The Duke’s anger effectively ended the argument between the siblings. Half an hour later, Kendra found herself holding onto the thin leather strap near the door as her body swayed back and forth like the tick of a metronome, as the carriage barreled down the country road. At six miles an hour, the journey to London would take approximately four hours, plus time to rest and water the horses, or to rent four more to take them the remainder of the way into the city. A month ago, the same journey had taken her less than thirty minutes in traffic in her rented Volkswagen Golf. Everything in this era was so damn slow.
“You must have patience, Miss Donovan.”
Surprised, Kendra wondered if she’d spoken out loud. Then she realized she was strumming her fingers impatiently on her knee. She forced herself to stop the telltale movement, her hand curling into a fist.
“Sorry.”
“Do not apologize. I, too, am anxious.” He leaned back against the cushioned seat and regarded her with interest. “Tell me, how do you travel in your time?”
“We’re a little beyond the horse-and-buggy stage.”
His eyes brightened. “There’s talk of building a contraption that uses steam, much like the newer ships.”
“That sounds promising.”
He gave her a vaguely disgruntled look, piqued as always by what she knew he considered her overly cautious nature. “Miss Donovan, this is a long journey. Surely you can tell me how you would accomplish the same journey in the future?”
Kendra lowered her eyes as she considered the matter. Finally, she said, “Well . . . I suppose I can tell you . . .”
He leaned forward eagerly. “Yes?”
She lifted her gaze. “We use a machine called a disintegrator-integrator. Basically it breaks down our atoms so we can be zapped from one place to another.”
His eyes widened. “You can instantly transport yourself to your destination? How extraordinary!”
“Yes, but you have to be careful not to have any flies in the chamber with you. You see, there have been instances where the atoms have mixed, and people have become a human-fly.”
“Good God! What do you do . . .” The blue-gray eyes narrowed suddenly. “Are you having sport with me, Miss Donovan?”
Kendra had to laugh. “Sorry, yes. But . . . oh, my God, you should see your face!”
“Hmm. Human-fly, indeed.”
“It was a good movie.”
“Movie—ah, yes, moving pictures.” Telling the Duke how people entertained themselves in the twenty-first century had seemed innocuous enough to Kendra.
“Come, Miss Donovan,” he continued, spreading his hands in an imploring gesture. “I understand your fear of changing the course of history, but surely no harm can come from discussing transportation?”
She gave him an ironic look. He was too intelligent not to understand that a nation’s progress and prosperity correlated directly to its transportation. History buffs liked to say the American West was won by the gun, but it was developed—economically, socially, politically—by the railroad. A nation that has the ability to move goods faster and more efficiently would always hold the advantage over a country that still operated by donkey and cart.
“The concept of traveling by machine is hardly new,” he continued. “When I was a boy, French inventor Nicolas-Joseph Cugnot designed a steam-driven vehicle to carry passengers. Why, only a few years ago, Richard Trevithick built his Puffing Devil that carried six men!”
“Hmm. Since we’re traveling in a horse-drawn carriage, I guess it wasn’t successful.”
“Unfortunately, no. The machine broke down several days later when it hit a ravine. And then burned up completely. Something to do with the water boiling out while it was left unattended, or some such nonsense. Despite these setbacks, I believe we are on the advent of new methods of transportation, much like the steam ships that are now replacing sail. Am I wrong?”
Kendra couldn’t resist the pleading look he gave her. “You’re not wrong. Mankind will see great advances in transportation.”
“And shall that include flight?”
Kendra had to smile. Did every generation dream of flying? “To the moon, and beyond.”
“My God.” Aldridge looked dazzled. “You are traveling to the moon? Has it been colonized?”
“No. And trips to the moon have been infrequent. More commonly, astronauts travel to the space station . . .” Realizing how easily information slipped out, Kendra pressed her lips together and shook her head.
“Space station? My God, what I wouldn’t give to see this future of yours, Miss Donovan. Tell me, what has mankind discovered about the planets? Are there other intelligent beings in the universe? Have we made contact? Can I not persuade you to tell me more, my dear?”
It was tempting. The Duke’s enthusiasm made Kendra feel like her own era was a beautifully carved sculpture, something to be held in awe, admired, and cherished. She’d taken so many things for granted.
She knew the Duke would be thrilled with the Internet, especially, and the speed at which information could travel. He corresponded with like-minded men of science and philosophy throughout Europe, sharing ideas and discussing theories, and she’d watched him dip his quill in ink and write long missives to be posted. It could take weeks, maybe even months, for a return letter. Slow, she thought again. For him to be able to pick up the phone, log on to Skype, or send an email, would seem wondrous, magical—even for a Man of Science.
“Miss Donovan?” he pressed, giving her a wheedling smile. “Surely no harm would come if you took me into your confidence?”
Jesus Christ. How did she know? “Can a butterfly flapping its wings in one part of the world cause a hurricane in another part of the world?”
Aldridge frowned. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“It’s a theory—the butterfly effect, also known as chaos theory. It purports that one seemingly inconsequential act can ripple out and create devastating consequences. Do you understand? I don’t know what your fellow scientists are working on. What if you shared something that I told you, and that information was the missing piece to a puzzle that one of your friends was working on? A puzzle that shouldn’t be solved for another decade or century? I could change history’s timeline.”
“But what if you shared something that would change the world for the better? Have you considered that, my dear?”
Kendra was silent for a long moment, then expelled a breath. “Fritz Haber,” she said.
“Pardon? Who is Fritz Haber?”
“He was a man who wanted to make lives better too.” She recalled an image of the man—balding, mustachioed, and round-faced, wearing Teddy Roosevelt–styled spectacles.
“And did he?”
“Yes. In the beginning. He invented a fertilizer that boosted crop production. He probably saved thousands from starvation.”
“That is extraordinary.”
“It was . . . until war broke out and his invention was weaponized.”
Kendra thought of the poisonous gas that the scientist had utilized for Germany during World War I, which had earned Fritz Haber a new moniker: the father of chemical warfare. In World War II, the Nazis would use his invention in their newly created gas chambers to kill millions of Jews, including some of Haber’s own relatives.
“I can’t predict how any knowledge that I share would affect history,” she said, “and mankind has enough problems without me messing around with it.”