Time Crossers 01: The Final Six Days

by Agster, Joe

  He looks at this watch, and is stunned at the time… 20:31! He is at least 15 minutes late. He chastises himself for the misstep as he races to the bathroom to checks his appearance. Hair, check. Shirt, needs straightening, check. Face, needs refreshing. Everything good.

  He makes his way to the Vyxx club. It’s now 20:38. After being waved in, he discovers his seat is taken. This is not good, he tells himself, the flow of future events has already been disrupted. Another seat is open, but it sits on the opposite side to where Cassie and friends get their table. Her table is out of view, but it will have to do.

  He patiently waits now, but at 20:45 she is nowhere to be seen. She never goes to the spot where she was last time to order a drink. At 20:49, after realizing the moment has passed, he gets up, freely willing to give up his seat.

  As he draws closer and in view of her table, he spots her, her two friends, and sees something discouraging: she is conversing with another man. A taller, light skinned blonde man, well dressed, accompanied by another slightly shorter, darker skinned man. She is laughing with the other man, hanging on his words, fully engaged with them in a conversation. At this moment it’s clear, he messed up the flow of events. He will have to improvise.

  He approaches heedfully, hoping to come across as confident so that the other man will retreat away.

  “Hello, Cassie,” he introduces himself, interrupting the conversation she was having with the other man, creating an awkward situation for everyone involved.

  “Excuse me, do I know you?” she counters, in a slightly agitated, forceful tone, the two strange men looking on toward Friend.

  He pauses, wincing. What have I done? He has totally messed this up, as she seems annoyed at his presence. He tries to salvage a response. “Well, yes… actually… maybe.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve never met you, and I’m also sure that it’s rude to interrupt a conversation,” she scolds him. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we are headed to the dance floor.”

  She stands up and grabs the blonde man’s hand, yanking it like a possessive girlfriend, and impetuously departing in the direction of the dance floor. He watches with shame as they fade behind the packed crowds gracing the bar. Her friends are left behind, giving him a cold stare, as he stands there basking in a mix of disappointment and embarrassment. She was just grabbing his hand in almost that same manner just a day ago. That guy should be him! What has happened? There is little doubt at this moment, he destroyed his chance he had to connect with her. He picks up what dignity he has and makes his way to the exit of the club, feeling dejected.

  He leaves the Metropolitan hotel, wandering aimlessly like a lost puppy in the cold outside air. He relentlessly plays back the steps in his mind of what went wrong. He wasn’t sitting at the original bar seat at the right moment. She in turned ordered her drink at a different spot. Her seeing him the first time prompting her to order a drink from that precise spot next to him. This unfortunate chain of events produced a different, disastrous outcome.

  He eventually stumbles into the hotel next door to the south, the Uvia. A more upscale resort, the decor lends itself to more stately and formal shades of brown, very much unlike the Metropolitan with its hip, dark mixed with fluorescent colors. Throughout the main floor are various restaurants and pubs. He desperately seeks a place more low key where he can collect his thoughts. He spots a unique type of restaurant: a sushi pub. It’s a strange blend between a sushi bar and a pub, made popular not too long ago as he learned from Cassie. He distinctly recalls enjoying the fish cuisine he ate with her, and settles on this choice.

  He wanders into the sushi pub and is instructed to find an open seat. A large, circular bar structure comprises the center of the restaurant. In the middle there is a large, bluish cylindrical aquarium rising up to the ceiling. He finds a seat where he can, next to an older gentleman on the left. It’s now 21:26 according to his watch. He constantly urges himself to be more cognizant of the time from now on.

  He decides to gather his thoughts and assess, and come up with a plan. He tries to remember things from the last iteration, as he jots down notes on the piece of paper in front of him that lists the sushi menu. He has come to realize that his photographic memory is strong, so he lists times, and shorthand name of the event, so he can view them and commit them to memory.

