by Jill Cooper
Over? It’ll never be over.
Future Cassidy
There are no more secrets. No more mysteries. No more surprises.
Everything scanned, cataloged, checked.
The city is a series of motion sensors and cameras that check your face, vitals, and future activities with the TTD, or the Time Travel Database. It is constantly monitored and updated by officers who enforce global law.
I’m one of those agents. My name is Cassidy Winters and I live in a time and place where time travel is a way of life, a way to maintain order. Privacy no longer exists and it keeps the world, our country, safe. No one is ever murdered; no one is ever beaten, robbed, raped, or taken advantage of.
It’s a perfect utopia and for that perfection, some sacrifices have to be made.
Privacy is a thing of the past. If life were a changing room, it would be all windows, nowhere to hide. Everything on display
Along the sidewalks are rectangular billboards advertising the latest flavor in chewing gum and blockbuster movie in lime green and yellow. But when someone walks by, a green light shines down from the center camera at the top. It scans their faces, searches the database, and if it comes up clean, nothing is done.
If a future discretion is found, an alarm sounds and the suspect is confined until an agent can be summoned.
We are all suspects. No one is innocent. We are all waiting time bombs.
Except for me, I have no future that can be read. I’m an anomaly.
But sometimes when a crime so heinous hits our system, the suspect must be apprehended immediately and we cannot wait for him to show up on the grid.
For those suspects, I’m dispatched.
I’m a cleaner.
Walking down Commonwealth Ave I don’t look much different than the average suspect. My red curls are loose and rest upon the shoulders of my leather jacket. I’m in skinny jeans and tall black boots. I’m not that different from the average person except for the USB port in my brain and the electrical baton holstered at my hip.
I grab some candy from a vending machine when my bracelet chirps. I straighten up and flip my wrist over as a face flashes from my TTD Link. A balding, but not unhappy looking man flashes like a hologram.
His name is Reynold Jackson and tomorrow he’s going to stab his wife to death over a piece of fish. Fish.
I slide my finger over his face and he ripples like a puddle. His image fades and his current location is flashed. He’s on the subway T and headed home. Looks like if I hightail it to the Park Street subway stop I should be able to intercept before he even gets to his front door.
Changing direction, I quicken my pace. Those on the street part as I make my way. Their eyes wide with fear, darting from mine quickly. Their moves are jittery, those with small kids, cling to them. I’m like the boogey man. Everyone’s afraid when they see the Rewind logo on an officer’s jacket.
They all fear I’m coming for them.
Everyone feels guilty. No one knows what they’re going to do in the future until they do it, but me? Those like me, we know. We can look it up with a few strokes of our fingers. You can’t deny you’ve done something until you’ve actually done it.
But we know. We always know.
On Park Street, I bypass the retinal scanner by waving my pass on the machine. When it beeps green, I descend the stairs and that familiar smell of subway oil and freshly popped popcorn greets me. It’s a smell I’m told has been around for hundreds of years. I haven’t traveled that far back in time, but I hope one day to see it all.
To go back in time to a period where time travel was just science fiction? How wonderful life must have been then. Carefree and just unexpected? Scary too. You never knew if the man you were sleeping with would murder you in the morning.
And get away with it. Able to move on to the next thing.
I’ll take our utopia, even if it means…
The train approaches and the breaks squeal as it comes to a stop. When the doors slide open, the green light brightens as it scans and catalogs each person as they exit. In the sea of people, I don’t see Reynolds, but my link vibrates.
He’s been spotted.
The TTD comm alerts me that he’s exited the train from a car further down the pike. I walk through the crowd; none of who want to be anywhere near me anyway. Toward the rear of the train cars, Reynolds exits and he’s folding a newspaper under his arm.
In his hand, a boutique of roses.
My hand twitches as it always does before I apprehend a guilty suspect and I pull the black stick from my holster. “Reynold Jackson!” I call in a booming voice and I advance toward him.
