Time has laid his hand
Upon my heart gently, not smiting it,
But as a harper lays his open palm
Upon his harp, to deaden its vibrations.

                                 Henry W. Longfellow
                                 The Golden Legend, iv.

*********************
Overtime

by

+Gradient
*********************

[ Paris - 1974 ]

        "Bon après-midi, mademoiselle."

        The young lady in question remained completely motionless,
however, simply staring into her hot tea.  This was not at all how he
had suspected she would react.

        He had spotted her only moments ago while exiting the café,
one of the oldest in the city.  Exotic women were not particularly
scarce in Paris, but this one, with her dark, green-tinted hair and
deep complexion, intrigued him moreso than usual.  No, it was more
than that:  this one had the carriage present only in an aristocrat.
Magnificent.

        Thus it became necessary for him to take the initiative,
inviting himself into her little world.  Slowly he pulled out the
opposite chair and, with all the suavity that he could muster, he
introduced himself.

        She thought back on how many times she had participated
in this scene over the years.  Same vapid man, different variation.
She had, in fact, become quite hardened to this situation and under
normal circumstances her usual response would have been . . . less
than humane.

        But not today.

        His second surprise of the day came when she slowly and
with almost condescending seduction spoke her first words:

        "You are not Parisian, so you can stop trying to impress me
with that pathetically rough imitation of the real accent."

        His gulp was audible, as was the utter perfection of *her*
accent.

        He had severely underestimated her.  Chauvinism has a way
of working against you at the most inopportune moments.  His
confidence reduced to splinters, he proceeded the best he could, if
only to make some semblance of a graceful exit.

        In trying to extract any bit of information about her to use
to his advantage, he had neglected his immediate surroundings,
which proved responsible for his last and most profound surprise.  It
wasn't his fault, really.  It would be all too easy to become
transfixed with the dark subtlety of her eyes, as generations before
and ahead could attest to.

        His eyes drifted downward, downward, until he saw it.  The
reaction was almost primal, as he jumped backward and froze in
shock.  Men like him were rarely at a loss for words, yet this
moment demanded it.  He slowly backed away and disappeared into
the haze of cigarette smoke that blanketed the café at this time of
day.

        A wry smile escaped her.  Now I can finish my tea.

        It was in fact the tea that he had seen, or more precisely, the
cloud of steam that emanated from it.  It would have, of course,
appeared entirely normal upon cursory examination of a second or
less.  However, watching it any longer than that revealed its
particular peculiarity.

        The steam was not moving, apparently frozen in its place.
And if he had gained the nerve to peer into the cup, he would have
seen the ripples in the liquid suspended in time as well.

        How appropriate.

        *   *   *   *   *

[ Tokyo - 1995 ]

        It had been how long, three years now?  Hard to say, for she
owned neither clock nor calendar.  Things had not gone exactly as she
had planned, but that was not particularly bothering her at the
moment.

        Before the last reawakening, she had planned to take
something of an active role in their development and training.  It
seemed only natural that she would assume that role.  After all, she
was the oldest of them all by far.

        Or at least she was now.  Then, during the Silver
Millennium, she was the youngest, and probably the most innocent.
She always thought that this was the reason she was given her
special mission, one that required a type of purity not normally
found in people.  There was, in fact, one other role among the nine
of them that required a special innocence to fend off the temptation
to abuse the great power and responsibility that they had been given,
and this time *she* was the youngest.

        She had suspected that the advisor cats would appear; that
probably would have been part of the failsafe plan.  Still, she had
envisioned that she could mentor one or two of them.  She seemed drawn
to do so by forces she could not comprehend; it was almost like an
instinct.  In particular, she wanted the firefly for her own, for
reasons that she could never reveal.

        And indeed, her wish was granted -- just not in the obvious
way.

        They were almost fifteen years old when she was about to
intervene.  The problem was that someone beat her to the duo.  She
had learned to live with surprises that would numb superior human
minds before, but that still did not prepare her for the moment
when she first sensed that her future self had returned through the
Portal and had begun operating in this century.

        She shook her head.  No . . . not future self:  *One* of my
future selves.  She could be from next week or a millennium hence.

        This didn't make any sense, she thought.  She never actually
met her doppelgänger from the future, for some things remained
forbidden even for her.  But until now, she thought that travel to the
past and active participation was one of those taboo activities.
Apparently not, but what had changed between now and then?

