Time Crossers 01: The Final Six Days

by Agster, Joe

  Friend is guided toward his cot. Cassie’s cot is next to him on the left, and Wyatt on the right. Fascinating, he tells himself sarcastically, another night of snoring with Wyatt. They are not around, most likely at the Fortune bar, or perhaps having migrated to another drinking station. It doesn’t matter, the ambient mood in here is undisruptive and peaceful, and having them away keeps it that way. He lays down to rest, his mind still whirring like windmill in a storm. He calms it gradually, through deep breathing, until he passes out.

  Day 3 – December 28

  Friend awakes to a brighter room, the ceiling bright blue and white, intended to mimic the movements of the sun and reminding him that a new day has arrived. After a quiet night of sleep, Friend feels more refreshed than ever. Other bunker citizens are up as well, many conversing about, with children running around in delight. Some find their way to private areas to freshen up, where adjoining rooms provide showers and personal hygiene areas.

  He looks over to see Cassie slowly coming to, unable to ignore the new day interactions any longer. Her face still looks asleep, eye bags and all, hair messed up.

  “Friend, what happened to you? Where did you go?” she asks in a crackled voice.

  “I needed to find myself again,” he replies with a smile, finding irony in those words.

  She talks about their night. They cut off their drinking after a couple drinks, apparently as a policy to avoid public intoxication. They walked around and explored, and then found a bar they liked better. Kind of like the Vyxx, but tamer, with limited dancing and music. Unfortunately, all the bars operate on a network, so after being cut off at one place means you are cut off everywhere. Ultimately it didn’t matter to them, they had fun, danced, released a lot of tension, some caused by the guilt of watching people panic on the holographic telecasts.

  “Let’s get breakfast, just us,” Cassie suggests, getting up and putting socks over her bare feet. She looks around for a place to change her clothing. Friend nods in assent, and already fully dressed, starts treading toward the exit, sure of himself that she will follow.

  She perks up suddenly as he drifts away, grabbing her clothes. “Give me a minute and I’ll meet you outside.”

  Within a few minutes she passes through the door. Feeling cheerful that they are finally alone, she grabs his arm, declaring that she knows a place to go. “It’s a short walk away,” she tells him.

  The restaurant is plain, with a simple menu allowing very few choices. They are told though that the menu and ambiance will expand as time goes on, as more people begin working and managing the place. Cassie orders the plain omelet, while Friend orders the fruit bowl.

  As they wait for their food, Cassie explains the credit system. Everyone pays with their card that they were issued. Everyone has been given some credit, expected to be paid back as they work. Their money earned for work is paid back into the card. Friend is amused. No more paper currency. It’s probably a good thing, exchanging paper notes has always seemed primitive and bothersome.

  The food comes and Cassie changes the subject. Something she’s been pondering for the past day. “I wonder what kind of ‘vocation’ they’ll let me do.” She comments with sarcasm, air quoting the word vocation.

  “Isn’t bartending your thing?” he responds.

  “The bars I’ve seen so far here, I could run in my sleep,” she boasts, revealing her preference for something more wild, something in her groove.

  Friend wisely replies, “Well it’s like this restaurant here. It’s like a blank page, waiting for someone’s creative touch to make it lively and unique.”

  “There’s a rumor going around that they are planning a nightlife district in Zone G, somewhere on the far side away from the habitation areas,” she confidently concludes. “That area will surely be hopping. I’ll have to poke into that.”

  “By the way, I put in a request to see that counselor today. They’ll send me a message, or I can check with a terminal.”

  In under a day, if seems Cassie has fully adapted herself to this new environment. Just listening to her talk gives Friend the impression his services aren’t needed anymore. He’s succeeded after all in saving her. But that one question lingers—what’s going to happen to him once that asteroid hits? It’s that question that keeps him preoccupied and introspective. Those words play over and over in his head: There’s a beginning and an end.

  Later on, after Cassie’s insistence, they explore Zone G to confirm the rumor. The zone does appear to be configured for a nightlife district, but much of it isn’t built and the other buildings are left unoccupied. A blank canvas, she thinks to herself, surely to put her mark here at some point.

  As they walk back from a barren street toward Zone F, she receives a message on her device. She looks with a stunned face, explaining, “We need to meet the counselor now. He’s open in five minutes.”

  The processing center is unwelcoming at best, but if it means finally acquiring a private, personal space, then it’s probably worth it. The counselor is young and friendly, mid-twenties, outgoing and hip, someone who would travel in Cassie and her friends’ social circles. He grants Alaina and Wyatt their own place together after they tell him they want to get married. Cassie and Friend are granted smaller singles quarters, not exactly next to each other, but just a few doors away. Cassie and Alaina are promised jobs in a bar or possible a restaurant with bar. Wyatt gets a job as a personal trainer. Friend, referred to as Aiden, is assigned to something at the water treatment facility.

