And Now, Time Travel

by Christopher Brimmage

  The remaining bearopus gulped like a cartoon character and then leapt off the roof of the building, apparently deciding to go seek easier prey elsewhere in the city.

  Agent 27142 said, “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me! I thought I’d gotten rid of y-”

  But before he could finish the sentence, lightning flashed from the antennae of the gourd impaled on Drillbot’s right drill. The lightning crashed into Agent 27142’s chest. It soon dissipated, and Agent 27142 lost control of his body. He tumbled onto his side, lying prone on the roof.

  A voice from the gourd called to Agent 27142, “Don’t worry. I did not kill you. I merely jumped your blood to another dimension and returned it. You have been temporarily disabled so that you may face justice for your crimes.”

  Drillbot rolled forward. “[whir] Drillbot disagrees with Henry’s mercy. Drillbot has had enough of – CLACK – enough of this scheming meatbag.”

  Drillbot revved his left drill and sliced Agent 27142 across the torso. Agent 27142’s guts and bowels spilled out of the wound and pooled around him on the rooftop.

  “Never mind,” said the gourd to Agent 27142. “Do worry, I guess.”

  Agent 27142’s eyes jerked wide open in surprise. He glanced down at his wound and his face clouded with desperation. He rolled over to the Timeflow Gun that was dangling on the edge of the roof. He grabbed it. He flicked a toggle with his thumb. He then aimed the gun at his open wound.

  Agent 27142 was obviously trying to use the pistol to reverse time on his wound. But Alex noted something that Agent 27142 did not, and it was that in his haste, Agent 27142 had accidentally flicked the toggle in the wrong direction.

  “You may not want to do that,” called Alex, but not with much conviction.

  Agent 27142 squeezed the trigger. A green blast of conical light crashed into his stomach. His stomach rotted and melted into a pile of goo. The rot began spreading across his body. Agent 27142 grunted.

  Agent 27142 then glanced from the gun’s settings to Alex.

  Agent 27142 screamed, seeming to realize what Alex already knew: he had sped up time on the open wound rather than reversing it.

  Alex watched the life beginning to fade from Agent 27142’s eyes. With fingers that had suddenly become lifeless and clumsy, Agent 27142 quickly twisted seven knobs, which Alex knew meant he was coding in a particular time and location into the gun. As his body melted and sloughed away, he pointed the gun once more at himself, this time point blank against his own head. He fired. His head disappeared.

  Then what remained of his body collapsed over onto its side. It continued decaying and melting and dissolving, and a few seconds later, Agent 27142 disappeared completely into a pile of deteriorated goo. Alex shrugged.

  * * *

  9 Alex attributed much of his success in war to the sense of calm he always managed to retain in battle. Back in his own era, part of this serenity came from drinking deep from a horn of wine before a fight. But here in this odd future where he was living on borrowed time, the serenity came from knowing every second that he continued to breathe was a gift bestowed upon him—a gift that had yielded to him years upon years more battle experience than he ever could have hoped to earn had the B.T.T. not intervened in his life.

  Chapter 33

  NO REST FOR THE GILDED

  It felt as though a grenade had detonated inside Agent 27142’s skull, and every single one of its fragments had found a pain receptor into which it thrust. When pain overwhelmed him like this, he would normally concentrate his breathing in slow, deep patterns. But now that his body was gone, he could no longer breath. On the plus side, with his body gone, the overwhelming pain ended at his head.

  He saw little bursts of color in his vision. He mouthed a curse. He could have used the Timeflow Gun to heal his stomach wound, but the B.T.T. agent had him surrounded. He might have overcome the B.T.T. agent on his own, but not the agent and the robot and a surrounding horde of gigantic, ferocious bear-octopus creatures. It was clear to Agent 27142 that he had been bested, and he decided that if he was about to die, he would go out on his own terms. Not theirs.

  He could feel his brain ceasing functionality. Death was beckoning to him, and it was a call he could not resist. He knew that he had mere moments to live.

  But his desire to see Agent 29333 one more time overwhelmed both the pain and the siren call of Death. He wanted to use his dying moments to finally profess his love for her. And if his lack of functioning lungs prevented him from speaking his love to her, he would at least mouth it to her before he died.

