“We could use the rocket for good instead of evil,” Cindy A. spoke over to Jim A. after straightening her hair. She had recently been influenced by a book she’d been reading. A famous trip to the Moon.
Jim A. laughed at this. Todd A. joined him. Yoko, having done the deed and brought them all together as a sealed, signed triangle, had slithered away again into the web of time with no rosy prognostication in sight.
“2 rockets will do it — we all agree?” It was Todd A. this time, manager of the project.
“We can send the 1st and see what happens,” offered Jim A. “Gauge the reaction before moving forward with the second.”
Cindy A. was getting sick to her stomach. What had she set in motion?
But they had trained for this. It was always going to be. Forward in time, and then backwards in time to the original point. Cassandra City. Home. But the hitherto thought of home — Pipersville, at least in its original form as Chip Shot: doomed. Worse than doomed.
“How far to be accurate? Would we, say, have to go all the way north to Regaltown to effect the launch?” Todd A. again. “What say you mathematician of the group?”
Jim A. spoke up. “As close to the Neutral Zone as we dare get.”
“How about Golden City?” Cindy A. reluctantly chipped in. The others readily agreed to the future hole. “They had remembered Chip Shot but not their own, retaliatory fate. Much worse it will be for them in the afterlife.