Their suits were torn and frayed in multiple places. Agent Green’s tie had been sliced off below the knot. Agent Brown’s tie was completely gone, and both men were covered head to toe in what appeared to be soot and mud.

  “Hello, Mr. Collins. We need to speak with Kasia,” Agent Brown said.

  “What in the world happened to you two?”

  “Genghis Khan attacked our office. Luckily, some woolly mammoths were able to cut him off at Sixth and Arch,” Agent Green said.

  “I see,” Dad said.

  “You guys look terrible,” Kasia said.

  Agent Brown nodded. “Yes, well, we’ve been fighting to keep Temüjin from overrunning our office.”

  “The way things have been going, I don’t think you’re joking,” Dad said.

  “Trust me, we aren’t. Mr. and Mrs. Collins, we’re not here to harass you. We’re not here to intimidate you. We are here to ask you and your daughter for your help,” Agent Brown said. He turned his attention to Kasia.

  “You are one smart lady, Kasia Sierra Collins,” he said, and got down on one knee. “Some eighty years ago, our government tried to harness technology they didn’t fully understand. Back then, a very smart young lady like you was able to take control of that technology. What you did was wrong,” said Agent Brown, “but so was what we did.”

  “None of that matters now,” Agent Green said. “The important thing—the thing that really matters—is that we need your help to close the doors we both had a hand in opening.”

  “The very nature of reality is warping. If we don’t fix it soon, dinosaurs, antique locomotives, and ancient warlords will be the least of our worries. The entire universe may rip itself to shreds. If you and your parents will accompany us to our headquarters, we have the most advanced equipment available. We can help you fix this before it goes too far,” Agent Brown said.

  A platoon of soldiers wearing Roman legion attire marched in close formation past the front window of the house. Kasia’s dad pointed silently at the window. Agent Brown and Agent Green turned their heads just as the last man carrying a spear walked past.

  “If it hasn’t already,” Agent Green said.

  Kasia pushed her glasses up on her nose and, turning to her parents, said, “What do you think we should do, Mom? Dad?”

  They each gave the other a long, concerned look.

  “I think as long as we are with you, it will be okay,” her dad said. “We should all have a hand in fixing it.”

  Mrs. Collins said, “I think there is enough blame to go around about who caused this.”

  Kasia nodded.

  “Okay, I have two requests,” she said.

  Agent Brown rose to his feet. “And they are?”

  Kasia put her hands on her hips. “One—no matter what—I get to bring Rahim home. And two, I won’t ever get in trouble for the tiny, eensy-weensy bit of hacking I did to get in your system.”

  “Tiny bit of hacking?” Agent Green raised an eyebrow.

  Kasia shrugged.

  The house began to tremble. Out the window, they could see a small herd of woolly mammoths being chased by a group of men dressed in animal skins.

  “There are mammoths running from some cavemen now,” she said.

  Agent Brown and Agent Green exchanged a glance.

  “We should get going,” Agent Brown said.

  * * *

  Kasia thought the computer lab was what her house would look like when she grew up. It was full of state-of-the-art equipment that also looked really, really cool. There was a whole wall of processors taller than her dad that were ringed in a purple neon light. There were rows upon rows of wide big-screen monitors. People in white coats ran around like mice in a maze as they went from monitor to monitor, checking and rechecking data streams.

  Kasia was sitting at one of the 60-inch monitors. They had given her a headset and hooked up her processor to the monitor. A white-coated government scientist was talking to her while taking notes on a tablet.

  “How did you solve the spatial displacement equation, though?” she asked.

  Kasia pushed her glasses up on her nose. “I didn’t really. But by tapping into the wave signal on your temporal satellite, I was able to piggyback right over that problem.”

  The scientist nodded furiously as she typed on her tablet. “Fascinating.”

  Agent Green appeared next to them, wearing a new tie and a change of clothes. “Yes, we are all quite impressed. But can we try to call your friend so we can keep time and space from disintegrating?”