Startled, he glances up and retreats backwards. “No,” he shakes his head.
“Do. Not. Move.” I glare at him and aim my baton at him.
He doesn’t. Reynold stops and he gapes down at the pavement. We generate an audience. All around us, people gather around as if we’re a human spectacle on display in a fish bowl. We’re the accident you can’t divert your eyes away from.
But with that comes relief. Relief that they aren’t Reynold Jackson.” “What did I do?” Reynolds asks with a quiet voice.
Before I answer, I hit a few buttons on my link to notify the system I have the suspect. It flashes with updated intel. “Stabbed your wife fourteen times over a piece of stinking fish.”
“Fish?” Reynold blinks and his face pales. “No. I wouldn’t. I love my wife, you have to believe me.”
I do believe him, that’s the hard part. And the part I’ve heard dozens of times before. They all love their wives and husbands when I catch up to them. It’s the moments after that bring the anger, the heartbreak.
It’s those moments in time we can’t allow to happen.
“In accordance with Global law, I Cassidy Winters of the Rewind Protection Agency, hereby find you guilty of first degree murder.”
Reynolds shakes his head. I haven’t seen denial this strong in a while. Most accept his fate, but instead he holds fast to his conviction. “I would never. I don’t care what your system says. I wouldn’t harm my wife. You’re wrong.”
I’ve been trained to resist such innocence. I’ve seen it before of course, but there’s a level look in his eye that makes me pause. But the system is flawless. It can’t be wrong. “You will come with me to await sentencing. Come with me quietly, or I will be forced to use this.” I twirl the black electrical baton in my hand.
“And if I run?” Reynolds asks, almost taunting me.
My eyebrow rises. “You’ll never make it past the first checkpoint. Come with me Mr. Jackson and you’ll make it to the RPA. You’ll get your moment before the judge for sentencing.”
It doesn’t take long for Reynolds to admit defeat. I pull his arms behind his back and handcuff him. “My wife doesn’t even like fish.” he whispers.
But I’ve seen it all. I’ve heard it all before. He might think he’s innocent but there’s no way he can be. The system is never wrong.
Time doesn’t lie.
****
Reynold Jackson is processed through holding. Finger prints, DNA testing, mouth swab. Tomorrow morning he will be sentenced
But for now I return home. It’s time for dinner, maybe a little wine and even a little romance, if I play my cards right. I’m one of the lucky ones with an apartment right in the city. Rewind likes its operatives close just in case something on the grid is found.
I work in Boston, so I live in Boston.
One of the young ones, I was recruited right after college. Now I’m a few years in and I’m a good fit with the Agency, but I know the reason they were drawn to me was because my future can’t be read. That means they want me close, studied, controlled. Someone with no future is dangerous for the country.
The system isn’t perfect, but I trust it. I’m good at my job. It’s a good fit and I’m taking dangerous criminals off the street before anyone gets hurt.
A win-win. But I can’t shake Reynold’s eyes from my mind
as I unload my groceries from my Whole Foods paper bag. I place them on the counter and think of what he said. His conviction. I’ve heard it all before, so why is this time different? Why can’t I shake this man from my mind?
My link rings and it’s from Rewind. A photo of the elderly Xavier Daniels flashes on my wrist. I swipe my finger across it to accept the call. “Mr. Daniels, good evening.”
“Sorry to bother you at home, Cass. I just wanted to make sure everything went all right for you today. You all right?”
“Yes, Sir. Tip top. Processing went fine.” It wasn’t unusual for Xavier to catch up with me at night, but it hadn’t happened in a while. Rewind liked to keep me pressed beneath their thumb more than most.
The fact I can’t be read, have no future, scares them. Can’t say it gives me the jollies either.
“Good.” Xavier sounds more relieved than he normally does. I’m let wondering why, but maybe he was worried about me.
“It’s been a long while since we’ve had tea to catch up. Maybe soon I can drop by?”