  He concentrated on staying alive, on knocking aside Death’s impatient hand as it nudged him toward eternal darkness. The colorful-and-colorless expanse between realities and the infinite well outside of time loomed around him as the green, conical light yanked him through the ether. His head was being dragged backward through time and across space and would appear in seconds within the bridge of his shift-shuttle at the exact moment when Agent 29333 had used the shuttle to depart from him on Earth 4 to drop the Stasis Bomb on Earth 55,777.

  And appear on Earth 4 he did.

  He would have burst into tears if his decapitated head still had the functionality to cry. For he appeared not within the bridge of the shift-shuttle like he had planned. Instead, the green, conical light dropped him off nearly three-dozen feet above his old shift-shuttle. He must have made a slight miscalculation in his coordinates.

  Agent 27142 attempted to scream a curse, but his jaw was already hardening from its lack of blood flow, and he found that he could not. Instead, he merely fell. The shift-shuttle was taking off, so it rose to meet him.

  He smacked into the view screen outside the bridge of the ship. If he still had a heart, it would have broken. He could see through the clear, reinforced glass. He could see the scowling love of his life. But the smooth, clear surface of the glass lay between them, and he was unable to express his feelings for her, because he simply bounced off the ship’s surface and caromed up into the air, leaving a trail of red blood behind him. He hoped that his blood would grab her attention and cause her to realize what had just happened, but the ship’s automatic cleaners went into effect and wiped away the gore.

  Through the glass, Agent 27142 saw Agent 29333 shout something. He realized what she had screamed when lightning erupted from the front of the ship. He tried to frown, but his lips would not cooperate. They were beginning to creep upward into the permanent smile of rigor mortis.

  Below Agent 27142, the ship surged forward into the lightning. Agent 27142 reached the zenith of his bounce, and gravity went to work, pulling him back toward the earth. However, the lightning lay between him and the ground far below, and as he fell into it, he would have sighed if he were capable of sighing.

  *

  The last thing Agent 27142 saw before he died was the infinite colorfulness and colorlessness of the barrier between realities. He cursed his luck for causing him to appear in the wrong place at the wrong time, and then he allowed the dark grip of Death to envelop him.

  *

  After thousands of years of Agent 27142’s head tumbling aimlessly through the barrier between realities, a pair of twins named Yonder and Rego happened to travel past this exact spot while riding upon their antennaed, mounted ostriches. They also just so happened to be a pair of gods from Earth 162,944,508. They slowed to a halt next to the lifeless head.

  Rego pointed at the head and said, “Brother, tis not often that we encounter a severed head in this holy barrier realm.”

  Yonder turned to Rego and said, “Brother, thou hast the power. Let us learn the secrets of this head.”

  Rego nodded. He contorted his hands into a symbolic pose with his fingers bent and spread to resemble the petals of a lotus flower. And then he blew his nose upon the dead eyes of the head. The snot glowed blue and melted into the head’s pores. Life returned to the head.

  Agent 27142 awoke confused. He remembered dying, remembered the flashes of color behind his eyes as his b
rain finally stopped functioning. He even remembered the eternal darkness of his afterlife. But now his eyes were functioning again, and he was staring into the faces of a pair of men with identical facial structures. One’s skin was pale blue while the other’s skin was deep burgundy. One’s dark hair was braided and fell over his bare chest to end near his feet while the other’s blond hair tumbled in loose curls down to his waist. One’s nose was pierced by a thick rod while the other’s nose was pierced with a dozen small studs.

  “What is happening?” said Agent 27142. The words poured forth from his open mouth even though his mouth could not move.

  The twins seemed to understand, for they replied. And over the next few minutes, the twins had a conversation with the head, learning Agent 27142’s background and what had happened to him to lead him to this point. Agent 27142 found that when the twins asked him questions, he had no choice but to answer them fully and honestly, for his mind did not allow him to do otherwise. He realized that he must be under some sort of truth-telling enchantment, so he sighed.

  Finally, Rego turned to Yonder and said, “Brother, we have learned enough from this foul cretin. I have judged his attitude and nature lacking. Thou hast the power. Add him to thy collection.”

