Stealing Time by Rebecca Bowyer (acx book reading .txt) 📕

Mr Keats finally exhausted his point andfocussed in on Marisa’s gaze. He swiped at his personal screenuntil the sound on the wall screen rose.

“Nine-year-old Ben Williams was taken twodays ago from his home in Waterdown. This morning we brought youthe good news that he had been reunited with his family.”

Cue scenes of a stunned boy being hugged byhis parents and photographed by dozens.

“Tragically, this happy family reunionwas shattered just hours later when the child’s Rest Time Chipmalfunctioned and triggered his death, some fifty-six years early.Police say it’s too early in their investigation to speculate as towhat could have caused the malfunction.”

More video footage, this time of ahaggard-looking man peering around his front door.

“Rest Time Chips don’t malfunction.There’s no precedent. This has to be the time thief gangsagain,” he said.

“Can you tell us why you think that,sir?” A faceless voice demanded as a microphone inched closerto him.

“Because I’ve seen it before. Ten yearsago, I lost my nine-year-old son, too.” His next words werelost to a choked sob. He sniffed and wiped his sleeve across hisnose and reddened eyes in one movement. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” Heslammed the door and the screen flicked back to the in-studiopresenter. Marisa jerked her head around, lips pursed, as thevolume went silent. She opened her mouth to speak but Mr Keatsshook his head.

“I’d rather not re-live it, if you don’tmind, love. I don’t have many days left. I just want to use my timetabs to disappear into my bubble of sonnets.” He gave a flourish ofhis hand, as though the performance was at an end.

Marisa nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll leave youto it.”

“Thank you.”

She stood and paused for a moment, watchingthe strapline change.

“Too few similarities to time thiefgangs, say police.”

Marisa snorted softly. A ninety-five percent match was enough, surely. The fact that they’d left a fewhours on the Chip for the family to say goodbye, didn’t change thegeneral pattern of events. Somebody out there had clearlyresurrected the technology to transfer time between Rest TimeChips.

“Close the door on the way out, if youwouldn’t mind, love,” said Mr Keats, sitting up in bed andclutching a thick volume of plays. His outstretched palm held asingle blue time tab.

Marisa held his gaze for a moment then left,gently letting the door click shut after her.

Chapter fourteen

Varya

Much later that night—after she’d spent enough hourssitting in her lab, unable to concentrate—Varya was with her sonagain. It was always happy where he was, always calm. Nothing couldhurt Kir here. She felt enveloped by the same safety as she heldhim close.

“Mummy, how many sick kids are there?” heasked with wide eyes.

Varya pressed her tired cheek against hissoft, squishy one.

“You don’t need to worry about the sickkids, little one.”

Kir pulled away and looked at her, thencuddled up again, squishing his cheek back against hers. Hegiggled.

“But you’ll make them better, won’tyou?”

“It’s Aunty Zoe’s job to make them better. Ijust try to find the medicine for her.”

“Did it get lost?”

Varya let go of Kir and ran the palm of herhand over the blades of grass. The idea of discovering medicinethat was simply lost was very appealing. It held the otherwiseelusive certainty of hope. That a cure existed out there for everyillness.

“Mummy?” Kir put a tiny hand on each of hercheeks and gently forced her to face him, pressing the tip of hisnose against hers.

“Yes, sweetheart?” she whispered, cuppingher hands over the top of his and inhaling his sweet childishbreath.

“Mummy, when will you find the medicine tomake me better?”

Varya let out a sob and roughly pulled hishands away. Kir began to cry. Starting softly, he worked his way upto a siren wail.

Varya wanted to put her hands over her ears,her hands over her eyes. She wanted to wake up from this nightmare.She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“I think it might be time for you to go,”her mother told her. Varya nodded.

In the morning she woke with a gasp, asthough someone had been standing on her windpipe. She put her handto her throat and took desperate, shallow breaths.

Chapter fifteen

The state-of-the-art security systems at the MinorMiracles Foundation had been custom-built to keep biohazards in andthieves out. Individual offices, which usually housed simplefurniture and password-protected screens, sometimes required aswipe card to enter but were often left unlocked.

Professor Janet Langford’s former office wasdifferent.

Varya pushed the manual override button andwaited, silently crossing her fingers. A keypad slid out just belowthe palm scanner. She checked the numbers written on a small pieceof paper and typed in the code she’d found in her staff lockerseveral hours after Professor Langford’s Rest Time ceremony.Glancing around nervously, she waited for the green light to appearand listened for the quiet click of the lock. She pushed the doorand went in, just as she thought she saw a figure in her peripheralvision turn the corner. She quickly shut the door behind her andleant against it, her heart thumping as a drop of sweat tickled atthe back of her neck.

While she waited for footsteps to approach,she ground her teeth at the irritation of needing to slink aroundlike a thief in her own facility.

“You don’t need to be here on-site, youknow,” Langford had pointed out more than once. “You’ve hired someof the best scientists this country has to offer and equipped themwith everything they could possibly need to do their job. Why notleave them to it?”

“What else would I do with my time? I may aswell contribute something.” The lack of substance in her statementwas laid bare in the silence that Langford allowed to grow. Varyahad tried again: “I need to be here. It makes me feel closer tohim.”

Langford would always sigh then, defeated inthe face of parental grief.

“Maybe you need to take a more visiblymanagerial role, then. It may help give a sense of purpose andplace to you. This subterfuge, it can’t be healthy.”

That had been one of her last suggestions,before her time was up. Langford was right, the subterfuge andcreeping around was eating away at Varya. It was directly opposedto what she most wanted, which was to openly declare