By Robert Charles Wilson
À travers temps (titre unique : A Bridge of Years) est un roman de science-fiction de l'écrivain canadien Robert Charles Wilson publié au États-Unis en 19911 et en France en 20102.
Ben Collier, chargé de l. a. surveillance d'une maison permettant d'effectuer des voyages dans le temps, est tué par un voyageur temporel en 1962. Dix ans plus tard, Tom wintry weather achète cette maison qui, bien qu'inhabitée, est restée propre et en parfait état. Tom se rend compte que l. a. maison a effectivement une capacité à se nettoyer toute seule ; cette tâche est réalisée par de petits organismes cybernétiques qui en outre cherchent à réparer le corps de Ben Collier qu'ils ont réussi à maintenir dans un semblant de vie. Tom leur apporte son aide mais il va peu à peu comprendre les possibilités de voyages temporels qu'offrent cette maison. N'ayant aucune attache sentimentale, il se laisse alors tenter...
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At the prospect of you lurking in the shadows, waiting to reveal yourself,’ Cestus returned sternly and stepped forward. He managed to maintain the chastening expression for only a moment before he smiled broadly and clapped Antiges on the shoulder. ‘Well met, brother,’ Cestus said, clasping Antiges’s forearm firmly. ‘Well met,’ Antiges replied, returning the greeting. ‘I have come to take you away from here, brother-captain,’ he added. ’ IT WAS A short journey from the sanctum of Communion Temple Omega to the dock where the rest of Cestus’s and Antiges’s battle-brothers awaited them.
Even without being compared to the tall slab of muscle that was an Astartes, they were bent-backed and diminutive. Hektor ignored their obsequiousness as he released the straps affixing the combat shield to his arm and handed it over along with his short-blade to the acolytes. He looked at the ground as his attendants retreated silently into the shadow’s penumbra at the edge of the room. An engraved ‘U’ was carved into the centre of the chamber, chased in silver on a circular field of blue. Hektor stood in the middle of it, in exactly the position that he had started.
Turning a corner, at the lead of the two Astartes, Cestus was hit square in the chest. The impact, though surprising, moved the Astartes not at all. He stared down at what had struck him. Quivering amidst a bundle of tangled robes, a litho-slate clasped reassuringly in his hands, was a scholarly-looking human. ’ Antiges demanded at once. The pale scholar cowered beneath the towering Astartes, shrinking before his obvious power. He was sweating profusely, and used the sleeve of his robe to wipe his head before casting a glance back in the direction he had come from in spite of the monolithic warriors in front of him.