Cool dawn found the park in the possession of those people too busy to use it at any other time. Two men in their sixties and one in his forties were making their way around the track in pursuit of their health, none paying much attention to the woman of indeterminate age whose shorts were torn in the worst possible place. She had torn these on leaving the house; like everyone else in the Park at this hour, she felt she didn’t have much time.
Three tennis players were doggedly indulging in a game of one-and-a-half, since their usual partner for doubles had just been transferred to evening shift. A couple who had been sharing a fast food breakfast on one of the park’s four benches rose and moved hand-in-hand along the cracked concrete path. She bumped a shoulder against his left ear, smiling to show she’d done this on purpose. He smiled back, reaching on tiptoe to kiss her.
Coming down from the kiss, he frowned, and looked behind him. “Sir?” he inquired of the nearest bystander, who was standing a few feet beyond the bench.
“Mm?” The man turned from his apparent consideration of the life of August N. Griese, which had been summarized in metal and riveted to a boulder, and raised an eyebrow at the young lover.
“Sorry,” said the shorter man, turning a darker shade of pink. “But did you just tell me I should remember you?”
The taller man took off his glasses, the better to regard the speaker. The other man tightened his grip on the woman’s hand and started walking again. “Sorry, sir. Must be hearing things. Morning.”
“I heard it too, Petey. It must’ve come from over there.” The lovers moved on. The tall man watched them go, the tiniest of creases between his eyes.
Turning away from the couple, he saw two men setting up a tripod. “You’re the surveyors?” he inquired, stepping across to them. “The last ones set up right there, by that mark.” He pointed.
“Huh? Didn’t see that.” The surveyor nodded. “Thanks. The last guys were about three feet off, though. Hey, Phil! Wanna measure a yard off this mark?”
His partner shrugged. The tall man echoed the shrug, and moved off, which drew the men’s eyes to him just long enough for the little blue X to pick itself up and mince a few inches along the concrete. Because such things cannot happen, the men might not have noticed it in any case.
Certainly they failed to notice their chains stretching as they went about their business. Chains did not stretch. And grey-haired men in suits did not suddenly shimmer and vanish, so they didn’t see that, either.
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