  As his focus intensifies he inadvertently starts to ramble, telling himself in a low, yet audible voice. “Okay, the asteroid announcement is tomorrow, sometime before 20:00. Was it 19:50? I’ll need to prepare for that somehow. Then I’ll need a place to stay. Now, the moment of impact was 4:21? I’ve got to start paying attention…”

  His ramblings catch the eye of the man on the left. The man turns around to observe Friend’s demeanor. The man is a bit portly, with a short graying beard and receding hair. His face is worn, possibly from years of stress or torment. He wears a thin, light brown jacket. He watches with a keen eye, unconscious to Friend, as he scribbles words like ‘asteroid’ and ‘impact’ on the paper. Eventually he turns to Friend.

  “How do you know about the asteroid?” the man asks softly, trying hard to control his angst. Friend looks at the man, and through his eye lenses that he wears, gives Friend a stern look.

  “Doesn’t everyone know? It’s all over your world’s news broadcasts,” Friend states back, unsure about what exactly he means.

  Keeping his voice low and nervously looking around, he replies. “But no one believes it will impact until the news breaks tomorrow. Listen, keep your voice down. Mentioning anything like that can get you in trouble. My name is Max, by the way. Who are you and what else do you know? Are you with the agency?”

  “The name is Friend,” he answers firmly. “I don’t know what an ‘agency’ is. I know that your president will announce tomorrow that the asteroid will indeed impact somewhere near here in Las Vegas. I know that the government body known as NASA or something like that has been lying and deceiving the citizens.”

  Max is a bit taken back by Friend’s use of the words “you” and “your”, as if he isn’t part of this world too. Does he think he is an alien? But having a respect for a person who possesses knowledge of such secret information, he wants to confide in him. “I can tell you about the asteroid, things most people don’t know.”

  Friend nods, signaling his curiosity to know more. Max meanwhile feels a strange sense of relief to get some of this information off his chest.

  “Back thirty or so year ago, asteroid 2009 WZ104, also known as Icedragon, was claimed by a mining company back before the GSC stopped allowing PHA asteroids to be claimed.”

  “PHA? What?” Friend asks.

  “PHA stands for potentially hazardous asteroid. It means basically that its orbit has the potential to cross with Earth’s. But Icedragon’s orbit was stable and was shown to pose no danger to Earth for at least two hundred years. Its Torino threat rating was zero. About 14 months ago, a collision with another asteroid altered its orbit and put it on a collision course with the Earth. We immediately started strategizing how to deflect it from Earth, but unfortunately NASA now coordinates all decisions regarding asteroids to the GSC, especially since Icedragon is Chinese owned.”

  “Wait, so what is this GSC I keep hearing about?” Friend interrupts, recalling conversations with Cassie.

  Max is perplexed at his lack of knowledge in these areas, but humors him anyway. “GSC stands for Global Space Council. It's a consortium of the various space agencies around the world, NASA, JAXA, ESA, even China’s space agency, CNSA.”

  Friend takes a moment to scribble some notes, before Max continues, “After much political wrangling the GSC decided to deploy a HiMKIM, short for High Mass Kinetic Impact Module, equipped with nuclear warheads. The goal was to intercept it in the front, slowing its velocity to divert its trajectory back away from Earth. The impactor module missed the mark, ramming its side instead, and as a result, negligibly altering its orbit. It was a colossal failure. The media actually spun the news as
a mild success, can you believe that?

  “Now, the last ditch effort rests with the ADS… sorry the Asteroid Defense System, a system that is barely operational. It works by emitting high-powered lasers from thousands of stationary space pods. In theory, the energy would be enough to break it apart, then diverting it so that most of the pieces miss the Earth.

  “Here’s the thing, this asteroid is just too massive and dense for its limited capability at this stage. A 50-meter asteroid, sure, but not this. The GSC, mired in incessant politics and scandals, didn’t prioritize the development of the ADS until there was a real danger. You can blame that on the cold war between the United States and China.”

