MURDER. TREASON. TIME TRAVEL.
Itâs been ten years since Reuben Greysonâs father disappeared, leaving this discharged Army veteran drifting in a sea of unemployment and alcohol.
That is until an attempt on his life drives Reuben into the grips of the secretive Archive Initiative Center (AIC), where he learns of his fatherâs murder and the elusive fugitive plotting to take the reins of their most guarded asset: Chronos.
Now, Reuben must unlock the mysteries behind the former order of time travelers, known as the Stewards, as he hunts down his fatherâs killer through the vast spacetime maze of the Chronos Project. The past cannot be altered and the future is seemingly fixed, though the dreamlike groanings of the machine and the players competing over its power appear to say otherwise.
Caught in a vortex of hidden agendas, prophetic dreams, and tantalizing artifacts, Reuben and his team of travelers unlock clues that lead to the gut-wrenching truth at the heart of the cryptic project.
Equations and gadgetry may bind the pillars of the beastly Chronos, but human dilemmas will test all those who pass through its arches.
Abandon hope all ye who pursue the Keys of Time.
MURDER. TREASON. TIME TRAVEL.
Itâs been ten years since Reuben Greysonâs father disappeared, leaving this discharged Army veteran drifting in a sea of unemployment and alcohol.
That is until an attempt on his life drives Reuben into the grips of the secretive Archive Initiative Center (AIC), where he learns of his fatherâs murder and the elusive fugitive plotting to take the reins of their most guarded asset: Chronos.
Now, Reuben must unlock the mysteries behind the former order of time travelers, known as the Stewards, as he hunts down his fatherâs killer through the vast spacetime maze of the Chronos Project. The past cannot be altered and the future is seemingly fixed, though the dreamlike groanings of the machine and the players competing over its power appear to say otherwise.
Caught in a vortex of hidden agendas, prophetic dreams, and tantalizing artifacts, Reuben and his team of travelers unlock clues that lead to the gut-wrenching truth at the heart of the cryptic project.
Equations and gadgetry may bind the pillars of the beastly Chronos, but human dilemmas will test all those who pass through its arches.
Abandon hope all ye who pursue the Keys of Time.
From beginning to end, I watch it all
Through the perils of venture since the Fall
Yesterday, I explored the night.
ï»żFor tomorrow's protection, I bring my fight.
He recites the creed over and over. Though the words are monotonous, their truth continues to pierce his heart.Â
Ten minutes. My world ends in ten minutes, but I must wait ten years for it.
Itâs a paradox, Nolan knows. Always true but rarely right.Â
He walks them and knows them, the mundane halls housing an extraordinary power. His watch, clinging tight to his wrist, strays from his stride and nicks the cinderblock wall beside him, robbing him of routine. He glances down at the watchâs grimy analog display. Its wear nearly matches his own being, and not for the first time he wonders where the years have gone.Â
Nolan Greyson is a physicist to his core, precise in his work while obscure in all else. Heâs adrift but not aimless. Never aimless. His thoughts are trapped in time while his burdens feel infinite. Decade long memories haunt his every step as the facilityâs cold walls and empty halls welcome him to the familiar path, to order and chaos. But more, they welcome him to yesterday and tomorrow and eternity beyond. Â
A dullness grips his stomach, pulling. His heartbeat quickens with each step closer to the lab, pumping mounds of sweat through the pores of his paling face. He lets out a sigh, but the unease stays with him as he turns the final corner and continues forward. Forward to the end and back to the beginning.Â
Itâs today, Nolan thinks as he strides toward the security checkpoint. Florescent lights dangle in an equidistant series lining the hall, like soldiers in formation. Its constant buzzing lingers, radiating its stale presence throughout the windowless space as though the drab concrete walls whisper their haunted tale.
Itâs foreign to him.Â
The layout and dĂ©cor may be the same, but its essence has become but a ghost of its former self. The purpose that once filled these hallowed halls has gone, left with the people who formerly served themâhis friends.Â
The two security guards take a step toward him, interrupting his stride.