        Only in the last fifty years had she begun to test her power.
She had enjoyed the luxury of innocently abiding by her vows until
then.  Her future self must have seen an overriding need to break her
solemn oath of office.  She must have.  The alternative was
unthinkable:

        She doesn't trust me, she thought.  The very idea made her
shudder.  She must have had her reasons, however, knowing my
failures over the last century.

        So all she could do was watch at a distance.  Well, not really
watch.  She was still so afraid of her unseen temporal master that she
did not risk even *looking* at the other her.  It was an odd kind of
observation, knowing that this would not be the last time that she
would see this.  Knowing that her future self must have also known
that *she* herself was under observation was also slightly unsettling.

        So be it.  I cannot fail again.  No matter the consequences.
The stakes are too high.  My vows, such as they are, are sacred no
longer.

        Very soon it will be complete, however, and my future self
will return home.  And I will take her place in the present.  At least,
that is what I would do.  I wonder if they will notice the difference.

        One of them will.  She probably already knew.

        Now all I have to do is remember to return to this time
sometime in the future.

        I can do that.  I've remembered everything else.

        To a point.

        I believe it might actually work this time.

        *   *   *   *   *

[ Kure, Japan - 1949 ]

        The white-clad figure slid open the small metal window on
the large door and the bright light flooded into the tiny cell onto the
figure curled in the corner.  It directly bathed her deep eyes -- eyes
which had not seen such light in several days. But she did not waver.
She didn't see it.

        "Now here is an interesting patient," he said almost
sarcastically.  The sound echoed mercilessly down the long, barren
hall.

        "She's been with us for almost four years now.  She just sits
in that corner all day with that empty look in her eyes.  We don't
think she poses a risk to any of the other patients or staff, but we
keep her here just in case."

        "So, what's her story?"  The intern seemed genuinely
interested, which drew a suspicious look from his colleagues.

        "Well, I've only been supervising her case for a year, but her
last supervisor's notes were pretty thorough.  She was apparently
found in the streets after the bombing four years ago.  The catatonic
state you see now developed shortly after she was placed in our
care."

        "No obvious physiological damage or congenital defects.
Blood tests have proven inconclusive.  No signs of the poisoning.  The
only real abnormality, other than the obvious, is a very low pulse
rate.  By all accounts, she seems to be a perfectly healthy young
woman in her early twenties, although since she has not changed
any since her arrival, we surmise that she could be as old as thirty.
Your preliminary analysis, Dr. Idemoto?"

        "Perhaps some trauma related to--"

        "Yes, perhaps," curtly reminding the young intern that he did
not like such an obvious answer.  He then glanced over his shoulder
to make sure his other students were taking notes.

        "She was discovered crying among the ruins, holding a dead
young girl with blonde hair.  There was another frail young girl with
black hair by her side there as well, but she died a few days later.
We don't know how long they had been there."

        "Was that her family?"

        "Not as far as we can tell.  We located the blonde's mother
and she had never seen this woman before.  We don't think she has
any family left."

        "Oh, and you might find this interesting,"  he continued.
"When she was picked up and taken away screaming and
half-fighting, she was shouting in some old dialect that we had killed
the future and that we were all doomed.  She cursed something about
her 'vows,'  and then she started speaking something -- well, the
report said it was unearthly sounding."

        "Uh-huh."

        "She doesn't say much these days, though.  The nurses claim
that she does try to verbalize occasionally, however.  They think it's
some sort of name.  One of the observing college psychology
students said that it was a man from Greek mythology or something.
She just whispers it over and over sometimes, or so I've heard."

        "What's her name?"

        "Oh, we don't know that either," he sighed.  "No identification
or anything with her.  The only thing she had was a small piece of
garnet jewelry, and it disappeared shortly after we put it in storage."

        "Her last supervisor did give her a name, though.  Nothing
official, of course -- just something to keep from referring to her as
a number."

        "Yes?"

        "Yorozuyo Sachi.  Well, let's move on.  Here's another
unus---"

        The sound and light was abruptly cut as the metal plate was
moved back into place.

        Happiness of all eternity, indeed.

        *   *   *   *   *

[ Lucerne, Switzerland - 1931 ]

        They're coming back.  The plan worked.  I can't believe it.
How long have I waited for this?  I've lost count.

        Japan of all places.  I would not have anticipated that.

        As she sat in the luxury of her virtual museum, she ruminated
over the last millennium.  It had not been easy for her.

