Page 8 of The Book of Lost Hours

Moira did not sit down at the table. Instead, she leaned back against the countertop, clutching her cup of coffee. Now was the time for explaining. Sensing that Amelia was waiting for her to start things off, Moira took an extra moment to compose her thoughts before she did so.

“First things first,” she began steadily. “This wasn’t my idea. I’m not here to make your life miserable, so let’s drop the attitude, shall we?”

“So then what are you doing here?”

“Well, first, I’m here to look after you. To protect you from things we’ll discuss in a moment. And second, I was sent by my department to look into Ernest’s murder.”

As the mention of murder resurfaced, Amelia’s careful defenses slipped again. Moira watched them crumble with a kind of perverse satisfaction.

“So he was killed by the Russians?” Amelia said in a small voice.

“That’s what we believe, yes.”

“How? When? I thought he was in DC.”

“When you wound the watch and stepped through the doorway, you found yourself somewhere you’d never been before. Someplace dark, filled with shelves and shelves of books. Yes?”

Amelia nodded, knuckles white where she gripped the mug.

“That’s called the time space. Less than one hundred people over the course of history have ever seen it. And now you’re one of them.”

“What is it?”

“It’s the place where conscious thought becomes a memory. Where the memories of the dead, and the thoughts of those still living, become something else.”

“Something else?”

Moira pursed her lips, thinking. “You’ve taken science classes, yes? Do you know the law of conservation of energy?”

Amelia nodded. “Energy cannot be created or destroyed. Only transferred. But thoughts aren’t a form of energy.”

“Aren’t they? You get tired if you think too hard for too long, don’t you? It costs energy to create conscious thought. So once you’ve done that, where does that energy go? Where do those thoughts go? If they can’t be destroyed, they must go somewhere, right?”

“I suppose.” A bit hesitantly.

“So if consciousness is a form of energy, and energy transfers, then where do you think it goes?”

“The time space?”

“Exactly.” Moira moved over to the table and sat down.

“But what does this have to do with my uncle?”

“Ahh. First thing to know about your uncle is that he didn’t work for the State Department. He worked for the CIA.”

Amelia’s face somehow became even paler than it already was. “So he was a spy?”

“Not exactly. Ernest was what’s known as a timekeeper.” Moira gestured to the watch on Amelia’s wrist. “He collected memories. Uncovered the truth about things that others might have wanted to keep buried. We refer to it as temporal reconnaissance.”

“And… the books on the shelves…”

“Are memories. The timekeepers of Ancient Rome began storing them that way and over time it evolved into what it is now. A library of mankind’s collective memory.”

Amelia rubbed at her temples, frowning. “But if that’s where I went… how did I end up back at the cemetery with you?”

Moira frowned as well, considering how best to answer this. She wasn’t sure she understood it herself. “Time works in mysterious ways. I believe what you experienced is something called temporal displacement.”

“Like time travel?”

“No, you simply shifted along your own temporal plane. Your own memories. Not the same thing as time travel.”

Amelia was quiet. She was still processing, caught somewhere between denial and belief.

Moira knew this process well. All timekeepers went through it.

But Amelia had the benefit of youth to help suspend her doubt.

Her mind was more malleable, more inclined to believe seemingly impossible things.

She would settle more quickly, accept this more quickly, learn more quickly.

Amelia took a deep breath. “And the Russians killed my uncle in there? In the time space?”

“Yes. It’s not unusual for timekeepers of opposing ideologies to come into conflict. We’ve been at odds with the Russians for decades now. Ernest was head of the department that was working to improve our relationship.”

“Then how did I get the watch?”

“They sent it back to us. They wanted us to know it was them who killed him. Most of the watches belong to the State Department, but your uncle’s watch was a family heirloom. He left it to you in his will, so I sent it in the mail.”

“So… you knew I had it already? Even before you asked?”

“I was trying to be polite. I didn’t imagine you would lie to me.”

Amelia had begun shaking her head angrily. “So all these lies about him being a communist… all the rumors about how he was selling secrets… why are you letting people believe that?”

“Because a murdered government agent would raise questions. It would draw too much attention to secrets we’re trying to keep hidden. People cannot know about the time space and all the implications that it brings.”

There was a pause. Moira watched Amelia closely, urging her along toward the question she knew was coming sooner or later.

“Then why are you telling me ?”

Moira pursed her lips slightly. “That’s where this gets complicated. You see, the department has been dealing with a rebellion of sorts.”

“A rebellion?”

“A movement. There is a group of timekeepers, not just Americans but those of other nationalities as well, who have been interfering with our work. They are of the belief that history shouldn’t be regulated by government entities and have been attempting to disrupt our efforts.