âGood morning,â the weathered-faced guard says, his voice hoarse with age.Â
âYou know the drill,â the other guard growls, his hand extended. Nolan inspects the aged lines of the guardâs trembling appendage before fumbling for his identification card.Â
âOf course.â Nolan forces a half-smile. The guard snatches his ID, inspecting the weight, surface, and flexibility before raising it between him and the invasive light above. He then levels it in front of Nolanâs face, alternating his gaze between the photo and the man. Nolanâs hand strays to his watch once more, his fingers trailing across the familiar dials. The guard notices, but Nolan plays off the nervous gesture with an itch. It wouldnât do to draw attention now.Â
âOne would think that youâd memorize my twenty-three-digit ID number by now.â Nolan wipes off the accumulated sweat from his forehead. He feels the disk shift in his coat pocket as if it were trying to burn a hole into his chest. Itâs the key to everything and, if they find it, itâs all over.Â
The years of preparation.Â
The sacrifices heâs made.Â
Everything.Â
The world rests in his pocket, and yet, at this moment, it couldnât be further from his grasp.Â
âDr. Greyson.â The guard scowls. âYou know we have to be thorough. Especially with whatâs been goinâ on around here. Itâs our ass if another one of you scientists croaks.â He hands the badge back to Nolan.Â
Nolanâs heart slows for a moment, only to drop into his stomach. âYouâre livelier than the electronic badge scanners we previously employed. Though not by much.âÂ
He had forgotten. Or did he?
Are there other items Iâve missed?Â
It doesnât matter now. There is nothing that Nolan or anyone else can do now except let time march forward.
âAge donât stop me from pulling this trigger,â the guard laughs, his hand coming to rest on the gun at his side. âLess easy to fool, too. You know how it is these days.âÂ
âThese days. Days past. And days to come. The methods vary, but time elapses all the same.â Nolanâs false smile has all but eroded. Breaking eye contact, he glares at his watch. The hands rest in the same position since the last glance. He taps the broken watch out of habit, knowing the gentle force will fall short of reviving it.Â
âIt happens to all of us,â he says, just barely a whisper.Â
âWhat?â the other guard asks.
âKeep watch, and maybeâehmâyouâll be spared.â Nolan clips his badge to his lab coat and proceeds past the guards. Before he reaches the entrance, their muffled voices carry to his ears.Â
âThat has to be the weirdest dude Iâve ever met,â one of the guards says. Nolan closes his eyes, exhales, and adjusts his glasses before walking through the set of double doors.Â
The labâs hangar-like space embraces him as he enters. Like much of the facility, the walls are cold and concrete, yet at the roomâs center lies a terrifying warmth, the unknowable soul at the heart of the entire operation. The ceiling towers well above, tailoring itself to house the thirty-foot high masterpiece.Â
A circular platform hovers only a few feet above the ground as a single staircase runs to it from the lab floor. Two angled columns hug the entrance, reaching the top of the machine at a thirty-five-degree angle, like a set of pondering hands uniting at the fingertips. Seven other vertical columns border the platform, supporting a metallic ring that encircles the entire circumference.Â
Nolan edges down the pathway between the entrance and the foot of the platform. As he maneuvers toward it, his head moves up and down, taking in the entirety of the machine. Each step extends his neck further until, finally, Nolan must bend backward to see the top. He shudders as what little ease he has left escapes him.Â
âDr. Greyson,â a voice calls from behind him.Â
Nolan turns just as his assistant settles alongside him. âHello, Nea,â he says before looking back toward the machine.Â
âHey, so I just finished running those tests like you asked me.â She pulls out a tablet and swivels it in his direction. Nolanâs eyes meet the screen for a brief second, but he sees nothing other than the ground beyond.Â
âAre you okay?â she asks, her usually cheerful pitch low with concern.Â
âIâmâŠâ Nolan pauses, clenching his jaws. How can he even begin to answer that?Â
Okay.Â
The word seems so empty to him.Â
Resolved, Nolan thinks.Â
That would be more appropriate. Heâs resolved, and everything is going along as planned.Â
But okay?Â
No, heâs not okay.Â
Nothing is okay.Â
He tears his eyes away from the machine. The naĂŻve innocence in her young brown eyes strikes him. âThank you for running those. Youâve been an excellent asset to us, Nea. I understand the strenuous workload in the absence of our other colleagues.â
âAbsence?â She lowers the tablet and scratches the top of her head. Nolan watches as a single thin blonde hair glides to the ground. âI mean, itâs more than that, right?â
âIt certainly isnât less.â Nolan peels off his glasses and runs a hand up and down his face. He feels every wrinkle and smile line, a story of his life in brail beneath his palm. âHow long have you worked here?â
âWith the Agency, three years. Iâve only been at the Center here for a little less than a year, though.â
âAnd whatâs been your impression?â
âOf what?â
âEverything.â
âUh, I donât know, Dr. Greyson.â She takes a step backward. âI just donât really know. I want to say itâs fine.â
âIâve been here many years and have worked on it even longer than that. Very few places that can happen.â
âItâs special. Iâll say that.â Nea gives an awkward smile before returning to her work.
