Fast-Time at Aldmont High (The Time Flow Stories Book 1)
Fast-Time at Aldmont High
The Time-Flow Stories
#1
Laurence E Dahners
Copyright 2022
Laurence E Dahners
Kindle Edition
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
Other Books and Series
by Laurence E Dahners
Series
The Ell Donsaii series
The Vaz series
The Bonesetter series
The Blindspot series
The Proton Field series
The Hyllis family series
Single books (not in series)
The Transmuter’s Daughter
Six Bits (a collection of short length stories)
Shy Kids Can Make Friends Too
The Little Redheaded Boy and His Flying Saucer
For the most up to date information go to:
Laurence E Dahners website
Or the Amazon Author page
Table of Contents
Copyright 2022
Other Books and Series
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
Author’s Afterword
Acknowledgments
Other Books and Series
Author’s Note
Though this book can “stand-alone” please understand that it’s to some extent a continuation of the story that begins in the novelette “Porter” and the short story “Guitar Girl,” both of which can be found in my collection of short-length stories called Six Bits
Thus, it’ll be more interesting to read Fast Time at Aldmont High if you begin with those shorter stories.
I’ve minimized the repetition of explanations that would be redundant to the earlier books in order to provide a better reading experience for those who’ve read those stories.
Prologue
Reiter’s News Service, Vinnea, Anstrup— After a brief deliberation, the World Court convicted Barras Anshed, President of Cyreea, of using banned neurotoxins to attack his own citizens in the town of Dainier. Presiding Judge Haikam pronounced the conviction, describing the evidence as voluminous and incontrovertible. He pronounced Anshed’s actions, “a travesty against humanity.”
When one of the observers confronted Judge Haikam afterward, asking whether there were any teeth behind the conviction, the judge wearily shook his head.
Though world leaders have almost uniformly expressed their revulsion regarding Anshed’s actions, none have evidenced any intention to act. Not even any modifications of trade agreements have been put forth. To justify their inaction, they’ve cited the conventional wisdom that embargoes and other such maneuvers will hurt the Cyreean people more than their leader.
It seems that Anshed is unlikely to suffer consequences unless he makes the mistake of leaving Cyreea, a country he holds in an iron grip.
Will no one do anything to stop his reign of terror?
Chapter One
Witt Ryllin first evidenced a talent for affecting the flow of time while he was in high school.
***
Not having realized Cinna even knew he was alive, Witt felt shocked when she stopped him on the stairs. “What?” he asked, later realizing this conversational foray lacked style.
Cinna seemed uncertain; an emotion Witt hadn’t realized ever affected the consciousness of girls as pretty as she. “Um,” she said, “I’ve heard you’re very good at math?”
Wide-eyed, Witt said, “Who told you that?” He was, but didn’t want other kids to know. He had enough social stigma without word getting around that he was smart.
Cinna glanced away, then back to Witt, “I’m having a lot of trouble with calculus…”
Unsurprised, Witt just stared at her. He had an unconscious bias that all nice-looking girls were bad at math. Cognitively, he should know it wasn’t true. In fact, given a few moments to think about it, he would’ve realized that, because the three kids at his school who had better GPAs than he did—who, perforce, must be good at math—were all non-ugly girls, the stereotype was already disproven.
Looking embarrassed, Cinna said, “I was hoping you could help me?”
“Oh,” Witt said, startled. Though a few other kids seemed to have figured out he was a good student despite his diligent efforts to hide it, no one had ever asked him for help before. He knew some of the nerds tutored other kids and charged for it, but Witt desperately didn’t want anyone to think of him as a nerd. What if she’s asking me because she…? he wondered momentarily, then decided the chance Cinna harbored any romantic inclination toward Witt Ryllin had to be infinitesimally small. Isn’t she Bear Ballidge’s girlfriend? he wondered musingly. Still… He cleared his throat. “Um, I don’t think I’m your best choice…” Witt broke off as he saw Bear Ballidge turn the corner onto the landing at the top of the flight of stairs.
Bear’s eyes lit when he saw Cinna, then narrowed when they jumped to Witt. He grated, “Hey, dweeb, are you talkin’ to my girl?!”
“Um…” Witt said, uncertainly, a little dismayed to realize he ranked so low in the school’s social standings that one of his classmates didn’t seem to know his name. This school’s not that big, he thought.
Bear lunged forward, his fist coming around in a mighty roundhouse swing that rocketed toward Witt’s face.
That is what initiated Witt’s first time-flow event.
Wide-eyed, Witt started trying to dodge to his right, fully certain he’d never be able to move his head and upper body fast enough to get them out of harm’s way, but still making the effort.
He was already anticipating the avalanche of pain he’d feel when the blow struck.
Abruptly, everything suddenly went silent and dark.
Witt got the sensation that he was moving faster.
He felt like the oncoming train of Bear’s fist, even though he couldn’t perceive it in the darkness, was now moving at a snail’s pace.
Witt thought he was easily ducking out of the path of Bear’s fist.
