Free City Beyond Time: Tales of the Fall of Metachronopolis by John C. Wright Page B

fear and dread.
    She thought: Is becoming this old wreck all I have to look forward to?
    The older woman clutched her arm. “You've got to promise me you won't marry him! It's not worth it!”
    “How can I know I'll be happier if I don't?”
    “I've never met a version of us who never married him. Of course not,” her elder self said, wiping her eyes. “Those versions can't get back through time to meet us.” Her makeup had streaked and run, but then, of its own accord, flowed back up her face and corrected itself.
    The older woman whispered, "But I can tell you that it can't be worse. There were some happy days in the beginning. Some good times. But they're not worth it. Well?”
    Catherine said nothing. 
    Outside, the older Lelantos threw another book on the fire.
    The older woman said, “I'm warning you not to marry him. You're not going to listen to me, are you? You think you're so smart. You think you can do better. But I warned you.”
    Outside, a white-haired man dressed in a uniform of gray and green, with some sort of glowing metallic dots shining on his military collar came walking out of the trees, leaning on a cane. When the older Lelantos raised another book to throw on the fire, the white-haired man raised his walking stick and stepped in the way. Catherine could see that it was yet another version of Lelantos.
    “There he is, going to change his mind again!” the older woman screamed. She turned and ran out of the room.
    Catherine stepped toward the door to follow.
    By the time she reached the door, however, bright angled beams of sunlight were shining into the twilit room behind her. She came forward, blinking. The noon-light was reflected from the polish of the central table.
    The museum cases were larger, and there were more manikins, some wearing fabrics and shining substances which Catherine had never seen before. There were woven metals and dresses which slowly pulsed with gentle holographic light. It unnerved her that these futuristic garments were faded, old, and worn.
    A man in a dark blue suit was seated at a chair, his back to the table, facing the museum displays. He was dark-haired, handsome, and he wore spectacles. He seemed to be staring out the window with a blank look on his face, occasionally drumming his fingers in mid-air.
    The suit had a long, split-tailed coat, vaguely colonial in cut, but pinstripe strands of silvery light slowly and gently flicked back and forth through the fabric as he moved, holographic. There were folds of white lace at his throat, and he wore a single glove.
    What she thought at first were spectacles were actually two disks of glass which hovered, without support, on either side of his nose. On the disks little lights were flowing, diagrams and lines of script reflected backwards in the glass. On his right hand was a white silky glove, occasionally he gestured or pointed with it, or flickered his fingers as if he were typing.
    She stood and watched this strange man for a long moment.
    “You're one of Lee's family, aren't you? I know my older version didn't come back through time herself.”
    He started and smiled. The resemblance to Lelantos was quite striking. “Excuse me, I was just playing a game.” He took the hovering circles of glass and slid them into a pocket in the wrist of the glove, which he took off, folded, and slipped into his cummerbund. “And yes, I brought her to see you. I am indeed one of the family!” The assertion seemed to amuse him.
    He was staring at her and smiling, with an unsettling look of love and happiness in his eyes.
    “What's your name?” Catherine asked.
    “Nicholas. Nicholas Asteria.”
    “Oh my god!” Catherine put her hands to her mouth, and stood there staring at him, her eyes wide. Then she gave out a breathless, gasping laugh. “I don't believe it! I don't believe it!” She lowered her hands. “Look at how handsome you are!”
    He smiled and stood, and gave her a little bow. “You recognize