SEVEN
I eat lunch alone in an empty student lounge, mostly so I won’t see any of Mia’s friends, but also because I want to call my mom. As a librarian, she’s really well read. If something like this time-skip has ever happened before, Mom would know. She doesn’t work Fridays, so she should be home. My dad answers her phone.
“Leeza-bear,” he says.
I’m glad no one is hearing this. I’m nineteen—a little old for pet names. He must have seen my name on Mom’s screen. He works from home and is probably on his lunch hour right now.
I realize Dad might be able to help me with this puzzle too.
“Hey, Dad. I wanted to talk to Mom, but can I ask you a question about software and computers first?”
“Yeah, of course. I’m on speaker and your mom’s here too. My consulting fee is out of your budget, but since we pay your expenses, I’ll just invoice myself. What’s up?” My dad is a computer-systems consultant. He’s devastated that I didn’t want to follow in his footsteps in IT like my brother, who’s a computer programmer out west.
I think about how to ask the question. I haven’t told them yet that I moved out of Mia’s room. I know they would ask hundreds of questions, then probably call Mia’s parents. It isn’t something I want to deal with right now.
“What do you know about time travel?” I ask.
“Um,” Dad says. “Not a lot? Why?”
I bite my lip. Obviously, I can’t tell them the truth. “I was thinking, can technology be used to talk to someone in the past?”
“Are you talking about science fiction, or reality?” Mom asks. They’re both into science fiction, but Mom’s a bit more hard-core.
“Reality. I’m actually wondering if it’s possible for a computer program to go back in time. Like, could you use software to talk to someone in the past?”
“Of course not,” Dad says. “That’s completely in the realm of science fiction. But AI has gotten to the point where it could simulate it. If there is a good enough record of the era the program is emulating.”
“Yes, like a wayback machine or something,” Mom adds. “AI can fake conversations very well. If enough raw data is accessible, you could use a computer to talk to someone from the past. Why are you asking?”
“A friend and I are trying to figure something out. So, a computer couldn’t really go back in time, but modern AI could simulate it believably.”
“Yeah, exactly,” Dad says.
Could my conversation with Jay be an AI simulation?
“Who’s the friend?” Mom asks. “Someone from your classes?”
I know my parents won’t let it go unless I tell them who. They are sometimes typical Indian overinvolved parents. “He’s not in my program, but he lives in my building. His name is ... his name is Robin.” Dumb. My mind is stuck on bird names. But if I say Jay, she’ll think about the missing student. She mentioned him to me many times while telling me to be careful walking around campus after dark. “We were talking about time-travel movies, and it got me thinking about technology and time travel.”
“I’m so glad you’re meeting nice boys,” Mom says. “He likes time-travel movies!”
Mom is forever trying to butt into my love life. Romance is her second favorite book genre after sci-fi.
“It’s not like that, Mom. We’re friends. And I’m too busy with school.”
“Don’t forget to have fun, too, Aleeza,” she says. “The nicest boy has been coming into the library all winter. He asked me for mystery recommendations. He would be so perfect for you! It’s too bad you’re not coming home anytime soon. Maybe I can ask if he’ll be here—”
“Dad, tell her not to be a stereotypical Indian matchmaking mother.” On second thought, maybe I shouldn’t ask my mother too many questions. The longer I have her on the phone, the more she will meddle. I love my parents, but I went away for university because my mother tends to be a little too ... involved in my life. I’d rather not let her know I’m struggling with anything right now, or Mom will get in the car and drive here immediately.
My father laughs. “She’s right that university is supposed to be fun, though. In fact, I’ll send you a list of my favorite time-travel movies!”
“Yes!” my mother says. “I’ll send you book recs too!”
I groan. “Okay, fine. Anyway, I have class soon. Love you both.”
“Love you, Aleeza!” They disconnect the call.
I can’t dwell on the Jay mystery forever—I have an assignment to finish. Luckily the library gods are kind to me, and after class I find some great pieces on the missing 1919 playboy. He apparently pissed off a lot of people ... which, fair. A millionaire playboy would have a lot of enemies. After reading accounts from people who wanted him dead, I can’t help but think of Jay. It’s reminding me of that article from the school paper the day I moved into our room. The one that said a lot of girls were mad that he was cheating on them.
When a person has that many enemies, how can anyone narrow them down? After taking a few pages of notes on the missing 1919 playboy, I give in to my curiosity again and look up Jay’s disappearance. There are no recent articles since the one from the school paper a few days ago. I wonder if the case is losing steam and everyone is moving on. Maybe no one is even looking for him anymore.
