The icy wind whips my hair and I shove my hands in my pockets. A few tourists pass by, some wearing shorts and looking surprised that Los Angeles could get this cold. There are a few locals too—couples on dates or people who got off work and are heading for a bar. But for the most part the pier is empty. People in LA just don’t go out when it rains.
We stop to check out a group of balloon animals for sale that seem to be alive, twisting into different shapes and colors as we watch. One forms a dachshund that barks out loud, tail wagging. Another becomes a big, round happy face, smiling at us while it changes colors every few seconds. There’s also a dolphin that seems to leap through the air, a bird that flies back and forth, and a T. rex that roars and stomps around. The last one is my favorite.
“They’re all programmable,” the vendor says. “You pick the shape and whatever you want it to do or say from dozens of options.”
Zoe buys a butterfly that flits around her head, shifting between different sparkling colors, while Trent gets a black cat that curls up on his shoulder and purrs. They can’t take them back to the present with us, but at least they can enjoy them for the next few hours.
There are lots of restaurants on the pier, including a Mexican restaurant that’s been there forever, but we decide to eat at one of the little food stands outside. It’s automated like the Frosty Foam we visited earlier in the day. A few seconds after we each punch in our orders—and pay with our fake IDs, courtesy of Wombat—it pops out hot burgers and fries, along with sodas and warm, sugary funnel cake. We grab our food and sit at a long wooden table that’s still damp from the earlier rain.
“So, do you think this plan will work?” Chris asks as he unwraps his burger.
“Hey, no talking about that now,” Trent says, waving a fry around. “We’re supposed to be having fun, remember?”
“Fine.” Chris snorts but drops it. For a few minutes we just eat, everyone too hungry to talk. But as soon as most of the food has vanished, he starts up again with a new question. “All right, what are you all gonna do with your money from Aether Corp?”
I stare at my funnel cake as the wind spreads powdered sugar all over the table. Chris’s words assume that we’re going to make it out of this mess alive and that Aether is still going to pay us even if we blackmail them. But I guess for the moment we’re pretending that everything is going to work out.
When no one responds, Chris keeps talking. “Guess I’ll go first. Like I said before, I signed up for this thing for my son. I wanna marry my girl, do it right, be a real father. None of this shit I went through growing up with a crack whore for a mom who didn’t even know which john knocked her up. My son is gonna have two parents and a house. He won’t be sent to juvie at fourteen for jacking cars like I was. He’s gonna go to college one day.” He bunches up the empty hamburger wrapper, crumpling it in his fist. “And he sure as hell won’t go to prison. Not if his father is around. I’ll make sure of it.”
“You’ll be a good dad,” Zoe says.
“Maybe. First step is being there, right?”
I don’t know if that’s true. My life wasn’t that great when Papá was around. But I do admire Chris’s devotion to his family.
Zoe takes a breath and goes next. “I want to get my sister—get custody of her when I turn eighteen in a few months, find us a place to live. It’s…it’s my fault she doesn’t have a family. I thought I was protecting her by reporting my parents for…what they did to me, but then we got split up.” Her voice falters, her lower lip trembling. “I don’t want her to grow up alone like she did in this future.”
Adam puts his arm around her. “It’s not your fault, Zoe.”
I nod. “You did what you could to keep her safe.”
“I guess so. And…” Zoe shakes the ice in her soda as she stalls. “And I’d like to go to art school. Aether said they could help me with that too.”
I smile at her. “You’ll be a great artist.”
“I hope so.” She turns to Trent, who’s next in the circle around the table. “What about you?”