        She had stood sentry at the Gate for the great majority of that
time, until she realized that, for her purposes, she didn't actually
have to be *there*.  She was now so perfectly attuned to her duty
that she somehow knew when there was an intruder at the Gate, and
thus she was able to deal with them as needed.  Not that this had
ever happened, mind you.

        So that freed her time, so to speak.  She had not been among
the humans for long before she completely blended in as well as
someone who shone from the crowd even in the Silver Millennium
could.  She didn't particularly like pretending to be one of them.
Her ego was not immune from the ancient nobility of her office.
Still, when they returned as children, it would be on earth, and it
would be helpful to have at least one base there.

        Besides, the asceticism of guarding the Gate had slowly
grown tiresome.  And she suspected that her attention span was not
the only thing suffering from her long, voluntary exile:

        Her memories were fading.

        Not anything too significant, however.  She still remembered
the Silver Millennium.  Well, parts of it.  She remembered the faces
and the voices.  There was some inexorable quality that was missing,
however.

        She didn't remember how she got *there*.  The invasion, the
destruction.  She recalled that.  Or maybe she just remembered
feeling it.  She wasn't sure.  And then the silence.

        If you had asked her how long she had been guarding the
Gate, she would have difficulty in telling.  Not because she had lost
track of the years, but rather because those early years, or more
specifically those up to the last century, did not seem to exist in her
memory.  She knew logically they must be there, but they were not.

        Or maybe I'm just making this all up, she mused.  It used to
be clearer, I think.  The only thing after the silence that I do
clearly remember is my vow.

        The thought that she might be slowly losing her mind caused
her to laugh, a sound unknown both here and at the Gate.

        It doesn't matter now, she thought.  In a short time, they will
return and we can rebuild our work and finish the battle.  And as far
as the Gate goes, well, I'm carrying the keys with me.

        *   *   *   *   *

[ Silver Millennium ]

        "You *cannot* let this happen to her!"  The tension in the
large, candlelit room, already at unprecedented levels, was increased
further.

        It was furthermore intensified by the fact that, of the two,
few would have expected the outburst to come from the demure,
green-haired beauty rather than from her taller, blonde companion
across the dinner table.

        "It is . . . the only way," the figure opposite slowly
responded, measuring each word before she let it pass her lips.

        "She's only a child."

        "Are you sure?  Besides, the decision has already been made,
and I think it is the correct one.  The Queen believes we have no
alternative.  Michi---"

        "No.  Nobody deserves this.  Don't you understand what she
must have endured all that time at the Gate?  It's no wonder
she . . . she . . ."

        One thing that the Guardian of the Gate had always refused
to reveal to the duo was exactly how long she had been at her post,
but that did not stop them from asking in jest occasionally.

        But by the time they realized the meaning of her most recent
evasive response, "Too long," it was too late.

        One of the only secrets in the kingdom that was more highly
protected than that of the Guardian taking her own life was the fact
that she was probably going insane at the time, and that no one had
done anything about it.  Living in a fairy tale has a way of making
you forget about those who don't.

        But now she had returned, as was their way.

        "And now the Queen wants to send her back, like nothing
happened,"  she continued.  "All because we have to guard a Gate
that no one ever passes through and take out some sort of insurance
on an uncertain future."

        As her hand retreated from wiping the tears which she hid
from her companion with her long, green hair, she decided to
acknowledge the presence that she had detected in the room
moments earlier:

        "Did I forget anything, Your Highness?"

        The Queen of the Silver Millennium stepped from the
shadows of the balcony along with two smaller figures beside her.
Her look was one of pure sympathy.  It had sadly become all too
common in the preceding years.

        "You are not the only one who has cried, Neptune," she
began.  "This decision has pained me more than almost any other I
have ever made.  I will not lie to you -- I seriously considered
finding some way to destroy the Gate rather than subject her to this
again.  But there are . . . contingencies that I must consider."

        If the words were sinking in, she did not show it.

        "We like to believe that the Silver Millennium is eternal, but
it would be irresponsible for us not to consider the possibility that
it is not.  I, myself, have felt this lately, in addition to reasons
and suspicions that I dare not divulge at the moment.  Therefore, I
tell you with every ounce of my conviction that this is necessary."

        "However, I am not about to make the same mistakes of the
past," she whispered as the Garnet Rod, without an owner for
several years now, materialized in her hand.

        "I am going to leave her with a gift that should have been
her title to begin with.  The ravages of time are capable of leaving
their mark even on creatures such as us.  This will perhaps soothe
her pain somewhat."  Somewhere, the Ginzuishou began to glow
slightly.