I skim the school paper article again. It doesn’t mention Birdwatchers, but two different people have mentioned them to me now, Gracie Song and Amber. Was there really an organized club of girls who stalked Jay? That seems a little extra.
Of course, a Google search of the word Birdwatchers results in thousands of hits—none of which have anything to do with Jay Hoque. I try every search combination: Birdwatcher + Toronto City University , Birdwatcher + Jay Hoque , Birdwatcher + TCU , even Birdwatcher + Jay Hawk + Toronto . That last search gives me a lot, but none of it is useful unless I want to find jays and hawks on campus. Is Jay short for something? ResConnect has his name as Jay, but students can register anything as their preferred name, not just their legal one. I try Jason Hoque and find nothing.
I have an advantage that no one else trying to find him has—even more than his box of things. I have access to the victim himself. Maybe. The connection might not be there anymore. In fact, with the whole butterfly effect theory, it’s possible that talking to him yesterday could have been enough to change the timeline so that the ResConnect chat doesn’t happen anymore.
Thinking about it makes my head hurt. My brain is not cut out for this temporal-physics crap.
But maybe Jay has already given me a clue about what happened to him? He didn’t mention anything about his so-called haters when we talked. In fact, he didn’t say anything that implied he knew people were out to get him. He was easygoing and cheerful, once he stopped thinking I was pranking him.
I open the screenshots from our chats the last two nights. There’s nothing there about a girlfriend (or several girlfriends) or about any conflicts he was having. I read the part about him leaving me that note in the closet—the one I couldn’t find. Is the note somewhere else in the room? Did the cleaners throw it away after he disappeared? Or did the police take it as a clue? I doubt that, because if the police had a note with my name on it, someone would have asked me about it. I’m pretty sure I’m the only Aleeza at TCU. But maybe the police aren’t investigating his disappearance at all.
Jay is here. Aleeza will be here. 100458008.
What does that number mean? It has to be significant to Jay, right? I google the number with Jay Hoque , Jay Hawk , and Birdwatchers and find nothing. It doesn’t look like a student number. Maybe a social insurance number? A little bit of research tells me that social insurance numbers starting with a 1 are issued in the Atlantic provinces. Is Jay from Newfoundland or Nova Scotia? But why would he give me his SIN anyway? It could be a date. Or at least the first four numbers could be: 1004 is the tenth of April. Less than a month away.
I sigh. There are two things I know for sure. One, I have to tell Jay about his disappearance if he shows up on ResConnect again. I need to warn him to avoid these Birdwatcher girls. And two, I need to step away from this mystery. I have to focus on school, and on making new friends who won’t neglect me for their boyfriend, or their boyfriend’s sister. Friends who aren’t missing people only available to talk to when I’m in my room.
After my last class of the day, I grab dinner to-go again and go straight to East House. Hopefully Jay is there so I can come clean to him. If not ... then I don’t even know what I’ll do.
When I get to the room, I check ResConnect, and his name isn’t listed as a resident of 225. Maybe he’s at dinner. After turning notifications for the app back on, I open my computer and start writing the script for my media project podcast while eating my poke bowl.
I keep checking ResConnect over the next few hours, but he’s still not there. I look at Tentacle Ted, who is sitting alone on Jay’s bed.
“Did I imagine the whole thing?” I ask the octopus.
Ted’s wide purple eyes stare at me. This is ridiculous. Jay is right—I should stop talking to a stuffed animal.
My phone buzzes. It’s ResConnect. The message appears on the screen.
Jay: Hey Roomie. We’re still at about 85 percent continuity.
I quickly pick up my phone.
Aleeza: What are you talking about?
Jay: The sports scores. We can test a few more times before we start betting. We’re about to make a KILLING. Should I leave your cut in my mattress? Even if only 85 percent of the money is there, we’ll both be golden. 50/50 profits.
Aleeza: Wait. I don’t think we should bet.
Jay: Don’t wimp out on me now, Roomie, this time-glitch is happening to us for a reason. Maybe getting rich is the reason.
Jay’s right. This is happening for a reason. But betting on sports isn’t it.
Aleeza: Jay, there’s something I need to tell you.
Jay: Lottery numbers! Do they publish old ones somewhere?
Aleeza: No wait. You’re right, this is happening for a reason, but I don’t think the reason is to get rich. I think it’s happening so I can prevent something bad from happening to you.
Jay: What? What are you talking about?