  “She reminds me of myself,” a whispery voice said. Everyone stopped talking and turned around. Kasia saw an elderly woman in an electric wheelchair at the door of the computer laboratory. She had thick gray hair cut into a large Afro. She wore wide-frame glasses with a pearl chain hooked to the temples. Agent Brown walked with her as she drove her chair over to the desk where Kasia was sitting and held out her hand.

  “Dr. Jackson, may I introduce Kasia Collins, our young genius,” he said.

  Kasia stood, took the woman’s hand, and shook it gently.

  “Kasia, this is Dr. Evelyn Jackson. She is the director of our division,” Agent Brown said.

  “I’m also the last living scientist from the experiment that started all this mess, young lady. Of course, back then they didn’t allow people like us to put our names on any of the final reports,” Dr. Jackson said.

  “You . . . you were at the Philadelphia Experiment?” Kasia asked.

  Dr. Jackson nodded. “October 28, 1943. Three days before Halloween. That was fitting. I had been part of an all-female civilian welding and electrician unit. They called us the Black Rosies. Six months before they flipped the switch on the experiment, we were moved from our regular assignments in the yard to this top-secret mission that they said could turn the tide of the war. When they found out me and a few others in our unit were actually really good with numbers, they put us inside the lab and had us check and double-check the equations the scientists were using while the scientists were safe on the other side of the yard,” she said. She squeezed Kasia’s hand.

  “We told them that their equations were off, but they didn’t want to listen to us. Things were . . . different back then for people like us. I can still see that ship, the way it lit up like a glow stick. My Lord, it was like seeing lightning in a bottle, then the bottle melted and re-formed itself. Those poor men on the boat.” Dr. Jackson shook her head.

  “You see, they were trying to make the boat invisible. But what they really did was teleport it backward and forward through time. Tore the ship apart on a molecular level, then snapped it back together. It was . . . terrifying. Those scientists never admitted their mistake. But for some seventy-nine years, they have been chasing that mistake, trying to bend it to their will. After the war, I got married, raised a family, and went back to college. When I got my PhD in physics, the government came calling to ask me to help them fix that mistake. See, they decided they finally wanted to listen to me,” Dr. Jackson said as she gave Agents Brown and Green a quick glance.

  “And now they’ve come calling for you. You did something a team of scientists and engineers working for nearly a century couldn’t. You sent your friend back in time. Safely. Yet that very act has destabilized reality. So, I’ve come down out of my very comfy office to learn how you did it and make sure no one ever does it again. Human beings are remarkable creatures, but we can also be greedy. I don’t think time travel is something we need to possess. Do you, Kasia?” Dr. Jackson asked. Agents Brown and Green looked down at the floor. The other scientists in the laboratory busied themselves with their equations.

  “No, ma’am. It’s too dangerous,” Kasia said.

  “Smart girl,” Dr. Jackson said.

  “Are you . . . are you gonna get in trouble if we fix it and nobody can use it again?” Kasia asked.

  Dr. Jackson laughed. “No, I’m too old and I’ve been here too long. And I know too much,” she said. Then she winked at Kasia. Kasia smiled.

  “Now, if I understand the equations you and my fine folks here have been working on, bringing your friend back should reset everything correctly?” Dr. Jackson said.

  “Yeah—I mean yes, ma’am. I think so,” Kasia said. “His name is Rahim, ma’am.”

  “Then let’s make that call to Rahim. I’ll take care of the rest,” Dr. Jackson said.

  “Right. Should be easy to get him home now since I don’t have to break into the system. Again,” Kasia said. She pressed enter and his phone began to ring in her headset and from the monitor speakers. Everyone in the laboratory collectively held their breath.

  Kasia raised her head and saw the strange person from the alley again, now standing in the far corner of the lab. This time the person was wearing a bright yellow jacket and a pair of red pants, yellow gloves, and shiny black boots. The black helmet had been replaced with a red one. The person seemed to be nodding toward her.