        Her tears now stopped, the full weight of the Queen's words
descended upon the elegant warrior.  She wanted to speak, but she
couldn't find the words.

        "She will not feel anything when her memories fade.
Hopefully she will be able to retain the best parts of who she is . . .
who she was.  And if she is like our friend of before, she will surely
not forget the vow that she will retake today."

        And, if her worst fears were realized and the kingdom did
fall and the children of the Moon were mercifully never reawakened,
the child would be alone forever.  Forever.  This was the vow.  The
vow that stained Serenity's soul.

        The Queen closed her eyes and took one final breath of
penance.

        "Come forward, Setsuna," the Queen said as she motioned
toward the smaller of the two figures accompanying her.

        The two senshi rose from the dinner table in respect, joining
hands to prevent each other from breaking down completely.

        The child had already developed the deep eyes that would so
totally define her later.  She looked slightly puzzled, but not
uncomfortable.  As she gestured to each of those present, one could
not help but feel a sense of her true age rather than that which was
apparent.

        As the Queen handed the Garnet Rod to the youth, the first
visible sign of emotion from the monarch slipped out as she made
her proclamation.

        "The future begins as a child."

        The Senshi of Silence, called to bear witness to this sacred
occasion, remained motionless in the shadows, curiously silent.

        *   *   *   *   *

[ Paris - 1974 ]

        Well, the tea wasn't *totally* frozen in time, to be precise,
as the party responsible for this phenomenon liked to be.

        But time had been slowed sufficiently around the tea to make
it appear so to the untrained eye.  This also had the rather convenient
side-effect of keeping it hot.

        Her time among the humans had given her the insight that
bending her vows slightly was not the same as breaking them, and
since she had not been punished, she reasoned that this must have
been within her birthright.

        The steam returned to life as she removed the effect and
retrieved her drink.  It was a sedate celebration for her, but a
celebration nonetheless.

        Today was the day.

        Today was the day that he was reborn into this world.

        Since he was the first one, that meant that it would only be a
short matter of years before they were all reassembled and she could
be with her kind once again.

        It was Japan again.  This actually surprised her less than she
expected it would.  Poetic justice, she thought, that she would now
be able to mend the errors of her past.

        And like the last time, she pondered for the briefest of
moments whether she could go to him directly and assume the place
by his side reserved for someone who had not yet been reborn.  And
as quickly as before, the thought passed into oblivion.

        For now, however, she finished her tea silently with the rare
satisfaction that she had done her job well and that it was now
bearing fruits.

        I suppose it is time to go, she thought as she stroked the rim
of her empty cup.  The cats might already be there, and I don't want
to waste this opportunity.

        The private flight to Tokyo was scheduled to leave in an
hour, so she hurriedly gathered her coat and left the café.

        And then, walking down one of the countless grand avenues,
she did something that she did not remember doing before:

        Meiou Setsuna paused.

        The little voice in the back of her mind asked, "What's the
rush?"

        Half-chuckling, she knew the answer.

        You know, I think, this time, I might just *walk* all the way
there.  Why not?

        Everywhere is walking distance if you have the time.

                        - - - - x - - - -

****************************************************
Author's Notes:

        Please don't take this story to be anything other than what it
is: an attempt to severely annoy a Pluto fanatic/continuity freak/friend
of mine.  She always took umbrage at my insistence that someone in
Pluto's position would inevitably end up in an asylum sooner or
later.  This is my amateur effort to "get in" one more jab at her.

        As such, the story is nominally based on the anime (and not
much at that) rather than the all-too-restraining manga (although I
did need to use a couple of concepts from it).  Oh, and sorry for the
rather striking (and possibly -- dare I say it??? -- controversial)
continuity changes.  I just wanted to see the look on her face.

        That being said, Sailor Moon and associated characters are
the intellectual property of Takeuchi Naoko and/or Toei, DiC,
Bandai, Kodansha and a host of other ethereal corporate entities.

        The final line was first uttered (or should I say muttered?)
by Boston comedian Steven Wright.

        All comments, questions, anecdotes, threats, can be sent to:
        [email protected]

        Thank you for your time.

"Overtime"         +Gradient             July 1998

You remind me of a poem I can't remember, in a song that may
    never have existed, in a place I'm not sure I've ever been to.
                                                -Grandpa Simpson
                                                  The Simpsons