Telling Jay this seems huge. He has no reason to believe me. Why would he? He knows nothing about me. He’ll probably think I’m just another Birdwatcher trolling him. I take a breath and type quickly before I lose my nerve.
Aleeza: You’re missing.
Jay: What do you mean, missing?
Aleeza: The Jay Hoque in my timeline has been a missing person for four months.
There is no response, so I keep typing. If he never speaks to me again after this, then so be it. I did my part.
Aleeza: There were search parties all over campus at first. And in the city. It was on the news a lot, but not as much anymore. On Saturday November 6, you were seen in East House in the evening, and you haven’t been seen or heard from since.
He still doesn’t respond, so I keep going.
Aleeza: There are no leads. No one has any idea what happened to you. That’s why I’m here now. You were officially unenrolled from the university this week.
Finally, Jay responds.
Jay: Shit. That’s why you told me to stay away from the dorm that day.
Aleeza: Yeah, I don’t know how to prove it to you. I can’t send you pictures or articles from the future on ResConnect. I can cut and paste the text from an article, but there’s no way to prove that I didn’t make it all up. But trust me, it’s true.
There is no answer for a while.
Aleeza: Are you still there? I can cut and paste some articles.
Jay: I’m still here. Am I dead?
Aleeza: I don’t know. I’m so sorry. No one knows where you are. You probably don’t believe me.
Jay: Why wouldn’t I believe you? You’re my roommate. How
He doesn’t finish the sentence.
Aleeza: You still there?
Jay: Yeah, how’s my mom doing?
Aleeza: I don’t know. I don’t know any of your friends to ask.
Jay: Let me read the articles.
Into the chat, I cut and paste the text from several articles published right after he disappeared. It’s going to take him a bit of time to read them. I feel terrible for Jay. When I first read them months ago, it all seemed so juicy—an actual student at my own school the subject of a huge mystery. But now, Jay is a real person who calls me “Roomie,” and who insisted we’d split the profits from a sports-betting scheme. This is a hell of a thing for him to learn while alone in his room.
Our room. I am here with him, even if we can’t see each other.
Aleeza: You okay, Jay?
Jay: This is all so wild. Like reading about something that happened to someone else, but it’s me.
Aleeza: Do you know what could have happened? Or what will happen?
Jay: Someone must have done something to me. I wouldn’t have run away. Not from my family.
Aleeza: I heard there’s a group of girls who are stalking you.
Jay: Seriously?
Aleeza: Maybe. An ex of yours, Emma, might be one of them.
Jay: Emma Coffey?
Aleeza: Yes, she spoke to the school newspaper saying you were cheating on her.
Jay: I wasn’t seriously dating her. We hooked up a few times.
Aleeza: Why did it end?
Jay: She was getting too serious, and I’m not really a commitment kind of guy.
I exhale. It’s true—he’s a fuckboy. But no matter his commitment habits, he deserves to know what’s going to happen to him. He deserves to live .
Aleeza: Could someone you dated have wanted to hurt you?
He doesn’t answer for a while.
Jay: There was this Tumblr last year that said some shit about me. It was a long time ago, though.
Aleeza: Who even reads Tumblr anymore?
Jay: You’d be surprised.
Aleeza: What did it say about you?
Jay: Bunch of lies. Like I cheated on exams, bought assignments, and lied to get into the school. None of it’s true. I wouldn’t even think of cheating on my schoolwork. My aunt would come at me with a sandal if I did, and that shit hurts. My mom works at a law office, she got a law clerk to write a stern letter and had it taken down.
Aleeza: Who was behind it?
Jay: No clue at all. It was all over by March last year. Haven’t heard a peep about Birdwatcher since then.
Aleeza: Wait. That’s what Birdwatcher is?
Jay: That was the name of the Tumblr.
Aleeza: A couple of people have mentioned Birdwatcher to me, but they implied it’s a club of girls that you wronged. No one mentioned a Tumblr.
Jay: Weird. There wasn’t anything about girls or relationships in the Tumblr. Just accusing me of being shady at school.
This is very strange. Gracie and Amber implied Birdwatcher is a current thing, not a thing from a year ago.
Aleeza: Maybe someone who hooked up with you resurrected it. And they’re also behind your disappearance. What was the account name?
He tells me, and I search for it on Tumblr, but it’s not there. I search for any mention of his name on the whole Tumblr site but find nothing.
Jay: Do you really think someone I hooked up with kidnapped me? A bit of online slander maybe, but this?