  “Thy judgment is wise, as always, Rego. He shall make a fine goblet, and his hateful spirit will bring a certain delightful magic to it.”

  “Wait, what?” muttered Agent 27142.

  The twins did not answer. Yonder removed a pot and an already-lit torch from the saddlebags on his ostrich. He used the torch to light the bottom of the pot, at which time Rego provided seven bars of gold from his own saddlebag. He placed these inside the pot, and they melted nearly immediately.

  Agent 27142 tried to float away, but there was no possible escape. He tried to use his mouth to assist, but it still was incapable of moving. Besides, even if his mouth was working, the best he would have been able to accomplish would have been to wag his tongue back and forth to try to swim away through the ether.

  He wanted to cry. He had been so close to being able to tell Agent 29333 his true feelings for her! And now he was relegated to being used for whatever foul purpose these twins intended.

  Yonder flayed Agent 27142’s head, cut off the top of his skull, removed his brain, and dipped the empty skull into the molten gold. Agent 27142 once more felt his spirit floating away into his afterlife—the deep expanse of nothingness that he believed followed one’s death.

  But then an invisible tether grabbed his spirit and pulled him back inside his skull.

  Yonder stuffed Agent 27142’s gilded skull into his saddlebag. Then the twins hopped back onto their ostriches and jumped back to their own earth.

  *

  Until the end of time, Agent 27142’s spirit was stuck inside the goblet made from his own gilded skull. Empires rose and fell. The twin gods who abducted him died as a new pantheon rose to power. This one, too, eventually fell. As did countless others that followed. Agent 27142 witnessed them all.

  And unfortunately for him, he was passed from person to person and empire to empire and pantheon to pantheon over the years, being filled with every liquid imaginable. Every time someone poured liquid into him, hatred filled him, and he tried to scream. But this merely caused bubbles to form in the liquid. And thus, he became known as a cup with enchanted properties that made drinks more refreshing.

  If he were a regular person and capable of emotions other than spite, he might not have thought this was as terrible a fate as he perceived it to be. He had achieved a kind of immortality, and he was privy to secrets and intrigues within pantheon after pantheon, which would have been a constant source of entertainment to many. He was front-and-center in a nearly eternal string of parties. He was even worshipped for a while during one pantheon’s reign as the patron deity of effervescence.

  And then sodas were invented on this earth, and he fell out of use. Someone at some point stuck him inside a crate and placed him in storage. And that’s where he stayed. Forever.

  Until he was discovered millennia later and placed in a museum. And then, over time, this museum fell into decay and this earth was ravaged by war, and civilization was wiped from the face of the earth, and a new species eventually arose in its place.

  This new species created their own gods and developed their own civilization. And these people eventually discovered the gilded skull-cup and received delight from its magical, bubbly properties.

  Once more, empires rose and fell. New pantheons and new cultures rose to power. As did countless others that followed. Agent 27142 witnessed them all. And unfortunately for him, he was passed from person to person and empire to empire and pantheon to pantheon over the years, being filled with every liquid imaginable.

  And then this new species, too, invented soda. And stuck him in another crate. And that’s where he stayed. Forever.

  Until the cycle repeated itself.

  Chapter 34

  IT’S NOT OVER YET

  Alex had been teleported back aboard the B.T.S. Unicorn Husker as soon as his fight with Agent 27142 had ended. He now stood at his station on the bridge, staring out the front view screen.

  The space battle had ended while he was attending to the rogue B.I.T. agent. The B.T.S. Unicorn Husker had routed it assailants.

  Hundreds of millions of the tiny creatures known as BeavBoks floated in the harsh blackness of space, smacking periodically against the hull of the Unicorn Husker. Well, to be clearer, their lifeless bodies in the forms of goopy balls of devolved flesh floated in the harsh blackness of space, smacking periodically against the hull of the Unicorn Husker. Amongst the dead also drifted the thousands upon thousands of ruined hulls of their tree-trunk-spacecraft—so many ships of such immense size that if Alex were still King of Macedonia and he were to collect the dead husks for firewood, they would fuel his army’s campfires for decades.

