Chronica by Paul Levinson

at his Wave Hill home in Riverdale, if Porter could secure an appointment. He kissed Mary gallantly on the hand and decided to walk south on Fifth Avenue.

    He thought it was a good plan. Appleton was a patron of the arts, and would be flattered that Porter sought his advice for a moving picture about Hypatia. Who knows, Appleton might even provide a little funding. If Porter could develop a relationship with the publisher, he would be in a better position to find out about this Chronica .

    Appleton was reputed to have a weakness for the fair sex, so bringing Mary Anderson along should further soften the old man. Porter reflected that he himself had a weakness for women, as well. He was married, so he had to behave himself, but they couldn't stop a man from dreaming. He envisioned not leaving Mary at the door of her hotel, but accompanying her up to her room at her invitation. "Just a moment, please, let me change into something more comfortable," he heard her say, in his imagination, as she went behind a screen on the side of her room. She emerged in a diaphanous negligee, easily seen through. He saw her breasts, her nipples, and the luxurious hair between her legs. He wondered if that was what the original Hypatia looked like. She certainly had looked that way in the Charles William Mitchell portrait of her from the 1880s. He wondered who had posed for it. Mary Anderson would not have been too young.

    Now that would be a photo-play! A story of Hypatia, played by Mary Anderson, all in the nude!

    He knew that Edison, the prude, would have no part of it. Indeed, Porter had had to disguise his true nature and lustful leanings from the inventor, as no doubt Dickson had done before him. Porter pretended to be interested only in his work – more interested in machines than people, was the word about him. But he was actually quite the opposite, which was the one of the reasons he had allowed himself to be recruited by Heron.

    A mad man? A time traveler, as he claimed? Perhaps both, because Heron had told him things about the near future, a few years ago, which had become true.

    ***

    Porter met Mary two days later at Grand Central Terminal. Demolition of the main house had just begun – a stately new terminal was to be erected here – and the two could barely hear themselves talk until they were comfortably settled in their New York Central train, which they were taking to see William Henry Appleton in the Bronx.

    "I didn't know you knew J. P. Morgan, Edwin!" Mary gushed and touched his arm.

    Porter felt electricity. "I—"

    "I saw the two of you finishing a conversation when I arrived at Grand Central."

    "Yes, he could be a valuable patron," Porter said.

    "Indeed!" Mary said, and this time touched his shoulder. "I had no idea you had such friends in high places!"

    As much as Porter loved trains, he regretted that he and Mary were on one now, given this wonderful touching. But the journey should be worthwhile – Appleton had agreed to see them.

    He contented himself with a pat of Mary's hand. He looked out the window as their train exited a tunnel. He did love trains – they were exhilarating, the perfect place for adventure, the exciting things in life.

    He looked as the trees sped by outside, newly green with the early Spring. The fabric of motion fascinated him.  He had come to realize that Heron was attempting to do with history and the future what he was seeking to do with images, arranging them to tell his story.  He had always believed his own work was of momentous import, but one of the things that attracted him to Heron was the greater portent of his strange work. If Porter were a religious man, he could believe that Heron was the Devil. Surely nothing could compete with that.

    Porter became aware of Mary's hand, lightly resting on his. Well, perhaps there were some things that could compete.

    ***

    Their train pulled into the Riverdale station in the Bronx. It would be a stiff hike up to Wave Hill.