“Oh yes, Cass. I know you’ve been busy but that would make this old man very happy. I always promised your grandmother I’d keep an eye on you.”
Granny. I missed that old dingbat, but she died over ten years ago. After my own parent’s death, I was left a complete orphan—no one left, but me. Something that used to make me sad, but now it was just truth. “Yes, Sir. I’d like that.”
Hanging up I’m left wondering about his random check in, but nothing registers as off. He’s done it once or twice before. Still, it lingers in the back of my mind. When you work at the agency, you tend to see everyone guilty, which is my problem, not theirs.
I slip into a black slinky dress and freshen up my face when I hear the front door open. Jeff is home early. I saunter out to the living room and lean against the wall. He’s in the kitchen, looking over the groceries as he loosens his tie. “You approve of selection?”
“Well, we are eating the colors of the rainbow so how can I object?” Jeff comes over to me and I settle into his arms. A long drawn out kiss is just what I need after a long day. “Hungry?”
I shake my head no even though he’d make dinner if I asked. “Rather drink my calories tonight. Red or white? You stoke the fire.”
“Red.” Jeff kisses my hand delicately.
Pulling away from him is hard, but I hurry across the kitchen to the wine cooler and pull out a red. It’s nothing fancy, but it’ll do just fine. Balancing that in one hand, I grab two wine glasses and a block of cheese because I know despite what I say, I need actual food.
Or my morning will be that much rougher. Hangovers and testimony don’t go hand in hand.
In the living room of our penthouse suite the fire is roaring and even though it’s not cold outside, it’s perfect. I settle into Jeff’s arms after the wine is poured and he wraps his arms around me, nuzzling the side of my head with his nose. With a content sigh, I relax and stroke his strong arms.
“I heard about the arrest over the wire. Must have been a rough one to get you so stressed out.”
My finger rubs the edge of the glass and it sings a harmonic twang. “I’ve done it a hundred times. There’s no problem. You just knows how it goes. You’re a lawyer.”
“It’s more paperwork and crossing of I’s and T’s. I don’t get to look in the eye like you do. The system’s perfect, you know that Cass. There’s never any mistakes.”
That much is true.
“So why are you so upset?”
“I can’t forget his eyes.” I pivot, tucking my legs beneath me so I can look at Jeff. “Just as sure as you are that you’ll never hurt me, that’s how he felt. It’s hard to break that fantasy. That none of us are perfect. We’re all capable of murder at any moment under the right conditions…we’re all guilty of something.”
A morbid toast, but I sip my wine and it goes down like vinegar. I place my glass down by the fireplace when Jeff slings his arms around my neck. He draws me in for a slow, tender kiss. It reminds me about what’s good in the world.
What’s right for me?
But a husband killing his wife over fish? What kind of world are we living in anyway?
“I love you, Cass.” Jeffery whispers against my cheek.
“Show me.” I demand in a loving away. My eyes burning with desire for him. “Prove it to me.”
Jeffery picks me up in his arms and swings me around. He takes me through the hall, and my toe flicks the lights down low. In the privacy of our bedroom, where the scanners of Rewind can’t reach, I feel safe.
Intimate. Alone.
And that desire in me to be alone, to really be alone, burns hot.
****
Morning brings hot black coffee and butter toast with jam. Jeff and I circle each other as we get ready, sharing moments over the bathroom sink, playfully bumping in the kitchen as we sip our coffee, and getting in each other’s way in the bedroom as we get dressed.
In my blue skirt and black bra I try to decide which blouse would be the best to wear. What says professional agent serving the people? It’s not every day I have to give testimony. Short as my time on the stand will be it always makes me nervous.
Jeff’s tie is loose around his neck as he comes behind me. His hands caress my hips as he nuzzles my neck beneath the river of red curls.
“You’re not helping.” I whisper and run my hand along his ear. He knows just how to send shivers down a girl’s spine.