Once Witt felt his head was out of the way, he sensed himself slowing back down. There was light now, though colors seemed off…
Bear’s knuckles flew past.
Without the impact he’d expected, Bear stumbled forward.
Witt scrambled to the side.
Bear’s foot came down only halfway on a stair. It immediately slipped off, causing him to lurch and sprawl full-length down the stairs.
Bear’s shoulder struck Witt on its way past, staggering him back. For a moment Witt thought he’d tumble down the stairs too, but the colors got even weirder and he felt that he sped back up, though not as much as when it went dark.
This gave him time to carefully place his foot fully on a dark, bizarrely-off-color stair.
He looked up to see Bear almost horizontal in the air—as if he were swimming.
Bear was so dim he was hard to see, except for deep red panels on his letter jacket, panels which should’ve been the school color—violet.
Things sped up again and colors and sounds returned to normal.
A minute later, Bear was sitting on the lowest step, holding his wrist and bawling like a baby.
***
Witt sat in the waiting area outside the principal’s office, awaiting his judgment for fighting in school, an offense that car
ried a mandatory two-week suspension for both parties. At present, Principal Gardner was talking to several witnesses. When Witt had taken his seat, he’d fully intended to work out his defense in his mind.
Instead, he found he couldn’t stop thinking about what’d happened on the stairs. Did I imagine myself speeding up? he wondered. And getting dark with weird reddish colors? He’d read stories about people who claimed the world slowed around them when they were frightened, but he didn’t think in those cases the world slowed while the person involved could still move normally. His impression from those stories was that everything was in slow motion. The person experiencing the phenomenon moved just as slowly, still unable to dodge fists or bullets…
Didn’t they?
Impatient to experiment with the effect, he glanced around to see if anyone was watching. They wouldn’t be able to tell I was doing anything, he thought. But I should wait to do any experiments until this thing with the principal’s settled. I’ve got to focus on how to deal with it. It’s really gonna upset Mom if I get suspended.
My defense, he thought trying to get his mind back in the game, should be based on the fact that I didn’t start the fight or even fight back. Bear started it and all I did was… Witt’s eye had focused on the analog clock on the office wall. Not on the time, but on the big second hand, ticking its jerky way around the circumference. Witt focused on the sensation he’d had when he sped up during Bear’s attack…
The room dimmed, colors changed, and the second hand didn’t jerk ahead when it should’ve.
What felt like an extra second passed before the hand clicked ahead another second.
Whoa, Witt said to himself, letting himself slow again. It does happen… and I seem to have some control over it!
The principal’s administrative assistant rose suddenly to her feet, knocking her chair back into the cabinet behind her.
When Witt’s eyes went to her, he saw she was looking at him with alarm.
“Are you okay?” Mrs. James asked, looking alarmed.
Witt nodded, saying, “I’m fine.” And why wouldn’t I be, he wondered.
Still staring at him, she said, “You jerked around in your seat. I, uh, I thought you were having a seizure. Are you epileptic?”
“No,” Witt said, doing his best to sound calm and unworried. However, he thought, Shit, of course my movements look jerky when I speed up. Then, I wonder if it’s even possible to hold still enough that she wouldn’t notice I was in fast-time? To Mrs. James, he said, “I’m fine. I, uh, was reliving Bear throwing that punch at me and me trying to get out of the way.”
“Oh,” she said, her eyes still suspicious.
When she looked away, Witt focused on the clock and sped himself up again, trying to hold completely still while pushing harder, trying to go fast enough that the second hand stopped moving. It promptly got so dark he couldn’t see the clock. However, he thought the second-hand stopped because he couldn’t hear ticking. After what felt like thirty seconds, he thought he heard another tick, and after another minute, one more tick.
Witt let himself slow back down so the lights would come back on. He wondered whether the second hand seemed to take longer to click ahead the second time because he’d been progressively speeding himself, or whether he’d sped time when it was already halfway through the first second, then it had to go through a full second before the next click. Or, my perception of how much time is passing could be way off, he thought. I should use the stopwatch app on my phone to watch my personal seconds pass while I’m doing this.
He looked up at Mrs. James. She was staring at him again.
“What?” he asked. “Did I twitch again?”
Looking concerned, she slowly shook her head. “It was more like you… got blurry.”
Crap, Witt thought. I can’t hold still enough. Tiny motions like breathing and fidgeting would make me look blurry if I’m moving really fast. To Mrs. James, he said, “Um, I felt like I had a shiver. You know, like what happens sometimes after something bad happens?”
She tilted her head thoughtfully, then shook it. “It was definitely more than a shiver. I think you should see the nurse.”
Would that be better or worse than seeing the principal? Witt wondered, thinking perhaps he should agree with her. Or maybe not. I’d probably just get stuck seeing them both.
He was opening his mouth to say he felt fine and didn’t need to see the nurse when the door of Principal Gardner’s office opened, saving him. The students’ who’d witnessed the episode with Bear shuffled out, giving Witt side-eyed looks he didn’t understand.
No one spoke to him.