  Max pauses, his voice emulating disgust. “So here we are, on the precipice of the greatest disaster in human history, just sitting here enjoying sushi.”

  Friend soaks in all this knowledge. Wow. This guy knows his stuff. But does it make sense why the government would lie to everyone, even if they felt there was even a low probability that this ADS would work? Why not be transparent about it, let everyone prepare for the worst? For Friend, such things are beyond understanding.

  Max continues to nervously look around. He is just finishing up his meal, and seems to be in a hurry. Friend asks, “So what are people supposed to do to survive?”

  “What can they do? The atmosphere will heat up tremendously at first and the ozone layer will sustain heavy damage. This will cause fires everywhere around the globe. Then it will be an impact winter. There will be darkness for months, possibly years for those who survive, as tons of dust and smoke blot out the sun. And that’s not the worst of it. Hitting land means it could trigger an endless swarm of volcanic eruptions and earthquakes. It may not be like the one that took out the dinosaurs, but this one will surely pack a punch.”

  Friend then wonders, “If you have all this information, what are you doing here?”

  “If I’m going out, I’d rather enjoy my final days here in Vegas. Besides, there’s no way I could live with myself in one of those bunkers.”

  Max appears anxious to leave. He leaves some paper currency with this bill, then hastily stands up. “Nice meeting you, Friend,” he says, before swiftly making his way to the exit.

  Friend wonders what he means about bunkers. Is it possible to survive the asteroid? Is the government more prepared than they are letting on? If he is stuck here for six days, then six more, he will want to eventually find out.

  Friend finishes his meal alone and returns to the Metropolitan. He decides to use his money to get a hotel room; this currency won’t be of much use in a day anyway.

  The registration area is brimming with travelers, all coalesced into several long lines. Friend looks down toward the dark marble flooring, viewing his reflection for a pause, pondering how this whole system works. The hotel registration staff is comprised of mostly automatons, simple humanoid machines designed to provide rudimentary check-in services. Feeling somewhat dumbfounded at the whole process, he opts to speak with a human.

  After a long wait, he is greeted by happy-go-lucky young attendant named Juna, a young woman with bright brown hair, a bit chubby, short and cute. She demands identification, but Friend has none. He improvises by providing a fake name, Max Wyatt. In his voice, she picks up on Friend’s sense of disappointment, and empathizes with him.

  “Rough night?” she inquires.

  “Something like that. The love of my life no longer recognizes me. And I just found out why the world—” Friend pours out, almost slipping out too much, and saves himself from scaring her by revealing the truth that he just learned.

  “Well, my boyfriend broke up with me yesterday. On Christmas. Can you believe it? I feel absolutely terrible. His name was Zack. Grrr… I HATE that name!” She vents toward him, much more intensely, before softening her tone, “I thought he was going to propose to me yesterday.”

  Friend senses her plummeted confidence, and tries to offer kind words, drawing from instinctive wisdom he feels deep down. He councils her in an almost deadpanned and matter-of-factly way, but with a faint smile. “First, you are absolutely beautiful. If every woman believed this your world… I mean our world would be a beautiful place. So tell yourself you are beautiful, often. Next, everything happens for a reason. You will meet a guy, much better than this other one. You will then find yourself feeling so glad this Zach person did what he did.”

  “Aww thank you, Max,” she warmly responds. She then gestures for his watch, to his apprehension.

  “Your watch? You want me to sync your room tag to it, I assume.”

  He is bewildered for a moment, before he deduces the multiple uses for the timepiece he is wearing. He extends his arm and using a small black device she waves it across his wrist. Feeling that the transaction is complete, he grants her one last smile before walking away, heading to his room for the night. Friend thinks to himself, she is cute, maybe not as beautiful as Cassie, but every woman should be made to feel beautiful in their own way.

