A Chronetic Memory (The Chronography Records Book 1) Read Free

and Dani had not seen any evidence that the doctor even knew which interns were hers.
    Dani realized she was still standing near the researchers. Now who was being unfocused and oblivious to her surroundings?
    Dr. Dural Tasman, in contrast to Dr. Brant, had piercing blue eyes that missed nothing. He always made her nervous, and now she’d been caught hovering. Any moment now, he’d be asking her where she should be.
    “Where should you be, Ms. Adams?” he asked her, with the voice of one scolding a wayward child.
    “I’m scheduled for the chronolab,” she replied, blushing, grateful that she had taken the time to read over her schedule in the lobby.
    He waved his hand in that general direction, dismissing her brusquely, and turned back to his fellow researchers. As she picked up her pace and headed for the lab, she sighed. These people were supposed to be her mentors, and she couldn’t get more than a few words from any of them. How was she supposed to learn?
    At the lab, she started the chronoimager. It would take its usual four or five minutes to run through the daily checks and set up backup files. She checked to make sure the storage rod still had room for the morning images, and glanced at the small copy of her schedule on her eyescreen to remind herself of the object number before going to the library to retrieve it.
    “Object 103192…103192…103192,” she muttered to herself as she walked down the long aisle, past row upon row of movable cases. Case 103 contained the newest acquisitions, but in a month’s time they would be identified, scanned, and cataloged. She would move on to case 104, then 105. There seemed to be no end to the objects.
    Ah, there it was. Dani reached up to retrieve a long iron rod with a handle on one end and two curvy points on the other end. “Object 103192: Fireplace poker, manufactured c. 1991,” read the sign. She carried it back to the imaging chamber where she placed it carefully to match the orientation from the day before, closed the airtight doors, and checked the sensors. All was in order.
    She stepped into the observation box and waited while it integrated seamlessly and silently with her synapses. Her next motions would have been a blur to an observer. In five seconds from start to finish, her right forefinger pulled up the settings screen, her other fingers scrolled through the available dates and times with precise movements until they bracketed the requested time frame: June 6, 1994, at 1:15:00 P.M. Duration, twenty seconds. Angle of elevation, 47.5 degrees.
    As she set the full circle scan, Dani shook her head at the waste. She had discovered yesterday that the fireplace tools had been kept against a brick fireplace in June of 1994, and for 160 degrees of the full circle rotation that brick was the only thing in the viewing field. For a good part of the rest, other iron tools partially blocked the view. Once such blockages were identified, wouldn’t it make sense to narrow the scan to just those parts of the rotation that would yield good results? It would be so simple to make adjustments as she watched with the integrated sensory input.
    For that matter, wouldn’t it make more sense to just pick objects that were in the center of the action and get views all around, like the baseball in the famous photo she passed every day? But such decisions were reserved for fellows and research scientists, and above the pay grade of a mere intern, no matter how intelligent or capable that intern might be.
    Dani worked efficiently, using interval settings to record visual scans. After the first few minutes, she had settled into a rhythm: Set, scan, adjust. Set, scan, adjust. She kept half an eye on the images flashing past at an accelerated rate. In the four hours she had before lunch, she was able to gather seven days of readings at the requested intervals. She was the quickest chronop in the building, which would have felt pretty good if she had had even the slightest hope