Aleeza: Can you think of someone else who might be out to get you?
He could have shady dealings that he’s not telling me about. He jumped to betting on sports so quickly—maybe he wronged a bookie or something? Or hell, maybe he did bet on the sports scores I gave him, and the bookie was pissed that he won so much and went after him.
Jay: The black Corolla.
Aleeza: What?
Jay: Lately, like for the past month, I’ve been seeing a black Toyota Corolla a lot. I thought I was being paranoid, but I think it’s following me.
Aleeza: Did you report it to anyone?
Jay: No, like I said, I thought it was in my head. It’s a pretty common car. I mean, my mom drives a Corolla.
Aleeza: So does mine. Silver. Anyway, someone going after you isn’t the only theory.
Jay: What else do they think?
Aleeza: Suicide.
Jay: No, I’m not suicidal.
But the disappearance is weeks away for him. Could someone become suicidal in a couple of weeks?
Aleeza: Things change.
Jay: I’ve never been suicidal in my life. Or depressed. I know what it looks like. My mom has depression. I suppose anything is possible, but I can’t imagine I’d be willing to do that to my family. It would destroy my mom.
Aleeza: Is it just you and your mom?
Jay: Yeah, she raised me alone. It wasn’t that bad ... she has reoccurring depression, but she gets treatment. And my aunt and uncle, and Nani and Nana are close by. My grandparents.
Wait ... that’s what I call my grandparents.
Aleeza: Are you Indian?
Jay: My mom’s from Bangladesh. I’m biracial South Asian.
Wow. I didn’t know that. Now that I think about it, his racially ambiguous looks could totally be half–South Asian. I don’t know why this changes anything for me. Growing up in an almost completely white town, I’m not used to having South Asian friends. Even here. Most of the friends I met with Mia are white, too, despite the school having a lot of South Asian students. But this is another connection Jay and I have.
Aleeza: I’m Indian. My family is Gujarati, but my grandparents are from Tanzania and Uganda.
Jay: Yeah, I figured you were Indian because of your name. You didn’t recognize Hoque as a Bangladeshi name?
Aleeza: No.
Jay: Is there a way you can find out how my mom is doing? Fuck, I hope her depression isn’t back.
Aleeza: I’ll see what I can find out. I assume we still don’t tell anyone all this, right?
Jay: Yeah, I think that’s safest. I don’t want to worry people more. And at least now that I know what will happen, I can avoid it. I’ll go stay at Mom’s that day so I’ll be safe.
I think about that. Yes, in theory if he’s not here to go missing out of the room, then he won’t go missing at all. But what about Birdwatcher ? What about Emma saying someone was bound to get him eventually? What about the black Corolla?
Aleeza: Okay, but without knowing what happened to you and why, how can we prevent it? Like if it’s an accident or a random thing, then not being here that day might save you, but if this is targeted, then stopping the person from doing whatever on that day only means they’ll try another day.
Jay: With all those infinite universes ... it’s possible that what happens to me in your timeline won’t happen to me in mine.
Aleeza: True. But I don’t know. I feel like we can’t not take it seriously.
Jay: I agree. This is my life.
Aleeza: I feel like this is the reason why we can talk to each other now. We’re supposed to figure out what happened or will happen to you. I want to be an investigative journalist. I’m good at mysteries. And I have something that no one else trying to solve this case has.
Jay: Me.
Aleeza: Exactly. Access to the victim. And because you’re in the past, solving it in my timeline could keep you safe in yours.
Jay: Okay, but no one knows we know each other. If you go fishing around, people will wonder why. People might not talk to you. Or they’ll question why you care so much.
Aleeza: What if I did it for my media project?
Jay: The one that you were supposed to do with your old roommate?
Aleeza: Yeah, I can do a true crime podcast about you instead.
Jay: That’s perfect. We can piss off both whoever the fuck did this to me and your former friend.
Aleeza: And save your life.
Jay: Yeah, that too. My only requirement is that I must approve anything you say in the podcast.
That’s fair, so I agree. I send a quick email to my professor to let her know what I’m planning for my project, and then Jay and I decide to meet here in the room the following night at eight again. Before that, we’ll each make lists of suspects and everything we can find out about his disappearance. We both also take screenshots of our entire conversation, so we’ll have a written record of it after we leave the room in the morning.
It’s pretty late by the time I go to bed. But for the first time since I moved into room 225, I feel good about being here. I feel like I have purpose. Like everything will be okay again.
I have a new friend. And I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure he’s safe.