Robert almost stayed with this view. It was so near his own grad-school years. It was so… comforting. It also occurred to him that these history fans might be allies of the Librareome Project. With Huertas's database in place they could proceed even faster with their reconstructed nostalgia.

He brought up the control window. There was something called "continuous paratime traversal." Or maybe he should pick on a particular writer. There was Jerzy Hacek. No, he'd seen enough of "A Little Knowledge" for today.

How about Terry Pratchett? Okay. The subdivisions were adobe now. His car was an artfully contorted carpet, swooping down a grassy slope that a moment ago had been the grade north of Mountain Meadow Road. In the valley ahead, there were colorful tents with signs painted in a cursive script that made the roman alphabet look vaguely like Arabic calligraphy. There was a scrap of ocean visible in the long, westward-tending valley. And sailing ships?

Robert Gu had read one Pratchett novel. His recollection was that the action mainly took place in a city that resembled medieval London. This was different. He tried to see into the tent city…

Miri — > Lena, Xiu: I have him again! See?

Xiu — > Miri, Lena: Wow. You're driving right next to him?

Miri –> Lena, Xiu: No, this is cobbled together from the hills, and various car cams.

Xiu — > Miri, Lena: He just seems to be looking around.

Miri — > Lena, Xiu: I have a lock on Sharif's persona. We've got Robert all to ourselves.

Lena — > Miri, Xiu: This is ridiculous.

Miri –> Lena, Xiu: Okay, so now I'm Sharif, sitting right beside Robert… oh darn!

Someone gave a polite cough. Robert twisted around.

It was Sharif, sitting on the far end of the passenger seat. "Didn't mean to surprise you, Professor." The vision smiled ingratiatingly. "I tried to reappear earlier, but there were technical difficulties."

"That's fine," said Robert, wondering vaguely if Tommie was still interfering.

Sharif waved at the landscape around them. "So what do you think?"

It was the land of San Diego with a little more water. And a different people, a different civilization. "I thought I was dialing into one of the Terry Pratchett stories."

Sharif gave a shrug. "You got the main Pratchett belief circle all right. At least for San Diego."

"Yes, but — " Robert waved at the grasslands. "Where's Ankh-Morpork? Where are the slums and the dives and the city guard?"

Sharif smiled. "Mainly in London and Beijing, Professor. It's best to fit one's fantasy to follow something like the underlying geography. Pratchett writes of a whole world. This here, is what fits San Diego." Sharif stared for a moment. "Yes, this is Abu Dajeeb. You know, the sultanate he put just south of Sumarbad in The Fiery Crow ."

"Oh." The Fiery Crow ? "Written after you lost, ah — "

After I lost my marbles, yeah . "It's, it's immense. I can imagine someone writing about such a place, but no one man or even a movie company could put together all the — " Robert shrank back from the window as a woman on a winged iguana flew by. (He slipped into the real view, saw a Highway Patrol cruiser speeding past.)

Sharif chuckled. "It's not the work of one man. There's probably a million fans who've contributed to this. Like a lot of the best realities, it was also a commercial effort, the most successful external cinema of 2019. In the years since, it has just gotten better and better, an act of love on the part of the fans."

"Hmm." Robert had always resented the millions that went into the film industry, and the writers who got rich from it. "I'll bet Pratchett made a pretty penny out of this stuff."

Sharif gave a smirk. "More than Hacek. Not as much as Rowling. But the microroyalties add up. Pratchett owns a rather large part of Scotland."

Robert shifted away from the Pratchett imagery. There were others: Tolkien views, and things he couldn't recognize even from their labels. What was SCA? Oh. In the SCA vision, the suburbs were transformed into villages behind walls, and there were castles atop the higher hills. The county parklands looked fierce and forested.

Sharif seemed to be following his imagery. He jerked a thumb at the Los Pumas Valley park just sliding by on the right. "You should see the Ren-Faires. They grab the whole park, sometimes run pretend wars between the barons of the hilltops. It's excellent, my man, truly excellent."

Ah . Robert turned and took a close look at Sharif. The match to his earlier appearance was perfect, except for the smartass grin on his face. "And you're not Sharif."

The grin broadened. "I was wondering if you'd ever catch on. You really must learn to be more paranoid about identity, Professor. I know, you've met Zulfi Sharif in person. That is the graduate student you think it is, and just the groveler he seems. But he doesn't have good control. I can show up as Sharif whenever I please."

"That's not what you said a few minutes ago."

Sharif frowned. "That was different. You've got other fans. One of them is not fully incompetent."

Huh ? Robert thought a second, then forced a smile. "Then perhaps you'd better have some password so I don't blurt all your secrets to the wrong Sharif, eh?"

The Mysterious Stranger didn't look amused. "Very well… When I first say 'my man,' that will trigger a certificate exchange. You don't have to do a thing." Now Sharif's face had a faint greenish tinge, and his eyes had a slant that had nothing to do with epicanthic eyefolds. He smiled. "You'll see your djinni and know it's really me. So what did you think of Tommie Parker's plan?"

"Ah…"

Sharif — Stranger-Sharif — –leaned toward him, but there was no feel of motion in the faux leather seat. "I am everywhere, and I appear however I wish, to produce the results that I wish. Despite all Tommie's cleverness, I was there." He stared into Robert's eyes. "Heh. At a loss for words, aren't you, Professor? And that's your whole problem, isn't it? I want to help you with that, but first you'll have to help me."

Robert forced a cool smile. A winning reply was nowhere to be found. The best he could do was "You're promising me a miracle, without showing me a particle of evidence. And if it's JITT you're offering, I'm not buying. That's not what creativity is about."

Sharif sat back. His laugh was open and pleasant. "Very true. JITT is a dread miracle. But happy miracles are possible nowadays. And I can make them."

His car had left the freeway. It drove the winding way along Reche Road. They were only a few minutes from West Fallbrook and Bob's place. The Mysterious Stranger seemed to watch the scenery for a few moments. Then: "I really wanted to get a head start on things today, but if you insist on hard evidence…" He gestured and something flashed in the air between them. Normally that indicated that data had been passed. "Take a look at those references. And here's proof that I was largely behind the breakthroughs described."

"I'll take a look and get back to you."

"Please don't take too long, Professor. What your merry crew is planning is dead on arrival without your prompt help. And I need that if I am to help you."

His car turned onto Honor Court and slowed to a stop just beyond Bob's house. It wasn't even 4:30, but the ocean haze had moved in and things were getting dark. Little clusters of children were playing here and there along the street. God only knew what they were seeing. Robert stepped into the chill air and — there was Miri pedaling a bicycle up the street toward him. They stared at each other awkwardly. At least, Robert felt awkward. Normally they didn't see each other except with Bob or Alice. In the old days, I never would have felt an instant's discomfort for blasting this child . But somehow the concerted anger of Bob and Alice — and Miri's own stiff-necked courtesy — made him very uncomfortable. I can't stay here, owing children who should owe me .