(30 days after Nolan's crossing)

Nolan knows what he has to do.  He knows what the Vitalists have taught him and that he possesses a body of knowledge beyond their cannon.  He has no rational explanation for why he has this knowledge, but it's there none-the-less.  He knows he can do this. His confidence is derived from self-observation rather than hubris.

This conviction is also nudged along by the fact that if he does fail, he can try again, as many times as it takes.  Nolan, however, is aiming for one time.  Once will be tricky enough.

It's a solo mission: one man back, one man forward.  That's the plan.  Marcella will busy herself on last minute adjustments in the Dry Dock; Vira, along with her team, will be watching traffic in the Fold to ensure authorities do not disrupt his journey.

Marcella kisses his forehead, wishes him luck.  His mother mumbles the same, then turns her head back to her screen.  Just as he passes her though, her hand grips his—by the time he realizes she's touched him, she has already let go.  "Come back whole, son."

Nolan circles the room, studying the pulsing heart of the biomica.  It's taken him less time than he would have imagined to get used to this realm.  The biomicas are more than just structures, more even than living entities—they are familiars.  Nolan's heartbeat falls into sync with theirs.  Each one radiates an emotive quality: intellectual prowess, humor, unification, happiness, love—he feels these as a part of his own being, like an appendage he is only aware of when a biomica is in close proximity.

This one, the very first biomica he encountered, exudes an aura of protectiveness.  No wonder the Vitalists chose it as their Fold-accessing headquarters. 

Nolan has memorized the formulas for opening the Fold, but it has been weeks since he relied upon them.  All he actually needs to open it is sheer will power—as easy as putting a car into gear.

This is what he does now: he wills the Fold to open and voilà.  

He walks into it with no hesitation.

The Fold is comprised of every image ever produced in all the universes.  Most journeyers can't differentiate one image from another, nor would they want to; the number and speed in which they appear and disappear would render most people senseless.  In fact, most people lose perspective all together while in the Fold.  Many Vitalists have told him there is no time there, that their journey takes only a step, while others claim there is some sort of intangible path they can't quite recall clearly.  Nolan can sense every twist and turn.  He can process its images without becoming overwhelmed, changing the speed in which they appear to suit his purpose.    Most importantly, he can use their frequency to map his way from one realm to another.  The Vitalists use science, he uses intuition.

Nolan focuses on a series of images, slowing them down until he can single one out and hold it in front of him.  Each image he selects lacks personal connection to him—a sliced orange on a plate, a woman laughing, two sparrows huddled together on a wire at dawn.  It is the energy of these images that interests him.  They are from the dual realm—his dual realm.  That's where he needs to go.  He finds more images with the same energy signature until he has dozens, then hundreds surrounding him.

In his mind he reaches out to each and every image; he wills himself to become part of their energy field.  Then he resists it. 

Nolan does this back and forth, willing one thing, then willing the opposite, until he is the rope in a game of tug-o-war.  He brings more and more images in, increasing the tension between his opposing wills.

The universes swirl around him.  He rocks on his feet, steadies himself, then loses his balance again.  When he looks up, he sees himself standing a few feet away, the only clear image amongst the mass of swirling pictures. 

The rope has snapped in half.

"I'll stay here, make sure the Fold stays secure for you," the standing Nolan says.  He nods to show he understands and then picks himself up, turning towards the dual realm.

When journeyers find the pathway to the realm they wish to visit, normally all they have to do is follow a path and enter, but Nolan's task is not as simple as that.

He takes the dual realm images, flips from one to another.  Now his Vitalist training does come in handy.  He may be able to journey through the realms without their help, but undoing time is quite another matter.  He utters a series of memorized formulas.  As he speaks, he watches the images shift: the sky grows dark, the birds wake and fly from the wire, the orange is whole, packed in a bag, returned to a store, shipped to a farm, placed back on its branch, green, then shrinks until it becomes a blossom--time recede to the point Marcella has calculated for him. 

Not too far.  Never too far.  Go back only as far as what is absolutely necessary.  He pulls out the image of the laughing woman.  She isn't laughing now.  Her face is taut, pensive as she sits in front of a computer in a darkened room.

This is what Vira told him to look for.  He opens an exit route from the Fold and steps out.

#

(The day the Callers open the Fold)

"We're so close.  This might be it." 

He tests the straps securing his wrist, already knowing it's hopeless. Whatever 531 is close to, he supposes he'll find out soon enough.

He lets the pain come, closing his eyes so he can focus on the hum of the equipment he's attached to.  When he opens them again, a technician he's never seen before is bent over him, attempting to undo his restraints.

"What number are you?" He's surprised they'd let a newbie in to deal with him right in the midst of their big important "this might be it" experiment.

The young man looks at him quizzically.  "I'm Nolan.  I've been sent by friends to rescue you."

"I have friends?"  This is almost bigger news than the fact that someone intends to rescue him.