  Kasia cut her eyes right to left. No one else noticed the person in the helmet. Kasia was about to ask her mom if she saw anyone when Rahim answered the phone.

  “Kasia? I was just about to call you,” Rahim said.

  “I’m so glad it’s you answering your phone.”

  “Who else would it be?”

  “Seriously, Ra? How many times have you lost this phone?”

  Agent Green cleared his throat and pointed at his wristwatch.

  “Oh yeah. You can come home now.”

  “What? Why didn’t you say that first?”

  “I’m saying it now, bighead. Now get back here. You are not gonna believe where I am.”

  * * *

  Rahim walked to the front door. He turned and looked at his dad, er, Omar. His uncle Shaka and his grandfather. The three of them were standing in the middle of the living room. Grandpa Sam had his arm around each of his sons.

  “I guess this is it. Thank you all for letting me crash here,” Rahim said.

  “Be safe, son,” Grandpa Sam said.

  “Later,” Shaka said.

  “Wait, before you go, tell me, do I become a famous rapper?” Omar asked.

  Mr. Reynolds frowned.

  “Don’t ever give up on your dreams, Omar,” Rahim said. It was something his dad would say to him. After a long speech about personal responsibility.

  “Hey, who wins the Super Bowl next year?” Cy asked.

  Rahim laughed. “Y’all be good.” He typed his address and the current year into the search bar. Then he pushed the little magnifying glass icon.

  The world around him began to shimmer as a halo of bluish-white light enveloped him. He felt the familiar floating sensation and shut his eyes tight.

  Then he was gone.

  “Man, I wish he’d told me who won the Super Bowl,” Cy said wistfully.

  RAHIM FELT LIKE HE was falling. He opened his eyes.

  A few years ago, his dad had taken the whole family to see a 3D movie. The images created by the cheap plastic glasses were cool, but Rahim had expected to feel like he was actually in the movie.

  That was how he felt now. Like he was in a movie. Except this movie was the entire history of the universe, and it was set to run at three times the regular speed. He saw lumps of rock swirling around stars and becoming planets. Comets streaked through the solar system. He saw the moon and the earth begin their long dance. He watched as mountains rose and fell. He saw the pyramids being built and the Zulus marching across what would become South Africa. He saw all this and more. More than he could understand. The sensation of falling strengthened, and he closed his eyes.

  Then, suddenly, he stopped falling. He opened his eyes again.

  He was standing on the front step of his house— 224 St. Albans Street—not a burned-out husk. The cold February air whipped around him and searched for openings in his wardrobe. The streetlamps were just beginning to glow. The sun had set, and the neighborhood was quiet.

  Rahim put his hand on the doorknob.

  “I’m home. I’m really home,” he said.

  He turned the knob and opened the door.

  He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

  The first thing he noticed was the house was brighter than he remembered. There were two big floor lamps in each corner of the living room that were glowing like a couple of lighthouses.

  The next thing he noticed was his dad’s bookcase was missing. As was his recliner. Then he saw something that really took his breath away.

  “No way!” he said.

  There was a huge 72-inch flat-screen television on the wall where the bookcase used to reside. On a coffee table in front of the television were three different gaming systems. He recognized two of them. The third looked like a mash-up of the other two.

  Rahim walked over to the TV. A gaming chair was off to the left of it, and there was a beanbag on the other side.

  “This isn’t right,” he said.

  “Hey, bighead.”

  Rahim spun around.

  Yasmine was standing in the middle of the living room eating a bag of chips. Her wild Afro seemed to be floating around her face.

  “Why are you eating potato chips?” Rahim asked.

  “Uh, because I’m hungry. Duh.”

  “What about your voice? You always saying too much salt is bad for your vocal cords,” Rahim said.