Cinna wasn’t amongst them and Witt wondered whether she’d be willing to tell the principal she’d been the one who started the conversation with Witt that got Bear upset. Maybe not, Witt thought. Bear seems like the kind of guy who wouldn’t want her talking to other guys, even if it was just for help with her studies.
“Mr. Ryllin,” Gardner said, waving Witt into his office. The older man dropped wearily into his chair. “Close the door.” When Witt had done so, but remained standing, Gardner impatiently said, “Sit, sit. Don’t loom over me.” He asked Witt to tell his version of what’d happened.
Witt did so, stumbling a couple of times when he inadvertently reached the precipice of saying something about how time had slowed.
His halting explanation didn’t seem to tickle suspicion. Gardner said, “That pretty much agrees with what the other kids said. So, the facts don’t seem to be in doubt. No one thinks you did anything to incite Mr. Ballidge. In fact, the other students seem to think he’s pretty combustible.”
Witt nodded, not wanting to say anything to screw up a situation that seemed to be going his way.
The principal studied Witt a moment, then said, “This doesn’t have anything to do with who’s at fault, since it seems pretty conclusively proven the guilty party was Bear, but…”
Witt had a sinking feeling, but once again said nothing for fear of digging himself a hole that didn’t exist.
After a moment Mr. Gardner tugged his ear and pensively said, “The other students seemed to be in awe of how… quickly you dodged. Do you have martial arts training? Boxing, maybe?”
Witt shook his head, “No, sir. Maybe it was just adrenaline? I’ve felt pretty shaky since then.” He felt proud of having inserted a possible justification for what Mrs. James had seen in the outer office. Then immediately decided that Gardner would see through his explanation. Witt knew adrenaline was secreted by glands. The adrenal glands, he thought. It’d take a minute or so for something secreted into the bloodstream to get around your system and take effect, wouldn’t it? Even if it’s a lot faster than that, for sure it’s a lot longer than it would’ve taken Bear’s fist to hit me.
Either Gardner didn’t think of the gland issue, or he knew adrenaline worked instantly by some means Witt didn’t understand. The principal shrugged, “That’s probably it. In any case, you’re out of here with the admonition to stay out of trouble, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Witt said standing and opening the door. He left Gardner’s office and quickly strode across Mrs. James’ territory in the outer office. The admin was on the phone and, out of the corner of his eye, Witt saw her lift a halting hand. He pretended not to notice, striding out the door and away down the hall before she’d have a chance to tell him to go see the nurse.
“Witt!”
Witt turned and saw his best and perhaps only real friend, Jesse Caldwell, trotting down the hall after him.
“Hey, Jesse,” Witt said, still walking quickly. He didn’t want to talk to anyone about his new ability until he understood it better. He wanted to get home and start experimenting with it. To learn more about it before he had any more events or had to explain it to anyone
“What the hell, man?!” Jesse said, jogging faster to catch up. “You trying to avoid me?”
Witt didn’t answer that one.
Despite Witt’s trying to ignore him J
esse caught up and asked, “How in holy hell’d you dodge that punch, Wittless?! One moment you’re about to get creamed, the next your head’s suddenly off to one side and Bear’s flyin’ down the stairs!”
Still walking quickly, Witt glanced at his friend. “You were there? How come you didn’t get called into the principal’s office with the other kids?”
Jesse gave him a surprised look, “You know I avoid involvement. But I was at the bottom of the stairs and saw you talkin’ to Cinna. I was just wonderin’ why she was talking to you when she could have me, but then Bear came outta nowhere.”
“You saw it?” Witt asked, incredulously, upset his supposed friend hadn’t stood up for him with the principal.
Jesse shrugged, “Didn’t I just say so? I claimed I didn’t see nothin’ when Jake was tracking down witnesses, I didn’t want to get sucked into your mess.” As if Jesse couldn’t understand what Witt was upset about, he went on, “The bigger question’s how’re you still alive? Bear’s a big-ass dude.”
“Just call me ‘the Dodger,’” Witt, said sarcastically.
“Come on, man! No one could’ve dodged that punch! Sure as hell not Witt Ryllin, my slow movin’, clumsy-ass buddy.”
Witt shrugged, irritated by the insult—mostly because it was true. He was a jogger, not a sprinter. “Obviously, someone could’ve, because I did.” He shrugged, “I think I just got lucky. Maybe I’d started moving out of his way before he started throwin’ that punch. Or,” he glanced at Jesse, “maybe I’m a mind reader and knew what he was about to do?”
Rolling his eyes, Jesse shook his head, “Naw, man. You moved so fast you were a blur.”
Witt kept his eyes straight ahead, wondering if he should try bringing Jesse in on his secret. After all, I’m probably gonna need someone to help me figure out how it works. Someone to run a stopwatch app and tell me what they’re seeing when I’m in fast-time. He blinked in surprise, Oh, hell no, Jesse’ll want to do something… immoral or even illegal with it. Rob a bank or something. Witt said, “You’re right. I’m no athlete. So, if I looked like a blur, you probably need to stop playing with yourself. Or, you could leave your eyes messed up. That way you could keep thinking the girls you like