Their tactics are usually subtle but lately they’ve gotten a bit…

bolder. Our concern is that these rebels have formed an alliance with the Russians. ”

“Why would they do that?” Amelia asked with a frown.

“Because the United States timekeeper program is currently the largest, most influential government body regulating the time space. Getting rid of us stands to benefit both the rebels and the Russians in equal measure.”

“I still don’t see what this has to do with me.”

Moira leaned forward in her chair and took hold of Amelia’s wrist, gently pulling it forward so the watch was equidistant between the two of them. The girl’s skin was cold and clammy to the touch.

“Because Ernest was looking for something when he was killed. Something important. A book of memories, stolen by the rebels and hidden somewhere within the time space.”

“What kind of memories?”

“Dangerous ones. Memories that the rebels have taken from us over the years. Including the memory of how we make a watch like this.” She tapped Amelia’s wrist two times.

“Before the war, there were only a few people who knew how these watches were made. Most of them German. Most of them Jewish. And most of them killed by the Nazis. When the Nazis began entering the time space, they were unfamiliar with the way things work and eradicated most of the watchmakers’ memories from the time space before realizing that they needed them.

The only remaining set of those memories was stolen by the rebels over a decade ago and hidden in a book of lost memories.

We believe your uncle might have found this book before he died, making him a target.

And now you have his watch. You’ve seen the time space, and you know the truth.

” Moira paused to draw a breath, looking Amelia squarely in the eye.

“The department has asked me to garner your assistance in recovering the book.”

Amelia jerked her arm back, eyes wide. “Me? Why me? Why can’t you do it? Don’t you have other watches?”

“We did.”

“Did?”

“They were stolen. Presumably by the rebels. Which is why we need the book to create more.”

Amelia scowled at her, pointing to her wrist. “What about your watch? The rebels didn’t steal that one. Why can’t you go instead?”

Moira made a face. “That was the plan initially. But my boss said no.”

“Why?”

“The Russians already know who I am. They have profiles of every American timekeeper and every person in the department who might come after them. But they don’t know you. My superiors seem to think you would have more success.”

Amelia’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t. I won’t. If all you need is an anonymous face, then why can’t you get someone else?”

Moira let out a disappointed sigh. She had expected resistance.

Of course she had. But Jack had been clear in his orders.

If Amelia wouldn’t cooperate on her own, they had ways of forcing the matter.

Moira had hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

People were always easier to manage when they were willing.

She stood up and moved over to the sink, taking both half-empty mugs of coffee with her.

“Very well. We’ll find someone else.”

Amelia exhaled loudly. “Really?”

“Yes. However, if you won’t help, then we will need to discuss what happens to you now.

” Moira dumped the contents of the mugs into the sink, idling for a moment before continuing.

“It’s not as simple as saying no, I’m afraid.

You now know too much. Invaluable state secrets.

The department won’t just overlook that.

And unfortunately for you, explaining away your disappearance is entirely too easy.

Your uncle has been branded a communist. A traitor.

How easy would it be for people to believe you’re one too?

The Russians are known for recruiting them young. ”

Amelia made a choking noise behind her. Moira didn’t turn around, focusing on washing the dregs of coffee from the bottom of each mug until they sparkled.

“You’ll be relocated somewhere we can keep an eye on you,” she continued in a mechanical voice as she turned to look at Amelia. “Placed in an institution where anything you might let slip will be dismissed as the inane musings of an inmate.”

Amelia looked as though she might liquefy.

Turn to water and slip through the floorboards.

They stared each other down in the silence that followed.

To Moira’s surprise, Amelia’s expression suddenly hardened, the fear replaced with fortitude.

She saw that Moira was trying to manipulate her, that she was backing her into a corner.

Moira hadn’t exactly been subtle. What kept the remnants of fear alight in Amelia’s eyes, however, was not knowing how real the threat was and how much was a bluff.

For once, Moira let some of her own emotion slip through.

She knew the truth. She knew how little of what she had said was a bluff.

Dragging a child into a proxy war had not been her idea.

But Jack had insisted. He was set on it from the beginning and had sent her in, the director of the timekeeper program, to make it happen one way or another.

“And if I agree to help?” Amelia asked in a tentative voice.

Moira recognized the look in her eyes, had seen it in the mirror more times than she could count.

A spark, a refusal to be belittled, bullied, or coerced.

A desire to be in control of her own fate as much as anyone ever could.

Suddenly all those demerits made more sense. Moira offered her a genuine smile.

“Then you become a timekeeper.”