| Hyperbola, Pt. 2 |

“A choice?”

Marsia stood across the train car from Agent White, disoriented and confused. Looking out the windows made her want to vomit—the subway was headed straight for the edge of the atmosphere.

The engine thrummed through the floor as White leaned against the doorway. “Yes, Marsia, a choice. Though before I throw it in your hands, I figure I should set you up with some context.”

The agent raised a hand to her face and tapped on the rim of her sunglasses. Locri tensed up in response.

“What was that?” she snarled.

“I adjusted my shades. God, you’re delusional.” White lowered her glasses, allowing Marsia to peer into her electric yellow irises. The stark contrast shocked her, figuratively.

Locri jutted a finger at her. “Please excuse me. You’re the one who just appeared here! Scanned the whole train looking for anyone else, not a soul until you showed up.”

“I told you, my name is Agent White. And I’ll explain everything if you give me a second, you nimrod.”

Locri simmered in silence as White reached into her belt pocket and retrieved a holographic interface of some kind. Marsia recognized it as similar to the one her old manager had shown her.

“Is that a video player?” she asked, curious.

White shook her head. “No, it’s just a virtual monitor. Good for showing anything, not just video.”

“Right.”

With a flick of her wrist, White set the disc into motion, where it floated midair and spun. A digital image slowly appeared above it—a three-dimensional view of the city. Brushed to the side were the latest news updates, many of which featuring Marsia’s beloved surname.

On the holographic map of X2, a small pink dot pulsed about halfway down the Underside. Marsia pictured it in her mind for a moment and figured it must’ve represented the train, ascending—or descending—through the sky.

“What is this meant to show?” Locri asked.

“It’s a visual aid to help me explain your predicament. For example, that point is us.” White replied, giving a brief gesture towards it. Marsia pumped her fist—spot on.

“Pardon my bluntness, lady, but get to the point,” Locri said.

“Two big points. One, there’s a large police presence almost directly below us, which you can see here.” Red blips illuminated the ground level of the miniature Underside. “Almost certainly, they think you hijacked this train. Whether you did or not, I personally don’t care, but that’s what they believe.”

“But we–”

“I said, I don’t care,” White cut Marsia off. “Plus, you’ve got other problems. Check the news.”

She dragged a few articles upwards and enlarged them. There on mass media were her marvelous parents, scouring the city for their precious child. How philanthropic they seemed.

“They’ve got their own guys coming after you for running away. I went and intercepted some transmissions from earlier today, if you want to hear.”

“Just give us the summary,” Locri said.

“They’re firing you on the spot, Lonestar. And Marsia, you’ll be wearing an ankle monitor for the rest of your parents’ lives. Not to mention whatever charges you get from law enforcement.”

Marsia, watching the edge of space push closer, started to dread her own future. “Don’t you work for the government? Can’t you put in a good word for us?”

“Who I work for is confidential. But I do have a solution in mind—hence the choice I told you about earlier.”

“Please. I’ll take anything over permanent house arrest.”

Agent White nodded. “Your options are limited, for sure. So here’s what you’ve got. One is, obviously, just let things play out. Whatever happens with the police happens. Lonestar, find a new job. Marsia, you’ll never step foot in Underside again.

“Or, you let us try some unreleased technology and rewind time by twenty-four hours. You’ll never have run away, so you won’t get lectured. And Lonestar, you’ll have a stable income. The caveat is, it’ll erase your memories of the past day.”

Locri immediately shot her with a question. “Then how do we not just end up in the same place all over again?”

“I’ll help make sure nothing goes wrong, then I’ll be out of your hair. Easy win-win—I test out technology for a report, and you two walk out scot-free.”

The two stood there for a moment, settling on the decision. Marsia only had one objection, despite the whole plan seeming pretty clear-cut. She just felt fairly stupid about it.

“Can you set it so I remember someone I met yesterday?”

White facepalmed. “It’s not like I have control of what you forget. You’re literally going back in time. You won’t remember anything that hasn’t happened yet.”

“I don’t want to lose Arufa, though.”

White grimaced and turned around when she heard it. Perhaps she was done with Marsia’s baseless hopes. “There’s no bringing her back.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She composed herself and spun back, coming closer and grabbing the floating disc. The display faded. “Whoever this person is, you can’t somehow retrieve a memory of them. You’ll just have to meet them all over again.”

“I’m afraid I won’t.”

Locri groaned. “Lady Marsia, she tried to steal from you and murdered four officers. How could you possibly still think of her in a positive way?”

“I-I don’t know! It felt like we had something in common, I suppose.”

“You had nothing in common. And the police are probably on their way by now. What do you say we just agree to time travel and see what happens?”

Marsia rolled her eyes. As much as she disliked it, Locri was right. This was their best way out—a miracle, right when they needed it. She was annoyed at her own hesitation.

She stuck her hands in the pockets of her trench coat and stared out the window, indecisive. The city retreated further still, the edge of the world approaching rapidly in its place. “I don’t want to forget…”

Somehow, the concept of forgetfulness was not alien to her. She’d noticed recently her own tendency to lose her track of thought, especially given she would wind up stressed and frustrated afterward. It had happened most recently when she last saw Arufa’s and Skyler’s warrant.

