“Thank you,” Aristotle replied. He folded his arms and leaned so far back that Dak thought he might topple off of the stool. But his balance held steady. “I have a feeling you’re going to make a bit more sense this time around — you look to be a smart one.”
Dak smiled a forced, sad little smile. Had the creator of the Hystorians just complimented or insulted him? Both, it seemed. He took a deep breath and did as Riq had told him to. He went for it.
“Sir, I promise you I’ve never said something more important in my life — we need your help or the future of the world is in serious trouble. I’m talking, like, lots of people dying and bad guys ruling the world and everybody falling into fiery cracks in the planet’s crust as earthquakes destroy the world. That kind of trouble.”
Aristotle said nothing, which was the best Dak could hope for so far.
“This is the hard part,” he continued. “I know this is going to sound crazy, and you might get up and order those jerks to come chop my head off, but I don’t know what else to do but come out and say it and hope that you will be able to accept it.” He paused, and Aristotle’s bushy gray eyebrows rose so high they almost collided with his hairline.
“We’re from the future,” Dak finally said, working hard not to let his face squeeze up into a pathetic wince. “Far, far in the future. Like, more than a couple thousand years. As . . . I’m sure . . . someone as smart as you” — he was losing it, he was losing it — “I mean, from what we know, you’re the kind of man who wouldn’t be surprised to learn that humanity advances far enough for such a thing to happen someday. Time travel. Am I right?”
Aristotle leaned forward, those same eyebrows now crashing down to half-cover his eyes. “Boy, I’ve said before that the high-minded man must care more for the truth than for what people think. And I can tell you that the number of people in this cluster of buildings who would believe you are, well, less numerous than the nostrils on your face. But if anyone will believe, and if anyone will preach it once he does, then you are looking at him now.” A huge smile started to form on Dak’s face, but Aristotle wiped it away with a quick and sharp look. “If, I said. If. A word with only two letters, but as important as all the words of language combined.”
Dak, in awe of the man’s sage words, could only bring forth a nod.
Aristotle turned to Sera. “I think the boy has opened up a floodgate. Let us see if you can channel the waters. Tell me more.”
Dak looked at his friend, hoping she didn’t mess things up.
Sera cleared her throat, obviously unprepared for the sudden shift in Aristotle’s attention. “Um, well, I can vouch for what he said. We used a time-travel device to come here, to meet you, and to warn you about something really bad that’s going to happen to —”
Aristotle leapt to his feet and held his hands out to silence Sera. “Now, wait, please. I’m not sure any of us are ready for such a leap. I believe time to be a fragile thing, as well as the fabric of reality from which it’s woven, and it worries me to hear of what may be or what may not.” He sat back down, his face troubled, looking at the floor as if for answers written in the stone. “My teacher of teachers . . . Years ago, we talked about such things, he and I. I’m not sure if he’s known in your . . . time.”
“Plato,” Dak blurted out before he could pause to think. “You and Plato will be known throughout history as two of the brightest minds . . . ever. You guys are totally famous.”
The philosopher relaxed once again, leaning back on his stool. “Like I said, I’ve always trusted my instinct, and the fact that we still sit here, speaking to one another, means that it has yet to warn me against your words. But . . .” He trailed off, scratching his beard and looking up into the sky.
Dak couldn’t let Aristotle make the same choice Lincoln had. If they were going to fix the Prime Break, they needed the man’s help. Dak glanced over at Sera, then at Riq. “You haven’t said anything yet. Pipe in and help us out a little.”
“Yes,” Aristotle added, seeming almost hopeful as he focused on Riq. “You appear older than these two. Perhaps we’ve saved the best for last.”
Dak felt a prick of jealousy, and expected a smug look from Riq. When the older boy didn’t throw it at him, Dak decided once and for all that their issues were officially a thing of the past. At least for a few minutes.
“Listen,” Riq began as he leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “This is really hard for all of us, I think. It makes me feel better that you seem so worried about time and messing it up. It shows you get it. But we’re here to tell you that things are already messed up. With . . .” He faltered for a second, looking to Dak and Sera for support, then surging ahead. “With your permission, we want to tell you about the future. Because we need your help to make things right. You’ll just . . . have to trust us that it’s okay to talk about. But we won’t until you say it’s okay.”
A long moment of silence passed, Aristotle passing his eyes from Riq to Sera to Dak, then starting all over again. And again. Dak could almost see the wheels spinning behind those eyes.
“I’ve made my decision,” the man finally said. “I want you to tell me everything you came here to say. And then we shall see where we are and what may come.”
Sera and Riq both looked at Dak. It was his moment to shine.
AND SO Dak went at it, spilling everything in a torrent of information that barely left him time to take proper breaths. About the Great Breaks, Aristotle’s belief that they needed to be corrected, his belief in eventual time travel, how the Hystorians came into existence because of his vision, the SQ . . . everything. After he’d told the story of the far future and how he and his friends had been sent back in time to set things right — and to find his missing parents — he quickly went through the list of the Breaks they’d conquered so far. And then it was time for the kicker. The final task.
“In three weeks,” Dak said, “an assassin is going to kill King Philip and his son Alexander the Third.” The look of complete horror that transformed Aristotle’s face made Dak stop before he went any further.
The man appeared as if he might cry. His lip trembled, his eyes grew dark, his entire body seemed to shrink.