Page 61 of The Timeless Vigilante

Fine, Gen chirped, focusing on the tasks ahead.

As Gen stepped into the museum, her senses were immediately overwhelmed by the stark contrast between the sleek, modern interior and the ancient artifacts that surrounded her. The exhibit hall was a vast, open space with high ceilings and pristine white walls. It was a far cry from the stone and timber structures of her native 15th century London.

Glass display cases lined the large room, each one housing a treasure from a previous era. Their presence seemed to fill the air with the weight of history. It was almost a trick on Gen’s mind, seeing things that she knew from her old life in her new one.

The time traveler’s eyes were drawn to a beautifully illuminated manuscript in a case. Its pages were richly filled with vibrant colors and intricate illustrations that danced across the parchment. It was such poetic evidence of the skill and devotion of the medieval artisans.

Nearby, a set of gleaming armor stood guard. Its polished metal reflected the soft lighting and evoked memories for Gen of brave knights she once knew who wore such armor into battle. The scent of aged leather and ancient parchment mingled with the cool, conditioned air, created an atmosphere that was at once foreign and familiar to Gen’s medieval sensibilities.

As she moved through the exhibit, her fingers itched to touch the relics of her own time. Desperately, she wanted to feel the rough texture of a tapestry or the smooth surface of a pottery chalice. Each item she passed felt like a tangible link to the world she had left behind. But Gen reminded herself that the medieval era was never her time—this one was. The sooner she stopped time traveling into her past, the sooner she progressed fully into her future.

The gentle hum of the museum’s modern systems, the soft footfalls of other visitors, and the occasional hushed whisper all faded into the background as Gen lost herself in the wonder of these ancient objects. She marveled at the delicate beauty of a stained-glass window, its colors casting a kaleidoscope of light across the floor. The dragonrider, in disguise as a curator, paused before a carved wooden chest. Its intricate designs spoke of the pride and craftsmanship that had gone into its creation.

For a moment, Gen felt a pang of homesickness, a longing for the familiar sights and sounds of the era she once knew. However, as she looked around at the care and reverence with which these artifacts were displayed, she felt a sense of comfort knowing that the legacy of that time lived on.

Thankfully, it had been preserved and celebrated in this strange, new world. The exhibit was a bridge between the past and the present. This was a nice reminder that the human spirit, with its capacity for beauty, innovation and storytelling, endured across the centuries, connecting Gen to her roots and to the countless generations that had come before.

“Miss,” a woman called at Gen’s back, interrupting her reverie and the quiet in the open space.

Turning, Gen found a woman dressed similarly to her, in a navy blazer and slacks, striding in her direction. “Your tickets? You passed right through without showing one.”

“Oh, right,” Gen said, pulling out the identification card that Sophia had forged for her. She’d forgotten how this strange, modern world worked with all these provisions on admissions into each place. It seemed one had to show a reason to be just about anywhere public. “I have an appointment with the Director and Security Director.” She flashed the badge, worried that her nervousness over the lie would betray her.

“Of course,” the woman said, nodding as if expecting this information. She then lifted a microphone on a wire snaking down from her earpiece. “The Director’s appointment is here.”

She smiled at Gen. “They’ll be here in just a moment. Please feel free to look around.”

Gen nodded, turning to look at her possessions or what definitely resembled them. There was a vase in a glass case that Gen could have sworn used to sit in the corner of her bedroom. She leaned in closer, reading the placard next to the vase.

It read:

“12th Century. Venice, Italy. Used for holding holy water in religious ceremonies.”

“Tanya Shaw?” a man asked at Gen’s back. She tensed, knowing that was the name that she was supposed to respond to—her fake identity.

Gen turned to find two men standing behind her. They were both dressed in the same starched kind of suit as hers, although theirs were more masculine.

“I’m Scott Bernard, the Director of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art,” the first man, who was short and smiled easily, said, extending a hand to her. His greeting was warm and his eyes bright with enthusiasm.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand.

“And this is my Director of Security, Hamilton Dixon,” Scott continued, indicating the man beside him. In contrast, this man seemed cold and rigid with a tight stare in his gray eyes. His black hair was pushed back and appeared wet with gel.

“Hello, thank you for meeting with me,” Gen said, also shaking Hamilton Dixon’s hand.

“It’s a bit unorthodox for me to meet with curators,” the Security Director said, sounding annoyed and impatient.

Gen had been coached on this by Liv and Sophia. “Well, I need to be assured that all security measures are in place for the loan that we’re to discuss between your museum and the Smithsonian.”

“Of course, and Hamilton can definitely relieve any of your concerns,” Scott said in an upbeat voice. “We take security very seriously here at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.”

Gen pursed her lips. “I hope you take it more seriously than getting your historical facts right.”

Scott Bernard’s mouth fell open in shock. “Whatever do you mean?”

She pointed to the vase she’d been studying. “This piece, for instance, is from the 14th century based on its craftsmanship and style.”

Scott blinked in confusion. “You must be mistaken.”

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