Summer of Love, a Time Travel Read Online Free PDF Page B

but she’s tight and unyielding. That doesn’t stop
him. He rams into her as she yelps in pain, rams again and again, thrusting
inside her. He pounds against her until she can’t stand it. Is she screaming?
He slaps her face, covers her mouth with his mouth.
    Then
he shudders, his sweat spattering her. His heat shocks her. Is she crying?
    He
rolls off her, rolls away. Then rolls back, tickling her ribs, biting her ear,
kissing away her tears. “That was groovy, Starbright,” he says and slaps her
butt.
    She’s
astonished. She’s aching deep inside. Blood stains the sheets between her legs.
She stares at him as he hops to his feet and finds his clothes. He grins. He laughs .
He doesn’t ache deep inside?
    He
zips up his jeans, pulls on his boots, grabs a fresh shirt, and stalks out. She
hears his bootheels clattering downstairs to the party. People laugh and shout.
A glass smashes. A woman shrieks. Motorcycles rumble outside on the street. Someone
turns up the stereo.
    Wild
and free, oh take me.
    Night
shines through the rain-dappled window. Stars wheel in the heavens, forming
mysterious patterns. She recognizes Orion the Hunter. She glimpses a bridge
made of clouds, a spiral galaxy, a girl dancing in the night sky. And most of
all, the first star of the evening, rising bright and high.
    “Star
light,” she sings softly, “star bright. First star I see tonight. Wish I may,
wish I might. Have the wish I wish. Tonight.”
    What
does she wish for?
    “I
want to be happy,” Susan whispers. “Happy for the first time in my life.”
    Then
she dresses and goes downstairs to the party, where she boogies until four in
the morning.

2
    Do You Believe in
Magic?
    They
never prepare you for the shock of the Event.
    Chiron
Cat’s Eye in Draco steps through the Portals of the Past. After the subjective
second it takes to cross over, he proceeds, as required by the Summer of Love
Project, to check for his points of reference:
    The
dome;
    the
carving;
    his
time of arrival.
    But
wait, wait. He tries to stand very still as perceptions speed past him in a
rush of images, scents, and sounds. Not dizzy like some, nor nauseated, nor
faint. He just feels. . . .empty. They say you don’t feel the Event, but
they’re wrong. He feels it. The pulse of his essence, the sensation of his
physical body translating into pure energy and then transmitting across time
faster than the speed of light. Ah!
    Chi
is shaken to his soul. In the flicker of translation-transmission, everything seems
dead. A weight around his neck so vast, he quells the urge to weep.
    They
say reality is really only One Day. The same everywhere, everywhen.
    Wrong,
again. For a moment, he wonders if he really is dead.
    But
he’s not dead, he’s alive, and he’s got work to do. The Summer of Love Project,
Chi. Get moving! He starts again slowly, breathing deeply and checking for his points
of reference.
    First,
the dome. The cosmicist dome that’s enclosed New Golden Gate Preserve for nearly
two centuries. Check. The dome is gone. Only the darkening twilight hovers
above him. The sight of a night sky unshielded by PermaPlast sends a jolt of
terror up his spine. Instinctively, he flings his hands over his face. Now he’s dizzy.
    Damn
it, Chi! This sky is thick and whole, damp with clouds, and untouched by
radiation like the sky ought to be.
    Like
it used to be.
    Like
it is Now.
    Calm
down. Breathe slowly.
    Next.
The carving.
    He
touches the cool, smooth marble of the Portals of the Past. And with his touch
on that ancient stone comes the second shock:
    The
carving near the bottom of Portal’s left pillar: It’s gone.
    He
reviews the drill one more time: the dome shouldn’t be there, but the carving should.
    The
carving, an indecipherable set of glyphs carved on the pillar centuries ago, was
discovered only after a massive research effort by the Archivists under the
leadership of Chi’s skipfather. The carving proved to be the final piece of the
puzzle—or so the