Just in Time

By Regina Morris

In the year 2192, the technology exists to send digital recorders back in time to witness history. The results are preserved via holographic images for the world to see.

Managing teams to record history can be stressful enough, but when the government tries to take possession of the proprietary technology from the privately held Historical Preservation Agency, dedicated historian, Caleb Hunter, must rely upon a well-connected, and sexy, developer at a government agency for help.

Can the two of them keep time travel in the hands of historians?

This is a short story. It is a prequel to the novel, "Time Historian."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Regina Morris
• Release date: May 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9780996619257

Regina Morris

I am the author of the sensual romances that keep my fans reading past midnight.I write paranormal sexy romances, steamy contemporary romances, and sweet romantic short stories.I live in Austin, Texas with my husband and two children. I enjoy meeting with my monthly critique writing groups and meeting other writers in my area.I graduated high school in Germany and I attended the University of Texas at Austin where I received a degree in Computer Science with a minor in math.Besides writing, I am an amateur portrait and sports photographer. After enjoying a career in the software engineering business, I discovered that writing is in my blood, and had to put pen to paper!Please connect with me through various social media. My personal website has a list of my social media accounts.I would love to connect with the fans of my books, so please contact me.

Book preview

1

Year 2192

The public transporter bus screeched to a halt at Lexington and Congress Avenue with a crowd of morning commuters not so eager to begin their workday.

It wasn’t Caleb’s usual bus since he preferred to use the one that normally picked him up five minutes earlier, but he was running late.

A difference of five minutes, and now he had to stand as he traveled on the more crowded bus.

Ticket scan required.

The bot hovered next to Caleb and waited for him to present his travel voucher. He was on a later bus and his presence was out of place—even some of the passengers had been eyeing him. He held out his wrist and the bot scanned the bar code.

Thank you. A complete schedule of stops on this route can be viewed by scanning the QR code conveniently located at all exists. Have a good day.

The bot then traveled down the row of passengers, safely navigating the ones who had no seats and had to stand. It then stopped in front of a group of teenaged boys and requested to see their tickets.

Before the boys could show their vouchers, the bus stopped at Caleb’s destination. The doors opened and the three boys ran out. The bot complained by saying it had performed facial recognition and would report them to the transit authorities, but Caleb knew that free riders happened all the time. The boys would get away.

Caleb held his coffee and carefully exited the bus with a dozen others, watchful not to spill his drink. Once the people were safely on the platform, they scattered like rats down a maze of turbo lifts and other transfer cabs.

He left the transporter station and entered the bright morning light, feeling lucky to need only one bus to get to work. He owned a private transport, but parking proved too difficult to find, and the airways were usually more congested than he preferred to navigate.

He would have to hurry.

The air was still stale, which made him not want to run or exert himself. Soon the weather grid would clear the smog-filled air, giving the city another pleasant seventy–two–degree day. He usually arrived to work earlier than the city’s morning routine, but normally didn’t have to run in order not to be late for work.

Fresh air or not, he’d have to rush.

Caleb ignored the stale air and dashed past the pedestrians using the autowalks. His fast-paced walking caused the people to stare at him as he hit his stride on the old–fashioned sidewalks that no one used. He rounded the corner of his office building, making sure not to spill his coffee, and glanced at the displayed time projected by his glasses.

The time was 7:42 a.m.—his latest arrival in a while. Another commuter transport would fly overhead in a few minutes. That didn’t give him much time.

Setting his coffee on an abandoned crate in the alley behind his office building, he pulled a wrapped protein pack out of his pocket. His breakfast was half gone, with only several bites left.

Baxter. Here boy. He scanned the alley for the black and white mutt but didn’t see him. Perhaps his furry little buddy had decided not to wait for him.

He whistled as he unwrapped the food and set the offering down. From the corner of his eye, the small dog separated from the shadows and walked over, never taking his eyes off Caleb.

It's me, Baxter. I brought you the rest of my breakfast. The scrawny shepherd mix bent his head down and sniffed the food. His matted fur, broken tail, and his soulful eyes all called to Caleb.

As the dog ate, Caleb tried to walk behind the animal. Baxter grabbed the food and ran a few feet away, stopping behind another crate as Caleb squatted to the ground.

I won’t hurt you, Big Man. You enjoy your meal. The dog scarfed down the rest of the protein pack. Caleb pulled a leash from his pocket. Perhaps you’ll let me take you home with me. I’d make sure you ate a healthy meal every day.

The commuter transport screeched across the sky, scaring Baxter, who ran away with the rest of the meal. The dog ducked into one set of crates and then another, a maze in which to hide.

I’ll see you tomorrow, Caleb called after the dog and put the leash away. He knew he’d have no luck today.

He picked up his coffee and walked to the front of the building, catching his reflection in the glass door. His tailored suit accentuated his cut physique, giving him a professional polish. His short Afro and slight goatee suggested that he was trendy, and the suit indicated that he was powerful. He worked for a nonprofit agency and his reflection wasn’t accurate. His second–hand suit and cheap haircut were all he could afford, but they were enough to appear presentable.

Besides, what counts is what’s inside a person.

He entered the ground floor of the building and walked to the identification desk. He took the last sip of his coffee and tossed the eco–friendly