This bothered her. She wasn’t a forgetful person. She stored everything she needed in her daydreams, finding creative mnemonics and monikers to remember what she could. Her sudden bouts of forgetfulness had only started after meeting Arufa, and she couldn’t explain why.

Suddenly, she lurched sideways. The gravity stabilizer had run out of power. She tumbled along with Locri to the back wall, where, cushioned by the ruined map, they found White still perfectly upright. She pointed a black glove straight up.

“Don’t think you’ll be reaching that steering stick, then.”

“Dammit!” Locri shouted. Overhead, the front windows showed pure horror—the void of space, only a matter of moments away. They’d taken far too long making a decision and had forgotten to turn the tram.

White shrugged. “That time travel option is still up for grabs. But it’s really up to you.”

“Doesn’t seem like it’s up to us,” Marsia said. “You present it like a choice, but where we are now, the whole situation is aligned towards your time travel scheme.”

“I won’t disagree with you. It’s sort of why I decided to offer you the opportunity to test it out.”

“Something still bothers me about it, though.”

The whole train shuddered as the atmosphere began to thin. The pressure difference warped the windows. If there were a timer ticking to her demise, Marsia figured it’d be somewhere in the range of a minute.

“Lady Marsia, I’ll choose whatever you do,” Locri reassured her.

“I just need more time!”

“You got it.”

Locri unclipped a peculiar gun from her belt and aimed it straight at the ceiling—where the steering controls laid. With a pull on the trigger, a steel cord blasted through the car, digging itself into the plastic panel.

At once, Locri began to climb. She was surprisingly determined, taking step after step along the rotated floor, yanking herself upward with the rope. Marsia, however, was distracted in her pondering.

But then she realized what had been bugging her. “Agent White. You said we won’t retain our memories through reversed time, correct?”

She seemed stressed—probably at her imminent demise. “Yes. Are you prepared to accept that?”

“No, it doesn’t make sense! Because if we won’t, how will you?”

The white-haired woman stood in silence for a moment. Was she thinking? Coming up with a lie? Marsia couldn’t tell—not until a smile spread across her face. She’d caught Agent White in her own ruse.

“Oh, whatever. You won’t remember this anyway.”

Suddenly, Marsia saw stars. She clutched her jaw and scrambled back. The metallic taste of blood swelled on her tongue—she spit out a tooth. “Ack! Wha– you hit me!”

“Been wanting to do that for a long time.”

With a new, apathetic look in her eyes, Agent White pulled her own gun out and aligned it with Locri’s hands. Marsia leaped at her in an attempt to disorient her, but she’d just barely reacted too late—

BANG!

Locri, almost to the control panel, hung on with one hand as blood spurted out her other. She gritted her teeth. “Nice aim, dipshit!”

Marsia barely heard her over the tussle. She wasn’t sure how, but she instinctively knew her way around the fight—her short stature came to her advantage as she crawled up White’s back.

“You bitch!” she cried, wrapping her arms around her aggressor’s neck. White tried to point her gun backwards, but Marsia brought her leg up and pinned her arm to her side.

“I wanted to be… civil about all this…” White said, prying Marsia’s arms off with her free hand, “…and give you a choice. That way, we could call it consensual…!”

Marsia tried desperately to cling on but found herself square on the wall once again. She stood up and wiped her face on her sleeve, newly red with her own blood. “Who’s we?!”

“Do you really think I’m going to answer that?”

Locri slid down the wire and landed. With her functional hand now empty, she swiped the gun from her holster and held it at White’s forehead. “You’d better.”

“You and your death threats. Open your coat. Look at your chest.”

Marsia didn’t have to look. The shape of the sigil had engraved itself in her mind. She remembered why she’d been so stressed seeing the warrant. Every time she saw it, she forgot. No, that was wrong—any time she said she saw it. Someone had been listening. Someone being Agent White.

Ssssss!! Pressure began to leak from the rickety cabin door, but not enough to equalize it. The windows warped even more—surely the train would collapse any second. In spite of this, Marsia cleared her throat and crossed her arms.

“So our choices are death and imprisonment.”

White, rubbing at her trachea, smirked. “No, you idiot. There was never a choice.”

“I have the choice to shoot you through the skull right now,” Locri muttered.

“Quiet, Locri.” Marsia furrowed her brows, her head low as she turned back towards White. “Then why ever pretend there was?”

“To disguise my intention.” She flicked her sunglasses up, again hitting Marsia with her golden stare. “My goal is to create a hyperbola.”

“A hyperbola?”

“Two lines, headed straight for each other. But at the very last second, they diverge and never cross.”

As she spoke, the windows shattered. The vacuum of space began pulling at them, gnawing at their legs. Locri shouted something. She couldn’t hear it.

“We’ve seen where the intersection leads. Now let’s try it my way.”

Marsia lost her footing and found herself sucked into the void. Clawing at anything she could, she screamed to no avail. The air violently fled her lungs, leaving her ribcage empty. She shut her eyes tight.

Then, in an instant, she forgot it all.