Following Colin’s advice, Wes and his accomplices kept quiet on their march through a busy office filled with all manner of activity both recognizable and unfamiliar. Desks and chairs were still around, but there were also holographic virtual crime scene spaces and live maps being manipulated by agents, Minority Report style. Burly cyborg field cops brought in time crime perps who were adorned in various clothing that must have spanned centuries, a sergeant was chewing out the rookies in another room, and the pencil pushers filed away reports or studied historical images for any inconsistencies.

           Nyra knocked at the door furthest from the entrance, and it slid open right away to reveal an overworked graying woman who appeared to be in her sixties or so—at least, by 21^st century standards—behind a desk with three glass monitors covered in text-filled windows. Her dark navy uniform was decorated and formal and her walls were lined with framed photos of her accomplishments, now thoroughly in the past.

           “Nyra,” Ms. Hawthorn said and closed the door with a flick of her wrist. “So, these three must be our troublemakers, at last… And hello again, Ms. Vanbusen.”

           “I hope you show them leniency, Chief,” Millie said in a humbled tone. “I know I’ve always defended them, but I never could tell which way you were leaning…”

           “Because I never show it.” The chief studied a nervous Wes, Jace, and Warren with tired eyes. “Violently resisting officers, changing an entire timeline twice, sending a bomb to our dispatch area, even letting a quartz detonate over an amusement park…”

           “Okay, sounds bad. But we were trying to fix…” Wes murmured, but trailed off.

           “We know,” the chief stated firmly. “We know almost everything, thanks to Nyra and Millie. Mr. Colton, if any of you were in real trouble, we’d have brought you in already. Our job is primarily investigation, to understand changes made to the timeline, why there were made, and who made them. Criminals keep at it and need to be stopped, but you corrected a mistake made by another version of yourself, and went home all on your own. Temporal amnesia takes care of the rest of the problem. If we tried to jail every wayward time traveler, we’d need this whole building and still get nothing done.”

           Nyra added, “In other words, the TMB and their officers’ jobs is to mitigate timeline damage, repair it with operatives or a daemon, record everything, and move on. Wes, your case wouldn’t be so unique and worthy of attention if it wasn’t for the fact that it all happened centuries before time travel was officially created—making legal and procedural issues with enforcing our laws a headache. And it resulted in a branch.”

           “A… branch?” Warren said curiously. “As in… another timeline?”

           “A permanent one, yes,” the chief continued. “This is where we know more than you and your dad do. Your activities and… amateurish bumbling about led to two major cut loops. The latter of which was a consequence of the first, and involved one of our captains breaking his vows to seek a personal mission against you. He—”

           “H-hold on, Chief, Nyra already told us about this,” Wes interrupted. “I suppose I’m glad I can’t remember dealing with that. But if it never actually happened, because Jace saved me and Warren… then what’s different about the other, bigger screw-up?”

           “This is where the bad me comes in,” Millie spoke up. “Just keep in mind, I don’t have memories of these loops myself. I only have my old notes, from when Jace caught me up on everything before he forgot about this stuff. But the idea that an alternate timeline survived, with a me that somehow crossed over, bypassed my security, and broke into my apartment and files because she knew my passwords is… scary.”

           “You’re saying… she’s from an entirely different timeline? Another universe?” Wes fell back in his chair and mulled over the concept. “What’s it take to cause that?”

           “A major event,” the chief summed up. “The kind we usually, but not always, manage to prevent. Wes, the senior version of yourself, in attempting to destroy Mr. Corathine’s transported Time Lab under the amusement park, sent a bomb to it.”

           “That’s right. I remember that coming up during our… little fight. What does—”

           “Originally, it detonated, in a timeline where you didn’t know about it. Triggering an earthquake that destroyed the park, and creating enough variables in space-time to send out a shock wave where temporal changes usually make a ripple. Once a change in the timeline that large happens, it’s too late to cancel out. The daemons can prune and correct small variations to avoid butterflies, but when you’re talking about enough of an altered world line where people are born or die that normally weren’t meant to do so, you run into major ethical issues around annihilating a new universe. Instead of having our daemons stitch back together a timeline we want to keep intact, we cut it off entirely.”

