 A.M. LOCAL TIME, MARCH 21, 2070
    “Any word on how much longer we need to stay here?” said a young WCF agent, as he zipped up his jacket. “This is not what I expected on my first assignment.”
    “Don’t complain,” an older agent advised. “At least you’re not sitting behind a desk. This is how many of our assignments go. You’ve been watching too many HoloPad dramas.”
    The younger agent looked out over the large lake, which bordered the north side of Château Dugan. He and his partner stood on a wooden dock that stretched twenty meters into the water. A thick, chilly fog hovered over the surface of the lake. Their only companions were a band of coyotes howling in a dense forest to the west and an owl that hooted occasionally as it searched for a midnight meal. The young agent turned and gazed at the grand stone stairway that traversed four terraces and led to the main house at the top of a hill. “How does someone get so rich?” he asked, as he adjusted the rifle slung over his shoulder.
    “It’s all family money,” the other agent replied. “The Hitchlordses were rich before the Great Disruption, and somehow they stayed that way.”
    “I heard Simon Hitchlords gave a lot of money to charities and foundations.”
    “Yeah, that’s the story.”
    “You don’t believe it?”
    “If he was such a good guy, why are we guarding his estate? I heard that members of our NAF team were after him in India, and before they could arrest him, he fell into some kind of fire pit.” The agent shook his head. “I think he committed suicide.”
    “Now, see,” the young agent said, “that’s a good assignment. Why can’t we do something like that instead of standing out here?”
    “You can take it up with Colette in the morning,” the older agent said. Then something caught his ear. He walked to the end of the dock, drawing his weapon. The younger agent followed him. “Do you hear that? Sounds like a boat motor.”
    Following his partner’s lead, the younger agent readied his rifle. “I can’t see a thing through this fog.”
    The two of them listened to the sound as it grew louder. The boat emerging out of the fog was smaller than they had expected. “Stop!” the older agent shouted. “Stop, or we’ll shoot.” The boat was close enough now for