Burg Holstadt, Carinthia, Austria

Summer, 1857

“You can’t,” said Sophie. “It’s absolutely impossible.”

“That’s what they said about the railroad, I expect, and look how that turned out,” Marta retorted. “Besides, Napoléon said ‘l’impossible n’est pas Francais.’”

Sophie frowned, taking a moment to mentally translate this. “But we’re not French. We’re Austrian.”

“I’m a little French. Mama’s great-aunt was the Vicomtesse de Charbonne,” Marta pointed out. “So I think that counts.”

“I don’t care about your auntie,” said Sophie firmly. “And I don’t care about Napoleon. You can’t travel through time, it’s not possible.”

Marta sniffed derisively. “Fine, then. You stay here and read and be boring. I’m going to go build a time machine.”

She stood and stalked away, tight ringlets bouncing as she slammed the library door behind her. Sophie deliberated for a moment before tossing down her book and following.

You could say a lot of things about Sophie Stein, but she drew the line at being called boring.

–

It was fortunate that Marta’s governess was in bed with a bad cold that day, as she most likely would have objected to the goings-on in the house that morning. As it was, Marta and Sophie were essentially unsupervised and were therefore free to collect all the supplies Marta had arbitrarily decided were necessary for building a time machine.

An hour later, the girls stood at the top of one of the estate’s rolling hills, accompanied by a small wooden cart that had attached to it several small clocks, a pillowcase on the back to catch the wind, and several ribbons that seemed to serve no purpose save for aesthetics. Sophie eyed the contraption with suspicion, thoughtfully twisting the end of one of her pigtails.

“I still don’t think this is going to work, Marta.”

“Don’t be a Philistine, Sophie,” Marta ordered (using a word she had just recently learned and was attempting to incorporate into every conversation possible). “It’s very simple science. If we get going fast enough we’ll match up with the speed of time and then go into the future. Maybe by a hundred years even. I hope,” she added, “that they have mechanical horses.” She climbed into the front of the cart and glanced over her shoulder at Sophie. “Are you coming?

Sensing a lost cause, Sophie rolled her eyes and clambered in behind her friend. “Fine. But if we die, Papa’s going to be furious.”

In reply, Marta grinned and leaned forward, just enough that the cart started rolling.

The next few seconds went by in a blur, as the cart zoomed down the hill at lightning-fast speeds. For a moment it seemed as though they were going the speed of time—until the cart hit something towards the bottom of the hill and sent both girls flying into the mud.

Sophie got to her feet first, dripping wet and furious. “I hope you’re happy, Marta. Everything looks exactly the same, so we didn’t time travel, and now everything’s broken and my ankle is twisted and we’re all muddy.”

“Yes, but look!” Marta triumphantly held up one of the clocks that had somehow survived the crash. “We’re five entire minutes in the future. So it did work, technically.”

Sophie rolled her eyes and helped her friend to her feet. Really, there was no use trying to make Marta see sense.