           “And… that’s how you create a true, stable… alternate universe.”

           “Exactly. Your family seems to catch on quickly to how it all works, Mr. Colton. And I know you just got here, but you also don’t seem too overwhelmed by this era.”

           “Heh, well… We did grow up in a period where sci-fi and possible futures and tech was, like, everywhere in media. We aren’t cavemen seeing a TV for the first time.”

           “Spoken like a true millennial. Anyway, it’s likely that our other Millie came from the ‘earthquake timeline.’ How though, we don’t know. We’ve yet to develop a way to cross into a parallel universe. What she’s after is also an unknown, but she’s leaving a mess in her wake and we’ve been chasing her for a while. If she’s trying to involve Jace, it tells me that she may be near the end of her plans, and knows him personally.

           “You two did see this alternate timeline, and must have interacted with her, but the moment you went back and prevented the quake, you lost access to her world. Now then…” She leaned forward in her chair. “I wanted to share this with you, but you don’t need to get involved; you can leave it to the professionals. What I want from you four, is a little time to talk and clear up some lingering missing details about everything you’ve been through. So that we can finally close the book on a very long report.”

           “That sounds… fine,” Wes said. “But can I ask you something that’s been on my mind first? How come I do still remember… at least most of what happened? Am I still going to make a time machine with André and go back all over again, even after I made peace with myself? I can’t just be stuck on a loop, right? Not after everything…”

           “That’s what we call an RD—a ‘reconciled deviation.’ You had your journey, and fixed what you needed to about yourself. So, we left it alone and stopped pursuing you.”

           “A reconciled…” Wes looked at Nyra. “Is that… bad? Or routine, or what?”

           “Uncommon,” she replied. “It’s also called a ‘timeline patch,’ and it’s used as a ‘trick’ to correct more… complex mistakes. It’s a step just below breaking off a branch entirely. To put it as simply as possible, a daemon stitches the timeline in a way to form a closed loop—a one-way ticket that doesn’t violate causality; you can fix something without being stuck in a repeating cycle. So just because you remember your big adventure and it also still happened, doesn’t mean you’re fated to go back all over again with André. The daemons were originally built to make closed loops possible.”

           “I think I get it… So even if I don’t re-meet André long after I lose my memories again, my journey and any growing up along the way will still be… real? Huh. Neat.”

           “Very.” Nyra smirked. “All right, let’s get to the interrogation. Oh, and there’s someone you might want to meet later this evening, Wes. But let’s leave it a surprise.”

           After about an hour, the well-grilled 21^st century gang emerged from the department and returned to the others, still on the walkway. The four barely noticed them, as they had all found something to fill up the time during the long wait. Arthur and Colin were doing a deep dive on the modern era internet via public kiosk, while Laurie and Little Millie were playing a holographic game of some kind with a couple of slick-looking teenage boys. It appeared to be a dungeon crawler, and it was being broadcast from a miniature spherical drone, hovering silently.

           “Hey… guys?” Wes had to speak up. “We’re back. If you… were worried.”

           “Hm? Oh, hey,” Colin replied with a quick glance. “Wes, this is crazy. A few of the food franchises from our time are still around. Some are almost a millennia old!”

           “Good to see you two are utilizing the miracle of being here wisely,” Millie said, and turned to her younger self. “And it’s nice that you’re both bonding with the locals, but did it have to be with some kids that just so happen to be in a police building?”

           The boys seemed to do the current iteration of a scoffing gesture, and with their buzz killed, they shut off their game, said bye to the girls, and left with their drone.

           “Hey, they were being nice,” Lil’ Mill grumbled. “You’re not my… Never mind…”

           “They were here because they tried hacking some crypto, big deal,” Laurie said.

           “Well, what’s next on the agenda?” Arthur wondered. “Is Jared out yet?”

           “All that’s left is the red tape,” Nyra answered. “You may think that with the net being infinitely fast and accessible on any bionic cornea, bureaucracy might be a faster process by now. Nope. But while I work on his release, you guys should go see your city! Just… don’t leave, since you’re technically in my custody. Public transport is free, and if you want to see an attraction,” she gave a plastic tab with a shimmering holo-diamond pattern to Millie, “a hundred creds—a week of my pay, for scale. Mill can be the guide.”