  Day 2 – December 27

  Friend spends the next day retracing the events from the previous day two. He returns to the Sparq and visits the sushi restaurant where he and Cassie ate, then the clothing shops, then the Italian restaurant, hoping to run into her. He also purchases a backpack, then food, water. He figures he might as well spend the money and get the stuff he will need, before the panic and looting set in.

  As the minutes near before the announcement, he positions himself just inside the Metropolitan hotel. When the president appears on the hologram he observes the time of 19:50. For the next several minutes, he witnesses again, from a different position, the calm, fun atmosphere outside transform into one of panic and terror.

  Inside the casino, it sinks in a bit slower. Gamblers slowly rise from their seats, receiving the news by word of mouth. Others act without concern and continue their games of chance. Once the panic fully spreads from the outside into the hotel, the security guards are mobilized and begin blocking the entrances. He looks at his watch at this very moment, 20:02.

  Friend makes his way toward the back of the hotel, near the elevators. He plants himself in a nice, out of the way spot, as others frantically run past back and forth like a spooked buffalo herd. Some take advantage and start grabbing merchandise from the gift shops. Employees are heading into the back rooms, taking cover from an emerging angry and terrified mob.

  Then suddenly, he sees something he wasn’t expecting. It’s Cassie, with her friends, evacuating. What a total change of events! They are hastily escaping, Cassie in front, holding Alaina’s hand, Wyatt holding on to Alaina. They make for a stairwell. Friend pursues, fighting through the panicked crowds, trying to keep close. They descend into the underground parking complex, three stories from the main floor. He gains on them, moving evasively and cutting through other stampeding tourists. In the parking area he gets within ten or so meters, the whole time Cassie being mindless to his presence. Just as they make it to her car, Friend crashes into two large men. He pleads sorry as they angrily look on, obscuring his view. By the time he clears them he can do nothing except watch her car drive away.

  It was a missed chance. He could have told her about stuff he remembers seeing on the news, about what roads and borders to avoid, even given her some of his money. But it wasn’t meant to be. Her fate is sealed, and that’s the last he’ll probably see her until he is reborn again.

  He decides to take the stairs all the way to the tenth floor where his room is, avoiding the elevators knowing they will be crammed with evacuees, with his backpack in tow. He enters his room, much smaller than Cassie’s with only one large bed and a view of the backside of Las Vegas. He hides out for the rest of the night, away from the panic.

  Over the remaining days, in the quietness of the vacant city, he has time to think. Will he be given another chance? The one thing he cannot help but replay over and over is what Cassie told him, about her destiny as a world leader, about what her father told her as he lay dying. It sticks
to him like an irrefutable truth that cannot be ignored. It’s not chance that he bumped into her, and romanced with her, all culminating to that exact moment, right before the end, where she revealed to him her most trusted secret. The more the thought lingers in his mind, the more any remaining doubt of it evaporates away. His goal, his destiny, his every reason for being put into this world is for one thing: to save Cassie.

  Max spoke of a bunker. Friend senses that Max slipped, that these bunkers are highly secretive places to save what people they can. Could he provide a location of one? If so, how could he and Cassie gain admittance to it? Escaping the asteroid’s devastating effects seems to be the only way she could be saved. He then wonders, where is Max? He was never seen at any of the festivities on these final days, despite his oath to stay here in Las Vegas. He was never spotted near the Uvia, never at the Planet Real, just not anywhere to be found.

  With the looming asteroid hours away, and no one to comfort, to hold, he does the only thing he can do to hold on to her memory. He visits the same spot, the same park bench, wishing she was there, envisioning her smile, thinking of her final words, their final embrace, until the oncoming asteroid fries him to a crisp.

  6

  Iteration 3

  He awakes to the cold sand, his watch reading 8:21. The sun is still bright yet offering little heat; the slumbering, yet aromatic desert flowers and inviting dirt trail are exactly as he remembered it. Everything is exactly the same, including the shabby and utilitarian clothes that he wakes up to each time. There is no doubt about it: he is living these same six days over and over.