Ieat lunch alone in an empty student lounge, mostly so I won’t see any of Mia’s friends, but also because I want to call my mom. As a librarian, she’s really well read. If something like this time-skip has ever happened before, Mom would know. She doesn’t work Fridays, so she should be home. My dad answers her phone.
“Leeza-bear,” he says.
I’m glad no one is hearing this. I’m nineteen—a little old for pet names. He must have seen my name on Mom’s screen. He works from home and is probably on his lunch hour right now.
I realize Dad might be able to help me with this puzzle too.
“Hey, Dad. I wanted to talk to Mom, but can I ask you a question about software and computers first?”
“Yeah, of course. I’m on speaker and your mom’s here too. My consulting fee is out of your budget, but since we pay your expenses, I’ll just invoice myself. What’s up?” My dad is a computer-systems consultant. He’s devastated that I didn’t want to follow in his footsteps in IT like my brother, who’s a computer programmer out west.
I think about how to ask the question. I haven’t told them yet that I moved out of Mia’s room. I know they would ask hundreds of questions, then probably call Mia’s parents. It isn’t something I want to deal with right now.
“What do you know about time travel?” I ask.
“Um,” Dad says. “Not a lot? Why?”
I bite my lip. Obviously, I can’t tell them the truth. “I was thinking, can technology be used to talk to someone in the past?”
“Are you talking about science fiction, or reality?” Mom asks. They’re both into science fiction, but Mom’s a bit more hard-core.
“Reality. I’m actually wondering if it’s possible for a computer program to go back in time. Like, could you use software to talk to someone in the past?”
“Of course not,” Dad says. “That’s completely in the realm of science fiction. But AI has gotten to the point where it couldsimulateit. If there is a good enough record of the era the program is emulating.”
“Yes, like a wayback machine or something,” Mom adds. “AI can fake conversations very well. If enough raw data is accessible, you could use a computer to talk to someone from the past. Why are you asking?”
“A friend and I are trying to figure something out. So, a computer couldn’t really go back in time, but modern AI could simulate it believably.”
“Yeah, exactly,” Dad says.
Could my conversation with Jay be an AI simulation?
“Who’s the friend?” Mom asks. “Someone from your classes?”
I know my parents won’t let it go unless I tell them who. They are sometimes typical Indian overinvolved parents. “He’s not in my program, but he lives in my building. His name is ... his name is Robin.” Dumb. My mind is stuck on bird names. But if I say Jay, she’ll think about the missing student. She mentioned him to me many times while telling me to be careful walking around campus after dark. “We were talking about time-travel movies, and it got me thinking about technology and time travel.”
“I’m so glad you’re meeting nice boys,” Mom says. “He likes time-travel movies!”
Mom is forever trying to butt into my love life. Romance is her second favorite book genre after sci-fi.
“It’s not like that, Mom. We’re friends. And I’m too busy with school.”
“Don’t forget to have fun, too, Aleeza,” she says. “The nicest boy has been coming into the library all winter. He asked me for mystery recommendations. He would be so perfect for you! It’s too bad you’re not coming home anytime soon. Maybe I can ask if he’ll be here—”
“Dad, tell her not to be a stereotypical Indian matchmaking mother.” On second thought, maybe Ishouldn’task my mother too many questions. The longer I have her on the phone, the more she will meddle. I love my parents, but I went away for university because my mother tends to be a little too ... involved in my life. I’d rather not let her know I’m struggling with anything right now, or Mom will get in the car and drive here immediately.
My father laughs. “She’s right that university is supposed to be fun, though. In fact, I’ll send you a list of my favorite time-travel movies!”
“Yes!” my mother says. “I’ll send you book recs too!”
I groan. “Okay, fine. Anyway, I have class soon. Love you both.”
“Love you, Aleeza!” They disconnect the call.
I can’t dwell on the Jay mystery forever—I have an assignment to finish. Luckily the library gods are kind to me, and after class I find some great pieces on the missing 1919 playboy. He apparently pissed off a lot of people ... which, fair. A millionaire playboywouldhave a lot of enemies. After reading accounts from people who wanted him dead, I can’t help but think of Jay. It’s reminding me of that article from the school paper the day I moved into our room. The one that said a lot of girls were mad that he was cheating on them.
When a person hasthatmany enemies, how can anyone narrow them down? After taking a few pages of notes on the missing 1919 playboy, I give in to my curiosity again and look up Jay’s disappearance. There are no recent articles since the one from the school paper a few days ago. I wonder if the case is losing steam and everyone is moving on. Maybe no one is even looking for him anymore.