  “Boy, have you hit your head? I can’t sing. Daddy and Mama been looking for you. I’m gonna be late for work. If I was you, I’d come up with a good excuse before they get home.” She picked up a smock and grabbed her coat before heading out the door. Rahim saw the name of a local convenience store on the back of the smock.

  “See ya later, bighead,” she said before walking out the door.

  Rahim couldn’t make his mouth work, so he just waved. When Yasmine shut the door behind her, he snapped out of his trance. He made for his room, taking the stairs two at a time.

  “This is definitely not right,” he said when he opened the door to his room.

  There was a flat-screen television in his room, too. It wasn’t as big as the one in the living room, but it was still pretty big. There was a laptop on his desk and a tablet. In the corner was a keyboard and a digital drum machine. On his wall were posters of several different groups, but Rahim didn’t recognize any of them. His Four the Hard Way poster was missing.

  Rahim slowly backed out of the room.

  “What is even happening right now?” he whispered. He leaned against the wall. His head was swimming. He began to feel nauseous.

  He heard the front door slam.

  His parents. That had to be his parents. He swallowed down his nausea and ran down the stairs.

  “Stop running, homie,” his dad said.

  Rahim stopped so suddenly his foot froze in midair. The person speaking to him sounded like his father, but he didn’t look anything like the father Rahim knew.

  The man in front of Rahim had long black-and-gray dreadlocks. He was wearing a thick Sixers sweatshirt and baggy jeans. On his feet were not his father’s leather loafers but a pair of pretty fly Jordans.

  Standing next to his father was his mother, but she looked totally different too. Her hair was pulled back into a severe bun. She had on a blazer and pair of khakis. Her usual flowing sarongs and robes were nowhere to be seen. But her smile was the same. “Rahim, where have you been? We’ve been looking for you for hours,” she said.

  “Hours?” Rahim asked.

  “Yeah, home skillet. We been trying to track you down for a minute. Your mom been mad worried,” his dad said.

  “You were worried too, Omar. Stop trying to play it off now,” his mom said. She punched his dad playfully in the arm. He pretended to crumple with pain.

  “I . . . ugh . . . ,” his dad play-gasped.

  “We’re just glad you’re home. We were both worried. Come here, boy,” his mother said. Rahim went to her, and she gave him a tight hug. “Now I gotta get to my meeting at the bank before I’m late. Try not to disappear again before I get home, okay?”

  “The bank?” Rahim asked.

  “You all right, home skillet?” His dad pulled him into a tight half hug.

  “I’m just . . . just tired. I went to the library to look up something for a paper,” Rahim said. The words came out in one long jumble.

  “For four hours?” his father said.

  “I’m, uh, really into that paper,” Rahim said.

  His mother laughed.

  “Next time, give one of us a call, please? I know you’re growing up, but we need to know where you are, okay?” she said.

  “Yes, Mom. I’m sorry,” Rahim said.

  “All right. I’m gonna go back to the studio. I’ve been working on this new song. Stanley said if it’s as good as I say it is, he’ll work it into their set,” his dad said.

  “Well, don’t let anyone hear it before I do. Let me listen to it when I get home tonight, okay?” his mom said. She gave his dad a kiss on the cheek and was out the door before Rahim could say another word.

  “Your mama is the best woman I know. Sometimes I think she believes in me more than I believe in myself. Hey, you wanna come down to the studio and listen to this sick new beat I made? It’s fire, I’m telling you.”

  Rahim ran his hands over his face.

  “When do you have time to make beats? You teach four classes a day,” Rahim said.

  His dad laughed. “You sure you okay? Come on, let’s go to the basement. This beat is righteous.”

  “When did we get a studio in the basement?” Rahim said under his breath.

  * * *

  The basement in question was completely reconfigured. There was even a soundproof plexiglass recording booth and a soundboard. Rahim’s dad sat at the board and opened a laptop. “Check this out!” he said, and pressed a button. A beat filled the room, and his father bobbed his head in time with it.