After fumbling with the strap another second, Nolan succeeds and rounds the gurney to undo his other arm.  "You have people who would die for you, Oliver.  Wait—don't pull those wires off yet.  As soon as you do, they'll know something's up.  I'll need at least a minute to open the Fold again and adjust the time."

"I can't understand half of what you're saying.  Did you just call me Oliver?"  Oliver sits up carefully so as not to pull out any wires suctioned to his head and chest.

"Sound familiar?"

"Maybe."  Oliver peers over Nolan's shoulder, catching the slumped figure of 260 lying next to the lab's door.  A chair has been placed under the doorknob to bar entry. "Is he dead?"

"Just knocked out.  Okay, I'm going to move things along." Nolan stands next to Oliver's gurney and brings his hand up to the empty air, which is not so empty all of a sudden.  A lip of silver peels away to show a narrow tunnel.  "Hold on Oliver.  I need a little more time or we could end up in the Pleistocene era."

"What?  I don't follow."

"Follow is all you have to do.  The understanding part can wait until you're safe.  When I give the sign, tear those wires off and run, and I mean run, into the Fold." He points to the gaping rip in the universe.  Even Oliver's muddled brain could have guessed that was what Nolan was referring to. 

"I'll be waiting in there to lead you home and explain everything to you." Nolan's attention remains unwavering as someone begins pounding on the door.

Oliver doesn't know why he trusts this guy.  Maybe it has something to do with the fact that as soon as Nolan says his name is Oliver, Oliver knows it to be true.  If Nolan can give him his name back, maybe he can give him back the rest of his identity too.

A flurry of activity is taking place on the other side of the door.  Over the loud speaker, a woman's voice orders Nolan to stop whatever it is he's doing.  "That's 531," says Oliver.  "She sounds pissed."

"We've been made.  Might as well lose those wires."

Oliver removes them all and stands on wobbly legs next to Nolan.

"I just need a few more seconds."  Nolan's barely finished this sentence when a drilling sound shakes the door again.  A second after that, the door is lifted off of its hinges.

Oliver picks up the chair and clobbers the first person who tries to get into the room.  The man falls to the side, his head slapping hard against the door frame before his body collapses into the person behind him.  Oliver winces, but his hands stay steady on the chair.  He is one crazy magical portal away from freedom.  If he doesn't fight for it, he'll never forgive himself.

"Leave me to that." Nolan pulls out a silver object from his jacket and with his other hand shoves Oliver in the direction of the Fold.  He holds the object out and it flashes a blinding light at the people charging through the door.  Momentarily stunned, they pause in their attack.  "It's ready.  Go through.  Remember, I'll be waiting for you."

Oliver lets the chair fall to the floor.  As it hits the ground, apples spill out of a wicker basket.  He blinks and the apples are gone.  "You're not coming with me?  But you just said you'd be waiting for me.  In there!"

The authorities shake their heads as the stun from Nolan's weapon begins wearing out.  "I told you, I'll explain it later.  Now go!"

Oliver stares at the Fold.  He could swear this wasn't the first time he'd stood on its brink.  "Oliver!" Nolan calls to him, only that can't be.  Nolan is busy dealing with 531 and her angry minions.  He hasn't opened his mouth. 

He takes a step forward.  "Oliver, hurry." The voice is louder, but it still feels like it's speaking to him from another lifetime.  As he steps over the threshold, he turns back in time to see Nolan detonate his device once again.  It begins to light and doesn't stop until that light is twice as bright as the last time he used it.  But now it isn't aimed at the authorities.

Nolan presses it to his own head.

A blinding light rams Oliver like a charging bull, propelling him through the Fold.  He tries desperately to see what happened to Nolan, but the push has done more than move him a few feet away.  The events which just occurred seconds ago already seem like a memory.  Before he can give this more thought, a hand muffles the scream he hadn't realized was coming from him for the past seconds, hours, months.  Oliver struggles to break free, but this struggle ends as soon as he sees the face of the person restraining him.

Nolan releases his grip, grasps his hand, and pulls him to his feet.  "I told you I'd be waiting for you, didn't I?"

A/N:  This was a complicated chapter to write.  If you enjoyed it, let me know with a vote, a comment, a virtual cookie (peanut butter chocolate chip will do just fine)—whatever you think it warrants!

We've got a lot going on in today's update: the ins and outs of biomicas and the Fold, Nolan's game of tug-o-war, time travel, and finally... a rescue!  Whew!  What do you think of Nolan's journey through the Fold?  He has a much different perception of it than Avie or Marcella, that's for sure.  Oliver's last view of the Nolan that rescued him is of him holding his strange glowing device to his head and detonating it.  What do you think the game plan is here?

Ready for another awesome shout-out?  Today it's for @TEJJohnson, author of CATAINDAR. This action fantasy follows Luisa from her socially brutal school in London to her grandmother's house in Wales, where she comes across a portal to an underground world filled with magical cat-like people.  Tim has such a wonderful writing style. Trust me, CATAINDAR is an adventure you're going to want to take!

Today's media image is courtesy of John Gordy, Flickr Creative Commons.