May 22, 2033 [19]

Water drew metal to wood. The rowboat rebounded off the dock and floated, for a moment unbound, until the slack of its line ran out and the lake renewed the cycle.

James measured the lifespan between collisions at roughly four seconds though there were variations. Changes in the wind, the wake from a boat miles off and unseen, a school of fish changing course, or any number of minute alterations gave or took away a half second of the boat's release. The details were irrelevant, however. It wasn't going anywhere.

He wondered if she would be amused by his little metaphor.

James closed his eyes and listened to the tick-tocking rowboat. He'd built it a year and a half ago, though he'd yet to take it out. He thought it appropriate after building the dock. He thought the dock necessary after building the house fifty yards from the coast of Lake Michigan. But again, the details were irrelevant.

Seated at a detached patio – also handmade – James watched the house's shadow stretch past him as the lake's breeze streamed through the trees surrounding his property and raised goosebumps over his bare skin. He should have put a shirt on hours ago. Details...

There was a faint vibration at the base of his skull. He squinted to activate his smart lenses and a phone number appeared in the air in front of him. Beneath it was a timer marking the call length and beneath that, a green circle and red square. The number had a 312 area code. Chicago.

He hadn't looked her up in this life – something that took a great deal of discipline. This had been their second life apart – a separation she'd requested out of the blue. A couple of lives to clear my head, she'd said. He knew she'd come back eventually, because all they had were each other. He could wait. He'd had practice.

But one and a half seemed less than "a couple." He'd prepared himself for three or four lives at a minimum. If he answered the call now and the voice was not hers... He felt the weight in his stomach and breathed in slowly to steady himself.

The call ended and the numbers and symbols disappeared. A moment later, the vibration returned. Again, he activated the display and the same 312 number appeared in front of him. He stared at the number and blinked twice to view its details.

"CHICAGO, IL - CITIZEN CLASS - UNLISTED"

Though he hadn't looked her up, he'd caught a news article covering her philanthropic work in Chicago's inner city three years earlier. It could be...

The deal they had made – the deal she dictated – was zero contact. Don't call her. She'll call me. Her only other condition was no suicides. And while it would have made the hiatus easier by closing the gap considerably, he understood. After what she had gone through to find him... After his pair of suicides in the name of expedience had left her stranded and alone – an agonizing existence he knew like the back of his hand... She didn't have to ask.

The fourteen lives they'd shared together after her consciousness found his had been as close to heaven as James could imagine. Though they'd yet to solve the mystery of how Martha had come to enter his loop, their bliss was too pure for either to care. But something had changed two lives before this – something she refused to share with him. 

The call ended then immediately reappeared. James couldn't imagine who it might be. There wasn't anyone with a reason to call him. Dialing and redialing would suggest an emergency and Martha and James' immortality precluded life and death circumstances by definition.

But there wasn't much point in ignoring the call if he was going to obsess over it. He would just have to answer and ask whoever it was to stop calling. Staring at the green circle, he blinked twice and the smart lenses marked the call active.

"Hello," he said.

"James."

It was Martha. Her voice cracked slightly with age as it always did, but came through with the unnatural hyper-clarity his tel-implant created. Bypassing the ears, it sent electrical impulses to the brain's auditory center giving a somewhat eerie sensation of the speaker being inside one's head.

"James?" she repeated.

He sat in silence, ill-prepared for the call. Or was it passive aggression? Now it's her turn to wait.

"James, please-"

"I'm here," he answered calmly.

"Where? Where are you?" she demanded.

"That's it? 120 years and you just jump right-"

"I know. I know," she interrupted. "I'm sorry. We... we need to talk about why I had to... I don't know. Regardless, this is not the time."

"Not the time?" he pressed, though his voice remained calm. "Well it must be nice to be you, Martha. You decide when we separate. You decide when we reconnect. You decide when we-"

"I get it! I'm sorry. Please, you have to trust me. Where are you?"

James stared at his white chest hair fluttering in the breeze, exhaled, then relented. "Wisconsin. About thirty miles up the lake from Milwaukee."

"That's great! I need you to come to me. I'm in Chicago, I'll send the location."

"Can I know why? Am I at least worthy of that information?"

"There's someone you need to meet."

"New boyfriend?"

"Goddamnit, James! Stop! I know I've hurt you. But right now, you have to get over it. This is bigger than..." From inside his head, she sighed then spoke, "He says he knows us."

James sat up in his chair.

Martha continued. "He says he knows what we are... and how... and why."

James stood. "Send the location." He ended the call, left to retrieve a shirt, and then to his car.

Author's note:

And we're back!  Thanks so much for starting "Drifting Along the Infinite Spring"!  Sorry for the short chapter.  Chapter 2 will be short as well, but from there on, we'll be settling in.

Anyways, not quite where we left off, is it?  I wanted to give you a glimpse of one of the places we're heading.  But first, we have to go back...

Like, totally 30's detail:  No.  Sorry.  I had a whole bit about the unprecedented success of JoJo Siwa's first term as President, but I just can't.  We'll be jumping around too much in this story.  No decade specific trivia this time. :(