by Joshua Cook
But he had no proof, and besides, even if there was a trade dispute brewing, he couldn’t do a damn thing about it down here. He had his own issues to worry about, namely wondering what the next anomaly would bring him. He hit the galley again, hungry once more. He wondered about that; his appetite since all this had started seemed to be increasing. Maybe a strange side effect of these “phased time” issues? It really didn’t matter in the truth, but right now he had a huge craving for American Style Chinese food, which was a strange craving. He got the right information into the replicator and waited. He’d done this hundreds of times so far, but for some reason this time seemed to take forever. He was far more aware this time around though. He’d been living in a grey fog before, and now while far from an ideal situation, he was more focused, sharper. But finally, the replicator spat out its best approximation of orange chicken and lo Mein, and Jameston attacked it ravenously. A bit pasty in parts, since the “chicken” wasn’t really chicken, but all in all, not bad. As he finished his meal, he felt it. A quiver, then a shaking. “Great” he said out loud, with all the sarcasm he could muster. The shaking intensified. Jameston noticed though that the shaking didn’t seem to disturb anything else around him, just him. Maybe he was the one shaking? Just like that, the shaking ended. What was the old saying he thought to himself, from 60 to 0 in 1.2 seconds? Something like that. He looked around the galley... Everything looked the same at first glance. He scanned the room again, had that cup always been that color? He couldn’t be sure, but if that was the only difference this time, a minor color change of the cup would be an easy one to deal with. Then, he heard it.
Chapter 6 - Footsteps
Footsteps. Very real, solid footsteps. Footsteps getting closer to the door. Two thoughts occurred to Jameston at once. One, that the anti-vibration things were down again, and two he had to hide. And hide now. The feeling of competency, confidence that for the last day or so had filled him, was now gone in the time it took for a single step to fall. He ran and dove for a hiding place. His heart, gripped by pure panic, thudded in his chest. He didn’t know exactly why he was so damn scared. It wasn’t as if the idea of another person itself was scary; in other circumstances he’d have welcomed it. But this mysterious sound, coming after everything he now knew? This was too much, too far. He huddled his lanky frame into as small a place as possible. Breathing shallowly so as not to even give the barest hint of the sound of his breath, he waited and listened. The steps were still coming, measured, clear, and purposeful. Almost marching down the hall, he imagined. The steps paused, and then retuned, faster this time. A fast walk-run now, hurried, then faster still, a full run now and closer, much closer Then a stop, a tap on the galley door.
Jameston barely breathed, the feeling of panic had turned to terror now. Pure total terror. The tap on the door came again... instant now... A knocking. Knocking? Who knocks on an automatic door? All they had to do was push the button, and that was it. They were in. But instead... They knocked. Jameston was trying very hard now to control himself His arms were straining to hold himself down. Wrapped around his legs, the muscles in his arms strained to keep his legs still. He knew that if he let up, he’d start to shake again. A shake that would lead to him making noise. In mid-knock, silence. The world began to vibrate again, faster than before. This time a sense of wrongness that he hadn’t really noticed before left him. Jameston sat there, unable to really breathe or think at this point. On many levels he knew this was foolish: whatever danger there had been was over now, and a grown man sat hiding behind an obviously see-through table, wrapping himself into the smallest possible ball he could. But he couldn’t move. The fact was that while part of him knew the danger, if there even been any, had passed now, the rest of him was still drenched in abject terror. Time passed, and still he sat there. His legs were falling asleep and his arm muscles screamed at him, but he sat still. Straining to hear any more footsteps, any more sign that he wasn’t alone. Finally, after what he could only guess was a few hours, he uncurled. Muscles locked in position for a long period of time now ached, pain in his back particularly. He could even stand up all the way, between his back muscle spasms, and his legs very slowly waking up from the reduction in blood flow. He was able to stand, and he felt ashamed. What was with the fear? The blind panic, the total lack of real thought, what had happened? When he heard those footsteps, all he could do and think about was getting away.