  At the conclusion of the meeting, Friend promptly walks about, heading straight to his assigned living space in Zone F, a fifth floor apartment. He pays little attention to plans being made by Cassie and her friends, seemingly not interested. She becomes disturbed at his unusual behavior as it is widening a longing she has for him. They’re supposed to be getting to know each other, this supposed man of her destiny, but instead he is drifting away, electing for loneliness instead.

  17:51

  In the evening, Cassie and her friends opt for a nice dinner. Cassie invites Friend who declines, stressing the need to meditate. They go on ahead, finding an Italian restaurant in Zone B. Cassie sits quietly, feeling downhearted as Alaina and Wyatt enjoy each other, feeling like an unnecessary third wheel. Alaina is swept in the moment, but quickly comes down to console her friend.

  “Cassie, he’s obviously bothered by something. Talk to him,” she recommends.

  “He’s avoiding me. Maybe it’s me that’s bothering him,” Cassie frets, perplexed at the turn of events in the past day. In the passion of the moment, she gets up, no longer wanting to just hang out. Maybe she needs some quiet time of her own. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  Cassie takes a walk, trying to clear her mind. Curious about the other zones, she decides to take a non-linear route back to her dwelling. A short walk down the road in the other direction leads into Zone C. As she treks the extra distance, it helps her to reflect, and hopefully she will crack the enigma that is Friend’s behavior.

  Zone C is more tranquil that B. Where Zone B is focused on being a touristy, buzzing zone, Zone C is focused on health and wellness. It has more parks and outdoor space. It contains the large hospital with adjacent medical centers, and the street side businesses are things like yoga studios, juice bars, and massage centers.

  As the walk prolongs, the overhead lights dim slowly, providing a night time effect. She realizes over the walk she actually misses the cold nights, not the climate controlled atmosphere she’s experiencing now. She watches as loners, couples, and families stream up the stairs and elevators to the upper floor residences, mostly silver card holders who got preference to this area. A cute little girl catches her eye, holding a large lollipop, holding her dads hand as they ascend up a stairwell. The girl sentimentally reminds Cassie of herself at that age, as glimpses of her past pop in and out of her head. The girl turns and gives Cassie a cute wave, and she returns the gesture.

  Her eyes caught upward at that m
oment catch something else, something very familiar. It can’t be, she shockingly tells herself. This is going to change everything, for good or for worse. Something she always knew was a possibility, but is now a reality. This is the biggest demon in her life, the one thing she’s been running from for years, and as it now stands into view she understands she can no longer escape from it. She is going to have to confront it.

  13

  Iteration 8, Day 4 – December 29, 0:22

  Who is she fooling? She can lay here all she wants, but the simple fact is she’s not sleeping. There’s not an iota of tiredness in her body.

  “Lights… low,” she commands, restoring a bit of light in her dark apartment. Her new dwelling feels more like a glorified hotel suite. The floor plan is optimized to cram as much livability into the most condensed area as possible, fitting a bathroom, kitchen, and bedroom, joined to a living room that is as spacious as a foyer found in a typical home. It clearly has the handprints of an efficiency engineer.

  Would he be up for talking? It’s late, past midnight. He probably knows her better that she knows herself at this point. There’s little to debate, she concludes, rambling on to herself in a low voice. She slips on her slippers and puts on a coat over her pajamas, just enough for the thirty-meter trek.

  She approaches his door with angst, in a moment of hesitation before knocking. They haven’t spoken since meeting with the counselor, and she would love nothing more than dispelling this distant weirdness. She raises her knuckle, in the moment wondering if this is his door, as she’s never seen him enter or exit it. What if he traded his room for another? As she respites the simple task of knocking, the door suddenly opens.

  Unable to contain herself, she jumps forward and gives him a big hug. She then contemplates how he knew she was standing there, but then she remembers she feels it too, a strange knowing when each other is around.

  “Friend, I saw them,” she exclaims.

  “I had a feeling about this,” he replies, already knowing who she is talking about.

  “How?” she asks, knowing it’s probably just a rhetorical question.

  Friend offers her solace. “You’d spoken about them so infrequently over these iterations, and when you do your demeanor turns cold. I’ve always wondered why, but was afraid to ask.”