Nolan stares at the machine for another few seconds before forcing himself into a nearby desk. His stomach clenches as he stares at the blank computer screen. His flesh prickles at the click of the keyboard. As the screen illuminates, Nolan reaches into an inner pocket within his lab coat. He pulls out a small photograph and smiles. Itâs not on a screen like what other aging adults have surrendered to using.
No.Â
This is something tangible and true, ancient but enduring.Â
A real picture. A photograph.Â
His thumb brushes the pictureâs gloss. There, in its center, his graduated son smiles back at him, boastfully donning his cap and gown in a sign and seal of things past. Moisture creeps into his eyes, pooling and nearly overflowing onto his cheeks.Â
The reason, he reminds himself.Â
The reason.Â
Nolan holds back the tears and tucks the photo back into his coat. The weight remains. Its purpose, justified.Â
He slips the glasses back onto his face, rolls his shoulders, and focuses. He removes a thumb drive from the opposite breast pocket and inserts it into the workstation. After a few clicks, he runs the code and watches as his screen turns black. Less than ten seconds later, the surrounding computers follow like a chain of dominoes. Nolan watches as the entire lab is infected with blank screens of nothingness.Â
Nea jumps up from her workstation, her tiny frame just barely visible over her computer. âI think our servers just went down,â she says with a higher pitch than usual. âIâll call HQ to see whatâs going on. I know itâs the weekend, but I donât remember any notice about maintenance.â
âNo need.â Nolan stands, moving toward her. âOur servers are fine. Itâs our entire data warehouse and its backup archives that have been deleted.âÂ
She tilts her head in confusion. âHow can you tell?â
âBecauseâŠâ he says, stopping only a foot from her, âI deleted it.â
âWhat? Why wouldââ she stutters, taking a step back with wide eyes.Â
He grabs her by the upper arms. âNea, listen to me very carefully.âÂ
She looks up, her eyes quivering as they fix on his. His stomach lurches, but he has to continue.Â
His plan is in motion, and time waits for no one.Â
âIn approximately forty-seven seconds, the buildingâs power will go out. Shortly after, Adam Drazen will take out the guards before coming for me.â
Neaâs eyes widen. âBut if you know this, thenââ
Nolan holds up a hand. âMy future is written, Nea. Please, do not make this difficult. I need you to take this.â He holds up the orange octagonal disk. âBut you must be quick. If he crosses that threshold and youâre still here, then youâll be dead.âÂ
âBut why wouldââ
âNea!â he says, his eyes narrowing even as he tries to steady his tone. âTime is running to an end in every way imaginable and without our consent. Find Aperio. Heâs the only one of us left you can trust with this.â He shoves the disk into her hands, his own lingering. âUntil then, disappear. Drazen wonât stop until he finds you. Now go!â The light overhead vanishes, and Nea gasps. Nolan can feel her hand tremble as she tightens her grip on the disk.Â
She says nothing, only nodding, eyes steady with determination before sprinting toward the rear exit.
Nolan stands at the center of the lab in the dark, waiting. Seconds pass before the sound of a single gunshot echoes throughout the open space. His shoulders flinch as the bulletâs shockwaves pummel into the room from beyond its walls. Emergency lighting flickers on just as the double doors swing open. Nolan watches the sinewy frame of his old friend storm into the room where they had met several years before.Â
Somethingâs different.
Dark hair streaked with age outline the hardened features of someone who has witnessed the ugly truth of the world. The crooked nose of a recent break juts over a robust jawline, but it is his eyes that haunt Nolan. There was a light there once, a hope for change, but now Nolan sees onlyâŠ
A complete stranger.
As he steps forward, a deep shadow cloaks an unknown scar on his forehead.Â
Drazen stops, his stale breath heavy against Nolanâs face.Â
âHello, Adam,â Nolan says, refusing to break eye contact.Â
âAdam?â Drazen chuckles. âNo oneâs called me that name in a long time. No one has called me anything. Thanks to you, I have been living in Hell, and all you can say is âhello?ââ Nolan remains silent, even as Drazen starts to pace around him. âSurprise. Iâve seen it countless times on the faces of the others before I killed them. They all knew. They must have known that I was coming for them. But, every time, they just give me that same stupid look like they had no idea. But you? No. You knew before I took out those guards, and even before that. Maybe youâve always known. But here we are.â He pauses, his eyes meeting Nolanâs once more. âWhy didnât you warn them? Why wouldnât you try to save them?â
âWhat makes you think I didnât or that you even did take them out? Even so, things are as they are.âÂ
Drazen swings around behind Nolan. âI see,â he whispers before turning to face the machine. ââThings are as they are. Ha. You and your philosophizing bullshit. So, todayâs the day. I assume itâs already done, huh?â
âWe had no other option, Adam.â
âNo!â Drazen turns, his dark eyes bulging beneath narrow brows. âWe had every option. I know youâve seen the future. Iâve seen it, too. Iâve paid for it because of you. So donât lecture me about making the right choices while also just letting things happen. You may have fooled the others with your garbage, but not me.â
âItâs not garbage.â
âNo? Then what?â
âItâs a paradox,â Nolan says, watching the veins expand on Drazenâs forehead.Â
Drazen whips out his pistol and pulls back the slide, allowing a bullet to enter the chamber. He grabs Nolan by the jaw and presses the barrel against his face. Nolan stares into his hollow eyes as the icy steel digs into his cheek. Terror grips his thundering heart.