It had been a new level of fear, of that he was sure. His rational mind was taking over now, and began to analyze what had happened. He hadn’t been able to move or think during that most recent “phasing” of time. He realized two things: one, he had been standing still and thinking for nearly 30 minutes, and two, he was nearly gulping air, and he felt like he had run a marathon. He was sweating, hot, from exertion. The cool air of the galley made his skin break out in goosebumps as he rapidly cooled off. He needed to shower and think. He had been very confident in his plan, he was sure he had a handle on things. And then right when his confidence was up, this happens? That shook him. While this was supposed to be a random uncontrollable event, it seemed like every time he got his head on straight, and had a plan of action, something would happen to purposefully throw him off his plan. He finally reached his quarters and took a quick shower, rinsing the sweat and fear off himself. Throwing on a clean coverall, he sat down on the bed. He laid down trying to relax. The way things were going it was hard to get to that point.
He let himself start to relax, and think about something else. He laid on the bed, thinking about the first girl he kissed. Her name had been Jenni, a cute blond girl he had grown up with. He’d had a massive crush on her for years, and when he had finally admitted his feelings for her, he’d not really expected anything from it. They had been friends for years at that point, but she did lean forward and kiss him, right smack on the lips he remembered with a smile. He’d been stunned. Girls at that point in life hadn’t spent a lot of time paying attention to him. He could still remember the smell of her skin as she leaned in close. He hadn’t thought about that in years, and it was good to get his mind off everything else that was going on. He’d lost track of her about 10 years ago, she’d gotten married, and had some kids, and then moved off somewhere. It was a good memory, and it helped him relax a bit, and he could feel his muscles, so stiff and sore before, start to finally let go. He knew he was going to be sore as hell for a while, at least assuming there wasn’t another event like earlier. It still bothered him how the fear had gripped him so tightly. He hadn’t expected to hear another person for months still, but he knew now that with these “time phases” he’d have to change his mind on that one. Still would take some time to get used to it.
He just wished he had a better handle on what triggered the phasing, was it a triggered thing? Totally random? Too many questions, not enough answers. It happens if I’m asleep or awake. It seems to affect the system, room colors, everything. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, staring at the threadbare and worn carpet. He hated that carpet. All that carpet that was industrial, thin, just there to say, “Hey, we have carpet,” but in reality it served no purpose. He wasn’t even sure why they had even put carpet in the sphere to begin with. Just leave it a normal metal floor, why bother with carpet anyway? I’m sure it was the result of some study that said that the people working under these conditions needed some psychological boost. But really, crap carpet doesn’t do it. He was pondering this, when the alarm sounded. Two blasts rapid-fire style. Sounds like a down part, he thought to himself. Good to have a more normal item to fix. He made his way to the control room. Everything had already switched over to backups, but the panel told him he was right. The west optical relay was on the fritz again. He didn’t know why, but west relay always was doing this. But it must be a known issue, as there seemed to be a near inexhaustible supply of that particular part in the storerooms. He went through all the normal checklists to see if he needed to get anything else. It wasn’t that the storerooms we
re superfar, but it bothered him to not get everything he needed in one go. As a child he’d always made a game out of getting as many grocery bags out of the car at once as he could carry. He just didn’t like multiple trips, on anything. But with only the relay needed, he stood and surveyed the room. He had been running an idea around in his mind about trying to memorize the layout of each room when he left it. That way, if it was just a minor time phase, maybe he’d still pick up on it. He memorized the layout of the console, where the pens were lying just so. The placement of the other chair, where he hardly ever sat. As many details as he could see and get in one place. He wasn’t sure he could totally do it, but if he at least paid attention, maybe he could spot the differences, if any.
