QSFer Alex Washoe has a new FF time travel romance out (lesbian, trans MTF), In the Queerness of Time book 2: Unbroken Star.
Two women from different times, whose hearts beat with a single passion.
In the 21st century, burned-out ex-cop Britt Halliday sets out on a tour of the west, hoping to reconnect with the stories of her childhood heroes. Outside of a ghost town in northern Wyoming she rushes to the rescue of a woman pursued by armed men, and finds herself whisked back into the real world behind her youthful fantasies.
In 1887, Dr. Agnes Sheedy struggles to find a cure for the malady that ravages the mining town of Pigeon Point. The residents believe they are cursed, but Agnes’ crusade draws the ire of powerful enemies. Escaping an attempted abduction, she flees into the arms of a mysterious woman who appears out of a storm, on a railroad trestle that shouldn’t exist.
One timeless love to protect Pigeon Point — and the world — from a gathering darkness.
“Uh … Bri-ta?” She had been reconnoitering ahead, and just returned to the stand of trees where she left me. Meanwhile, I was exploring her phone.
“You’re going to do that to my name every time you use it aren’t you?”
I had noticed she seemed flustered when I looked up at her through my eyelashes and so I tried to make judicious use of that knowledge. “Do you sincerely wish for me to stop?”
She sighed. “What did you want?”
“This device of yours is quite remarkable. Am I to understand that it stores not just photographs but also music and messages and even information? Entire books?”
“Yes. It can store virtually any form of information and when it’s connected to the Internet—”
“The inter … net?”
“Wow, that will be difficult to explain. Basically, it’s a network that connects almost all the computers in the—”
“Computers. You mean computing machines, such as the ones proposed by Mr. Babbage and Countess Lovelace?”
“I’m not exactly sure who those people are, but yes computing machines. The phone itself is a computer. It uses math — digital math, zeros and ones, don’t asked me to explain that — to store and transmit information. Everything is on the Internet. Books, newspapers, comic strips, libraries—”
“The whole of human knowledge, of information, at your fingertips with this device?”
“In theory, yes. But there’s also a lot of bullshit out there to. Sorting it out can sometimes be really hard.”
“Such is always the case. Are you under the illusion that the world’s libraries have ever contained only accurate information?”
“Trust me, it’s a little different when it’s all easily available to anyone. What are you looking at anyway?”
“I confess, to start with I was shamelessly perusing your photographs.”
Every image I found bewildered me further. I have been to New York and even London, but the city depicted in her photos were incomprehensible to me. There must be some trick of perspective involved, because the buildings seemed impossibly large and close packed. The roads were filled with what look like carriages without any apparent means of propulsion.
“The pretty blond woman who is always wearing an apron, that is your sister, Holly?”
“She seems most delightful.”
“If you think about the most delicious pastry you ever ate, come to life,” she laughed, “that’s Holly.”
“You obviously love her a great deal.”
“Holly has always been the most important person in my life. Well, her and Magda. And I’m a little worried about how she’s doing since Magda disappeared.”
I looked up from the phone. “I sense that is a difficult topic.”
“Especially since I don’t really know what happened to her. It’s a long story and I’d rather—”
“You need not.” Her obvious distress disinclined me toward advancing the argument I had been prepared to make. But I seized the bit between my teeth and proceeded. “I have also been studying these maps. They are of this region.”
“I downloaded them when I first got here because I figured I’d be out of cell range, and I wanted to have them.”
The technical language was obscure, but I felt my observations were valid. “So, Westbrook Township is here, and obviously the Big Horn Mountains. Pigeon Point would be here, but I assume it is too minuscule to appear on the map.”
“On those maps. If we were online, we could zoom in a lot closer for more detail.”
“So, this is our River. And these are—?”
“Roads. For vehicles like my bike, automobiles, trucks. At this resolution it’s only the most important highways and major secondary roads. The smaller ones don’t show.”
“But Britt, we are here.” I carefully indicated a point on the map which I had learned shifted and changed if I touched it. “The map shows a road here. Where is it?”
She crouched down beside me and looked at the map. “Sometimes it’s hard to be sure exactly where you are.”
“Our position is fairly easy to ascertain. This is the river, although its course is not exactly what I know it to be. And this is the railroad trestle, which we know is not there now.”
Britt frowned. I saw distress in her eyes, and it pierced me. Still the necessity of assessing our situation accurately outweighed compassion.
“What are you saying?”
“If these are 21st century maps, and we accept the premise that someone has moved in time, it appears to be you, Brit-ta, not me.”
Alex Washoe (they/them) is a nonbinary writer, game designer, and full-time pet parent living in Seattle, WA. In previous incarnations, they have been a bookseller, a wildlife rehab care assistant, a dog walker at a companion animal shelter, a public speaker, an amateur stand-up comedian, and many other less interesting things. Alex is prone to sudden, seemingly random enthusiasms — the list currently includes birdwatching, baking, running, hair dye … and of course writing. Writing is always job one.