Dark Stars by Danielle Rollins (most read books of all time .txt) 📗

potato back in time cause me to start turning into a potato?

I’m only half joking.

In any case, without further delay, I bring you:

Mission: Goldblum 1

Objective: Attempt to extend the EM’s protection beyond my physical person.

Simplicity is key for this experiment, I think, and so I will keep it all fairly basic: my plan is merely to travel back in time, just an hour will do, while holding a potato.

Wish me luck.

UPDATE—

OCTOBER 1, 2074

21:15 HOURS

Goldblum 1 was a success! I’m actually a little shocked at how easy it was. I simply rowed out to the Cascadia subduction zone, just as I had done during my first vessel-less voyage back in time (try saying that five times fast). Only, this time, I was holding my lucky potato.

I felt the familiar pull of the time tunnel. The world sort of dropped away, and there I was. In the past.

With my potato. It wasn’t bruised or anything. It was perfect.

I’m really flying high right now. I sort of don’t want to let this feeling go, so I’m going to move on to the next stage of my experimentation: living subject.

In other words, I caught a mouse.

I’ll let you fill in the rest.

Here we go:

Mission: Goldblum 2

Objective: Attempt to extend the EM’s protection to another living subject.

Let’s do this.

UPDATE—

OCTOBER 1, 2074

22:45 HOURS

I almost don’t want to write this. I know I’m a scientist, and I really should be impartial here, but I’m also an animal lover and this . . .

Well this is hard to get out.

Okay, here goes: I’m afraid that Little Jeff didn’t make it through the last experiment.

Right—Little Jeff is what I named the mouse. As a scientist, I really shouldn’t name test subjects, but I couldn’t help it. He looked like a little Jeff Goldblum.

And now he’s gone. I’d prefer not to get into the specifics of how he was killed but will say, only, that the exotic matter did not extend its properties beyond my physical person to keep him safe inside the anil. It seems, for some reason, that it couldn’t protect a living creature like it could an object.

I really wonder why this is. I have some theories, but I’m afraid each is less likely than the next.

17

NOVEMBER 8, 2077

Dorothy spent the rest of the day following Mac, watching as he turned first her gang, and then the city, against her.

It was heartbreaking. Devastating. Dorothy had stayed hidden, peering out from behind the half-crumbling columns and dark corners of the hotel, her heart sinking deeper and deeper as she watched how easily Mac turned her closest allies against her.

It was like watching a lion seeking out prey. He would wait until he found a Freak on his own, and then he would hobble up to him, all smiles and promises.

Would the Freak like a new set of weapons? A warmer pair of boots? Some expensive food or drink that could only be found in the Center? Mac would snap his fingers to show how easy it would be for him to obtain such things. That terrible smile would grow wider and wider, as he promised the Freak everything he wanted and more.

And, all the while, Regan Rose was a shadow behind him. Silent, menacing, her presence a clear message.

Quinn Fox isn’t in charge anymore.

It made Dorothy seethe.

By midday, Mac had won over half the Freaks, and Dorothy could see that he’d have the rest on his side by nightfall. They were already whispering among themselves, spreading the news that Mac Murphy was willing to give them everything that Quinn and Roman could not—or would not.

Dorothy expected Mac to remain around the hotel, to continue his campaign to turn her gang, but just when he seemed to have them all in his grasp, he just . . .

He left.

He took a boat downtown, Dorothy following as close as she dared. He hit the small-business owners first, always offering them something in exchange for their loyalty. A larger space for their store. An introduction to someone in the Center who could make facilitating trade easier. Then he made his way into the few remaining wealthy neighborhoods in town, always with some bribe. Fresh strawberries and expensive bourbon, a crate of wine, medicine, a few solar panels, so the rich could have working lights again.

Something, something. There was always something.

Dorothy’s blood boiled as she watched him work. By nightfall, it seemed as though he had the entire city of New Seattle believing that she was evil, treacherous. She had no idea how far and wide his reach extended. But she should’ve. She never should’ve trusted him.

I did this, she thought, horror washing over her. Mac never would have gotten to where he was if it hadn’t been for her, for their alliance. She’d practically handed the city over to him, silver platter and all.

Roman didn’t return to his room that night. Dorothy waited around for hours and then, remembering that this was the time they’d missed their exit coming back from the past, she curled up on his bed, wondering what on earth she was supposed to do now.

It had gotten dark, but she didn’t feel like getting up to light a candle. She buried her face into Roman’s pillow, breathing hard. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so lost.

Maybe it was the day of her wedding, realizing that she’d tried everything she could think of to get away and nothing had worked, that she might have to marry Avery after all.

Or perhaps it was the moment she’d woken up on the docks a year earlier than she’d meant to, alone and friendless, wondering how she was going to survive in this strange new world.

She sighed, frustration roaring up inside of her. If she were being honest with herself, neither of those moments compared to how she felt now. As desperate as she’d been, she’d always had some backup plan, some way of regaining control even as everything seemed to get harder and more complicated. And she’d had people she could