  The bodies of hundreds upon hundreds of Purple Shirts littered the battlefield, too. Some had unfortunately been at the wrong place at the wrong time, having been sucked out into the vacuum of space through breeches in the hull. Others had died in battle, having donned their outer space defense gear and then been blown apart by BeavBok mines. Their disembodied limbs drifted amongst the starry heavens like flotsam in the sea after a hurricane.

  Crews of Purple Shirts had been dispatched to the battlefield to gather the remains of their fallen allies for dispersal back to their proper places within the timestreams of their home realities. Other crews of Purple Shirts darted amongst the aftermath, cutting away the thick rope that still surrounded the B.T.S. Unicorn Husker. Once the bindings were removed, the ship would be free to move to the next phase of this mission.

  Alex removed his eyes from the view screen and observed his compatriots on the bridge, most of whom were going about their duties as though nothing monumental had just occurred. Captain King Solomon broke the mundanity by standing from the Captain’s chair and raising his hands into the air in a gesture of victory. Applause and adulation from the crew—all of whom were present except for Bagoo—resounded through the bridge, and Captain King Solomon accepted it with a bow. The B.T.T. had triumphed over the rogue B.I.T. agent and the creatures known as BeavBoks, and the Captain would receive all the credit, as per usual following a mission.

  Alex smirked and added his halfhearted applause to the fanfare. He hoped that someday soon he might be promoted to captaincy of his own B.T.S. ship and experience this same sense of adulation and adoration. He missed the feeling desperately from his life as King of Macedonia before he had been recruited into the service of the B.T.T. There was nothing in existence that came close to the self-satisfaction inherent in soaking up the reverence of those around you.

  Captain King Solomon motioned for silence, and a hush fell over the crew. He grinned, his yellow teeth poking out between the thick strands of his beard. He said, “Fantastic job today, everyone! We not only showed our grit against overwhelming odds, but we also saved the Space-Time-Multin
uum from ultimate chaos and destruction.”

  The crew cheered. Younger-Arthur was the loudest amongst them, clearly audible over the cheers of the crew and the roaring of Drillbot’s engines. He was attempting to start a chant of “Send! Me! Home!” but was the only one chanting the phrase. Alex noted that Ginny was staring out the front window looking decidedly anxious, not joining in the cheering with the rest of the crew.

  Captain King Solomon once more motioned for silence. The sound of the crew died down. Younger-Arthur continued his chant until 29333 glared at him, at which point he wilted and looked down at the floor. The Captain then said, “Once our ship is free from the BeavBoks’ cursed bonds, we’ll be on our way to Earth 55,777 to finish what we started!”

  The crew cheered. Ginny seemed to understand this would mean pursuit of God-Art and Older-Arthur. She nodded and smiled. Younger-Arthur, however, was as dense as ever. He squealed, “After you send me home, right? I’ve done everything you asked of me! We stopped the Conspiracy of the Gods! We saw the proof. Please, just send me home!”

  The cheers of the crew died away during Art’s squealing. When Arthur was finished, Captain King Solomon replied, “Please, Younger-Arthur, restrain yourself from any more outbursts. I’d love to be rid of you just as much as you’d love to be rid of us. But it’s not that simple. There is a near 100% chance that God-You learned from the rogue B.I.T. agent that the cosmic bear-shaped entities you unleashed from Earth 1,000,000 are frozen in stasis on Earth 55,777. And there is a near 100% chance that God-You is headed there to bide his time until he can exploit the situation—we know this because he has kidnapped your older-self, and historically, his only purpose in kidnapping any version of you is to use you as bait to help him obtain those cosmic bear-shaped entities, because they are cosmically drawn to your unique essence. Though we prevented God-You from completely devastating the Space-Time-Multinuum with his C.O.G., we must also act to stop the cretin from wresting control of those cosmic bear-shaped entities. If we don’t, then his abduction of Older-You will succeed in granting him what he desires, and this will lead to countless deaths across the Space-Time-Multinuum. And unfortunately for us both, your presence is vital in stopping God-You and thus saving these lives—after which this mission will finally be complete.