Page 67 of Time Stops With You

“Really?” I rub my beanie, hope blossoming in my chest.

That variable doesnotbelong to a super computer.

“I tweaked it a bit of course, but I didn’t know I was opening a back door to your simulation. This is what I did when I,” he glances back and forth before whispering, “accidentally hacked into your cloud.”

“This is what you did?” I point to the screen.

“Yeah,” Josiah continues in a normal voice, “but I can’t get past this point. I studied everything your assistant sent me. I even played with the code you gave me access to. Connecting the planes to control without losing signal is going to be really tough.”

I plant my hand on the desk and lean forward so I’m close to the screen. The code unrolls before me, painting a beautiful picture.

It’s all coming together in my mind.

I’ve got the answer I needed.

“Josiah,” I whisper, turning my head to face him.

“Huh?”

“You’re a genius.”

“Technically, I’m asavant. If you call me a genius, that means I’m good at everything and I’m not.” He sticks out his tongue. “English sucks.”

Laughter bubbles in my chest. “I need to get going.”

“Are you leaving already?” The eager teacher appears out of nowhere, his hands clasped in front of his chest and his eyes shining with awe. “I was hoping we could take a selfie.”

“I don’t take pictures,” I tell him flatly.

His expression crumbles.

Josiah, too, looks disappointed in me. Seeing the little boy’s frown, I sigh and take the words back.

“But I’ll take one with you next time.”

The teacher’s smile inflates back to its wide berth. “I’ll take you up on that.”

“Sir,” one of the students calls at the front of the classroom, “can you help me with this? I added the line to the end of the CSS code and it didn’t work.”

The teacher steps away to deal with his student.

I remain in place, typing out my thoughts into my phone before they disappear through the recesses of my mind. Ideas bounce around, one tumbling and forming another like a snowball racing down a mountainside.

I need to call Sara. And maybe Richard Sullivan too. I think Sullivan has contacts with Adam Harrison and I’ll need to draw on that connection for everything I’m thinking.

“Didn’t you say you had to leave?” Josiah asks.

I tear my eyes away from the phone. “Yeah.” I offer Josiah my fist. “Later, smart guy.”

He bumps me with his knuckles, eyes narrowed slightly. “You found a solution, didn’t you?”

“Half a solution. It may not work.”

“It’ll work,” he says confidently.

“Because I’m Ronan Cullen?” I arch a brow, remembering what my new hire said to me in the hallway.

“Nope.” Josiah shakes his head. “BecauseI’mJosiah Davis.”

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