âI heard a gunshot before you walked in,â Nolan says as he feels his own quivering voice vibrate against the gun. âYet, just now, you had to chamber a round into that cold barrel. Does that sound consistent? What would you say that is?âÂ
Drazen lowers the weapon, smirks, but says nothing.Â
âA paradox, always true but rarely right.â
Drazen looks away yet again to gaze at the machine. âYouâve always been observant when it comes to the details. Could never get the smallest one past you. Thatâs whatâs so funny. You get obsessed with the smallest things and miss the big picture in front of all of us.â As Drazenâs eyes move from the base and work upward, he smiles. âJust imagine. The events, the world, time itself. No more war, poverty, sickness, famineâŠâ He turns back toward Nolan and pauses. Nolan does not see anger in his dark eyes per se but rather sadness and disgust. âBut all of you self-righteous pricks would rather see humanity destroy itself.â
âChanging events doesnât change people.â Nolanâs voice grows firm. âHas it changed you for the better?â As he says it, Nolan can see Drazenâs gun hand shaking.Â
Drazen lets out a deep sigh and loosens his grip on the pistol. âYou know, I really did like some of them, even thought of them as friends. I considered you a friend too some time ago. I didnât want any of this, but I couldnât just let⊠I couldnât.â He lays his other hand on the machineâs platform. âOnce I knew what had to be done, I did it. Never hesitated. Not once, except now.â
âWhy?â
âYou know why. Things are different now. Iâm different. With the others, it wasnât personal. And when you look at the alternative, it had to happen. I never liked it, but we both understand why I did it, why I killed them. It wasnât personal.â He turns, grabbing Nolan by the collar, and drags him onto the machineâs platform. âBut with you?â Drazen clenches his teeth and grips his pistol tighter as he returns the barrel to Nolanâs head.
Nolan steadies his breathing.Â
Any second now.
He takes a deep breath, the air sweet on his tongue.
How many breaths have I taken for granted? Why is it always the last that makes you consider?
The picture of his son races through his thoughts, tumbling over memories and life itself. As he looks down with the gun to his head, his eyes meet the face of his watch one final time, unticking, unchanged, and lifeless. Before exploding gunpowder can be heard or a recoil felt, Nolan and his watch become one.
Three words that immediately came to mind when finishing A Dream of Stewards by Yohann Martin were, I. Want. More. This book had a little bit of everything, mystery, time travel, romance, and family. One of the aspects I really enjoyed while reading was Martin's ability to make this story feel so real. He gave the characters working at the AIC (Archive Initiative Center) real stories, and families.
The characters weren't superhuman like I was expecting. They were instead, thoughtfully chosen by the AIC based on skills that couldn't be reached like leadership, effort, and the willingness to learn. Fighting, navigating, and using weapons can be taught. The earlier skills listed cannot.
Another thing that stood out to me while reading the novel was the characters' eventual acceptance of not needing to know everything. There were several instances where the Stewards explanations were sparse, or elusive. They never gave the whole story which left the characters with more unanswered questions and the belief that they would eventually know the truth.
Lastly, one of the main lessons I came away with was the effect power can have on a person. Many of the characters throughout the novel were presented with the power to change life-altering events, go back in time to fix mistakes, stop wars, and prevent hardship and ruin. There is an internal and external struggle between these characters as they make their choices. It leaves the reader with the question, what would you do with the same opportunity? Would you change the world? If you did, would that power consume you? Could you stop yourself from abusing the power of knowledge and change?
My only reason for four stars instead of five is the storytelling. With so many side stories intertwining with the main story, I would have liked to see a bit more clarification. Some of the chapters started out describing a scene using "she" or "he." The character's name sometimes didn't appear until a few paragraphs down or on the next page. Additionally, some of the chapters jumped back in time or were memories. I understand that some of those sections were meant to demonstrate the confusion that was also being felt by the character, but I found it to be a little much at times.
Other than that small issue, I did very much enjoy A Dream of Stewards by Yohann Martin and I'd highly recommend giving it a read.