“The light blue one if you’re going with the suit jacket. It screams police blue and true.”
I swat at him with a smirk, but I take his advice anyway. I grab my purse and put on a final coat of lip gloss. “See you tonight. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck.” Jeff kisses the bridge of my nose so not to smudge my fresh makeup. “Even though you don’t need it.”
It’s something he says nearly every morning, even though some days I need luck more than others. Still it makes me feel better, light, as I head out the door.
It’s a quick train ride to the Boston courthouse.
The line through security is long, but moves swiftly. I check messages on my phone and surf the web while I wait. People are moving through security and I take a few steps forward. The metal detector is fitted with a time travel scanner.
When it’s my turn, I hand over my badge scanned and put my belongings on the conveyer belt. “Morning.”
The security guard in the Rewind cap and vest studies the monitor before offering me a grin. “Good morning, Ms. Winters. You’re in the clear.”
“That’s good to know.” Inside I’m all jitters. Even though I know I can’t be read, I’m never really sure, am I? I always wonder if today will be the day I set off the alarms. If I’ll be accused of something I can’t really deny because I haven’t done it yet.
It’s the same for everyone. We all walk through life in this semi-guilty haze. And the real horror is when we turn into Reynold Jackson.
The one who is guilty but has yet to commit his crime.
On the way to the court room I bump into Xavier Daniels. He’s run Rewind for over seventy years and while older, is still resilient. Gray hair and droopy skin doesn’t seem to slow him down much. Thanks to the advances in time technology, people don’t age the way they used to.
Unless they’re broke. Poor. The unfortunate.
“Good morning.” I greet him as I travel past.
“Ms. Winters, it was nice talking to you last night. I’m looking forward to your testimony today.”
I nod my appreciation. Is that why he’s here? Does he always come to the courthouse to watch a sentencing?
As we filter into the same courthouse I think the answer might be yes.
****
Reynold Jackson sits motionless through the short proceedings. His wife, Katie, sits on the other side of the court room. A plain, but lovely woman, she fiddles with a tissue in her hand as the monitors at the front of the court room light up.
There’s
a green hue embedding around the image. Images from the future thanks to the time travel tech that rules our world.
Their apartment is small and the kitchen even smaller.
“I thought…it would be a nice change of pace.” Katie sets the frying pan back down on the counter and backs away from Reynolds.
Reynold slams his beer on the counter. I stiffen and suck in my breath. He pulls a blade from the butcher block and moves on approach. “What gives you the God damn right?”
When his arm lifts overhead for a deadening strike, my posture straightens. My hands grip the edges of my skirt. As a trained officer, I want nothing but to protect Katie. I guess in reality I have, but the images taunt me.
Katie screams as the blade slides into her flesh and the video is paused, but Katie’s scream continues. Her fist clenches the tissue to her mouth as family around her try to comfort and console, but let’s faces it, right now that isn’t possible.
Reynold pivots in his seat. “Katie, I would never. I don’t know what this is, but I wouldn’t-.”
“Silence!” The judge slams his gavel down and then motions for me to stand.
Nerves rumble in my stomach. Its show time, but I never feel prepared.
I smooth my skirt and make my way toward the front. I promise to tell the truth and turn to the microphone and look directly at Reynold. Our eyes lock and he doesn’t flinch. It unnerves me that he still, even after watching the video has so much faith in himself to deny his crimes.
I’ve never seen such arrogance in the guilty.
The court appointed officer approaches me. “At what time did you receive your orders to apprehend the suspect?”
“Two forty four. I was leaving Commonwealth Avenue. Retail therapy.” I give a sly smile to relax myself more than anything and polite laughter rolls through the press pool.
“And where did you apprehend the suspect?”
“Coming off the red line train. He had…flowers for his wife.” I don’t know why I add in the detail except it keeps flashing in my mind. In the back of the court, the sobbing from Katie grows.