           “Nyra, I, er…” Millie sighed and pocketed the future money. “Maybe we…”

           “We’ll talk later. As friends again, no investigation hanging over our heads. Let’s all meet for dinner at seven, Victory Plaza Rooftop. The third building to have the name, if you guys were wondering. Oh, and Wes, feel free to talk about pretty much anything we just did with the chief if your friends ask. Most of it isn’t confidential.”

           With that, Nyra walked off, leaving the rest of the day up to the out-of-timers. Not that anyone, including Millie, knew where to go first from the elevated walkway.

           It was Colin that broke the silence with a cheeky inquiry, “So, Millie, what’s it feel like being the one to get spied on? Did you ever suspect she was a fed?”

           She huffed. “No… but she did treat me nice from the start, which I’m always suspicious of. She was sociable, helpful, and clearly loved the 90s, so we… hit it off.”

           “Millie…” said Arthur, leaning on the railing and watching a cockatoo fly from one walkway to another. “Do you think the other you made the portal that brought you here? It’d be a good way to keep you distracted while she tears through your apartment.”

           “That’s what I’m figuring. The only hint I ever got about the portal, was the note that it spit out when it appeared, asking me if I wanted to have an adventure. Simple, but something I would’ve enticed myself with, now that I think about it. Knowing all about time travel and helping Wes, Jace, and Warren for a few months was a high to chase.”

           “Will you stay here, if given the choice?” Teen Mill questioned. “Make living in the future… our future? I guess Wes also had to decide that, in the opposite direction.”

           “I doubt I’d ever truly feel at home here, but I’ve also been reluctant to go back.”

           “Millie, return to our own time—our page of history, where we belong,” Colin urged her. “It’s where all your friends are, the people who grew up with you.”

           “Laurie, you okay?” Jace asked her. “You’re kind of zoning out again.”

           “I’m fine,” she assured him. “Just… wanna get out there and explore.”

           Once they had figured out how to work the kiosks at the building’s nearest aeropad, a driverless air-taxi picked up the group and took to the sky swiftly and quietly.

           The aircraft was a quad-copter and looked like a giant drone, but the turbines didn’t run hard or make much noise; it was the anti-gravity tech that did most of the work. Surrounded by glass, including a see-through floor, they watched from their seats as they passed over what used to be the interstate. The moderate cruising speed gave them a chance to see that the highway now appeared to be a maglev rail, carrying trains across California. And on the other side of the tracks was good old Desert Tree.

           “This direct gravity manip is weird science…” Wes remarked once they had been dropped off at the edge of the neighborhood, and watched the copter float off like a sentient balloon. He then turned around to see a large park, where there had long ago been several suburban blocks of family homes. “This feels like the right place, but…”

           “Yeah. Our childhood houses aren’t here anymore,” Colin said, looking around at people jogging or walking dogs of breeds that hadn’t existed in their time. “I wonder what was here before this park. I think this is where your place used to be, Wes.”

           “What’d you expect, Dad, a museum to your greatness?” Warren joked.

           “Of course not,” Wes said. “Ah, well, at least the neighborhood isn’t covered in high-rises. Looks like mostly two or three-story homes—duplexes, maybe? They aren’t exactly what I expected; not boxy at all. They’re all kind of… organic? Hm. They must be 3-D printed out of some sturdy material. Maybe people go for specific designs.”

           “Sci-fi media usually just has mega-tall skyscrapers,” Millie noted. “Houses are so rarely shown. But there are still a lot of trees around. So… that’s nice.”

           “It’s possible a couple of the biggest ones might have even been around when we lived here,” Arthur suggested. “How about a walk? Any destinations in mind?”

           Laurie seemed to read the adults’ minds, and was the first to respond, “DTE!”

           “That’s what I was thinking,” Wes agreed. “But does it still exist?”

           “Let’s find out,” Teen Millie replied and started leading the pack. “We should still be able to find the way… Just picture how the neighborhood used to be…”

           The seven left the shady streets and crossed into the park, where centuries ago, familiar streets once formed boundaries to water gun battles or were navigated by big groups of kids on bikes. The old grids were gone, but the soul of Desert Tree remained.