He walked down to the storeroom, silent footsteps once more, in relative silence and calm. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and on most levels that seemed good. But on another he was still wound pretty tight. He realized that he hadn’t been in the storage rooms really since before all this happened. What had changed in those areas, he found himself wondering? Normally, the parts needed at this time would be located in Storage B. But who knows if they are still there? Worrying about it doesn’t solve anything, he told himself. Let’s just go and do the job. The walk was once again fairly uneventful, which was good. The fewer shocks to the system the better, and the less his work-around fix would have to be tested to hide these time phases from the DTA. Why exactly the DTA wants to track these things was another question he found himself pondering. A quasi- multi-governmental agency based on traffic control... He stopped and smiled. “Oh, that’s obvious,” he said out loud. Gee, I wonder why an agency devoted to getting goods around the world as fast as possible would be interested in time modification. Jameston actually laughed out loud for the first time in a long time. Trust the DTA to always look for a way to do it faster. He’d be damned if he’d help them though; these time phase things were damn scary, and he wanted no part in helping them. “Storage Room B” read the sign in front of him. He steeled himself. In all probability everything in that room was fine. He wasn’t in the middle of a phase, and he just had to get a part, and get out. 3-4 minutes tops was all it should take to get what he needed. He couldn’t shake the feeling, though, that something weird was going to be in the room; he chalked it up to general paranoia. A small grin crossed his face, a bit of healthy and normal paranoia would be perfect right about now. He opened the door, took a breath and walked into the room. Boxes stacked neatly, organized, signs everywhere. All in all, totally normal looking. Locating the part was simple, and once he had it in hand he headed back up to the control room. All was as normal as it could be, and he was happy with it. Once at the control room Jameston got to work. He was almost done replacing the optical relay when he noticed it.
The pens, laid out in a straight line when he left, were now done in X’s. X’s sitting on top of a piece of paper that had not been there when he left. Jameston paused, not wanting to stand up. Dread started to rise up, but he slowly got himself to stand up. Without really wanting to, he walked over to the pens, paused and laughed out loud, long, and with real humor. There, on the paper, was a tic-tac-toe board. With the first move made. Center X, and written in clear stable hand, the one word. “Game?” He pondered if he should follow through on the suggestion. He glanced around, and his eyes fell on the clock once more, a slow realization hit him. He needed to take his medicine for stress, and get some real sleep. Looking down at the paper, Jameston smiled and thought, what the hell, the only person here is me, and if I’m time phasing, and leaving a message to myself, and want to play tic-tac-toe, with a different …version of myself, why the hell not. He made his move, and finished the relay installation. Life moved on, and for the most part fell into a rhythm, minor changes here and there. Things would be the wrong color one day, back to normal the next. The tic-tac-toe game never had any other moves, but the odds of a time phase lining up so he could play a game with a different version of himself were fairly astronomical. He tried to calculate it out once, but after 2 hours all he had managed to do was give himself a massive headache and become severely annoyed.
Chapter 7 - Memories
It had been 3 weeks by Jameston reckoning when he smelled it. Perfume, floral, but not strong, with a hint of some soap. Feminine, but not overpowering. The smell tugged at him like a string, and a memory was just out of reach because of it. This was also new; all the other events had been proceeded by first the shaking, then an audio/visual event. He’d never had a time phase that dealt with a smell before. He couldn’t detect the source of the smell, but it wafted through the air turning his head around. He felt like... He felt like a kid, a boy who is around his first crush. His palms were getting sweaty, his stomach flipped. He was a grown man and yet this smell had him reacting like some 13 year old around the prettiest girl in school! Realization hit him like a brick that smell... That was the smell of the Jenni! That smell transported him back to that moment, light coming through the trees, some kids playing in the background noise... The smell of a grill off in the distance, and the smell of her skin as she leaned in to kiss him. His lips tingled at the memory, and he knew he was in some way, there again. He closed his eyes, and opened them to the sight of her. He glanced around, and he WAS there. The park, the people nearby, the feeling of the air warm and sticky on his skin in the southern heat of summer. Before the weather went crazy on a regular basis. The sunlight going through the trees even lit up her hair in barely remembered ways. A voice in the back of his mind screamed at him that this was crazy. Impossible and crazy all at once. He ignored it, he was home, a kid again, about to get his first kiss from the best-looking girl in town. Her lips came closer… The systems alert tone cut through everything, and with a dizzying wrench, he was standing once again in the control room, with ORANGE lights flashing and the alert tone going off. The transition was, at the least, dizzying. Jameston ran over to the console, not totally sure what was going on, but having a very hard time focusing. The display panel read:
CODE: ORANGE POSSIBLE LAVA FLUCUATION WITHIN 600 YARDS. IMPLEMENT EXTRA HEAT MANAGEMENT SYSTEMS NOW
“Oh joy,” he muttered to himself. One of the special joys of being a sphere jockey was that this far down, he sometimes got these “fluctuations” of lava. Except calling it a fluctuation was like calling a F5 tornado a slight breeze. It amounted to an underground eruption of magma. Now the spheres can usually cope, unless of course it’s a direct hit, so to speak. But if you implement the additional heat shielding measures, which takes a lot of power, you should be good to go. The power drain means you’re pretty much going to be limited to the control room for at least the next 10-12 hours, as all other systems go into either a fully depowered mode or a full sleep mode. There wasn’t much he could do at this point, other than run the protocol, and sit. So he sat, in the cracked but comfortable chair, and waited. He sat watching the temperatures fluctuate outside, then steadily rise. But as designed the extra protection held and things, while a bit stuffy and warmer than normal, went pretty much textbook. It wasn’t over complicated, just very boring. Finally, four hours later, the heat started to drop off, and within one hour the system alerted him to the danger passing, and that the orange protocols were in fact, over.
Getting up to go get some food and stretch, he paused and glanced at the traffic meters. Then turned and stared. Empty. The tunnels... All the tunnels that his sphere monitored were empty. Totally, completely, empty. “What tha...” was the only thing that came to mind. This can’t happen, 100% can’t happen. It’s impossible. But yet, there it is... Empty. Totally empty. Jameston quickly ran some sensor checks, hoping with all his might that this was simply a case of bad data. What was the old saying? “Garbage in, garbage out?” But everything checked out... Every system was running fine. No errors, no warnings. All the calibrations were correct as well, not a problem in sight. But yet, there was a problem. The tunnel, the whole reason for being here, was empty. And based on the readings he was getting,
it was totally empty. If the magtrams were stopped that would be one thing. Bad, but understandable. But this? No traffic, no trams, no nothing. He checked again... vacuum was stable, magnetics were fine, but nothing. It was as if the trams stopped coming in. And it was all the tunnels he monitored, not just one. The Southern Africa to China tunnel was as empty as the Australia to Middle Eastern tunnel. Every single one was the same. All readings checked out, all looked fine, but all were empty of traffic. Running some additional checks showed that the last tram had passed 2 hours ago, a single tram from Southern Africa to China, laden with various ores and mined goods. It had been in the middle of the lava fluctuation, and all his attention had been on the heat situation at the time. But now? This was bad. He paused... Had there been a time phase? There had been none of the traditional shaking that accompanied the phases, though the single olfactory event hadn’t had shaking either. He dove back into the system, this time looking for the T9 anomaly detection that he desperately wanted to find. If this was a phase, it would revert, and he could pretend this had pretty much never happened, right? However, even a fine toothed-comb-through failed to find what he wanted. This wasn’t a time phase, this wasn’t a hallucination. This was real.
He sat back and rubbed his face, trying to calm his stomach while he thought this through. If this was real, what could have caused it? A war? Some other massive natural disaster? Alien invasion? Volcanic eruptions? He knew he was grasping at straws. He didn’t know where to turn, what you do when the whole reason for being in this sphere just vanishes with no warning. He only had one option, and he knew it. He had to take the emergency tunnel and abandon the sphere. He knew this meant the odds were that he wouldn’t get paid. DTA took a very dim view of a jockey “abandoning his post”, regardless of the reasons. But with no traffic, that meant no pickup resupply in two months. He could wait it out, the thought did occur to him. He could just sit and wait for those two months, and see if they came for him. But he doubted strongly that would be the case.