  If there is one subject Friend would love to understand more, it’s this decayed relationship between her and her mother and brother. But it has to come from her. From bits and pieces of information, he’s hypothesized that they haven’t spoken in a few years, their relationship being so fractured that they stubbornly avoided contact even with the asteroid crash imminent. Perhaps her mother has tried. He is wise enough to understand that no mother who bears a child into this world and loves her even in the slightest goes out of her way to avoid contact with her forever. This staunch evasion of her mother is definitely a product of Cassie’s dark side, where Friend has yet to probe.

  Cassie then explains further, “It’s not that I hate her, Friend. It’s that she hates me. I’m a college dropout failure. But that’s not the worst of it. I could hold a double doctorate and I’d still be a double doctorate failure.”

  Friend realizes he is no relationship expert, but based on everything he’s learned it’s her mom that causes her to drive herself down, preventing her from living to her potential. Cassie is subconsciously rebelling. If Cassie were to be a resounding success in her life, it would mean her mom would “win.” Cassie needs to detach from this, learn to live with the fact that her success is her own. In the least, replace rebelling with pleasing her father.

  “Cassie, if you had a double doctorate, would your father think you were a failure?” he wonders.

  “No, of course not,” she replies immediately without even contemplating it.

  “Then forget your mother. Be successful for your father, or better yet for yourself. Starting right now, tell yourself you’re doing it for him. Returning to your studies. Fulfilling your destiny. Do this, and the animosity you and your mother share will just simple wither away and die.”

  Friend extends out his arms to her, knowing she needs comforting. She gets it, she understands that. She just needed someone to tell her that. But the truth is, confronting your demons is not the same as talking about it. He holds her, her yearning for sleep suddenly returning. She wants to stay in his room, to not be alone any further. As he holds her while they lay on the couch, they both fall asleep.

  Just before dawn Friend wakes up, awkward from sleeping on the couch under her weight. To his surprise, she is gone. It’s probably better. He’s certainly going through something strange, and being preoccupied as the hours countdown doesn’t help. The best he can hope for is that she confronts her mother, keeping her busy, so that she doesn’t have to see him like this. He’d rather be alone today.

  Day 5 – December 30

  Cassie realizes she cannot avoid the inevitable. They are bound to cross paths. After spending yesterday scrutinizing a plan, she determines that she’d rather be seen by her mother, not actually talk to her. If she were to casually place herself somewhere along her mother’s route, a place conspicuous enough but distant, it will stir her up. Cassie then can return the favor, putting the ball back in her mother’s court.

  The past couple of days she has learned Zone C well. On one particular corner she admires the fitness center with its large window panes providing a view into the stationary bikes and treadmills. Toward the back are classes for various aerobics. Nearby she spots a bookstore, a piece of nostalgia for those who still clamor to paper-based literature. These are places her mother would visit.

  Cassie maintains a constant awareness to her surroundings, hoping her mother, or even her brother will come into her view. After an hour or so has passed, she begins to question her intentions. Maybe this can wait another day, she thinks. Like particles in a collider they are bound to crash into each other at some point. Not willing to give up just yet, she decided to walk around the block one more time.

  She comes to the site of a Chinese restaurant. A rush of memories comes to her. Her mom loves Cantonese food, and they would often visit an authentic Cantonese restaurant in Beverly Hills when she was young. Her younger brother and she would make fun of the decor, snickering as playful children do, as her mom would sternly tell them to be silent and respectful. At her mother’s behest, her father would scold them, then throw them a secret smile. She relishes those happy days, back when her father was alive and her parents were still married and happy. She is caught up in the moment when suddenly she hears her name.

  “Cassandra?” She hears as she turns around, finally coming face to face with her mother.

  Cassie has absolutely nothing to say, her mind numb and her body incapacitated by the gravity of the moment. Her strategy of just being seen has crumbled like an imploding building. The demon that she has so elusively avoided stands before her, its full weight bearing down on her worse than any looming asteroid.

  “Mother,” she calls back in an emotionless voice.

  Her mother is normally cold, normally strict. She is not one to pander to emotions, but this time is different, as she grabs her daughter and embraces her with a warm hug. Cassie, confused by the gesture, slowly embraces back.

  “I prayed for this. I asked your father to watch over you, to guide you,” she remarks, hinting in her voice that she knows something Cassie does not. “Why would you hide from me for so long? I tried to call you. Warn you.”

  “Did you already know I was here?” Cassie wonders.

  A mother takes a moment, then collects herself for her rebuttal, knowing that as a mother she is always going to know things more than her daughter, but trying to avoid giving her that impression that she is somehow less than her. She must have seen her, or possibly looked her up somehow.

  “Yes. I did.”

  Cassie is disturbed by the revelation. Her mother is always in the background, incessantly trying to have an edge on her, like a never ending con
test, even encoded in this outpouring of exhilaration. Cassie would have walked away is disgust by now, if it weren’t for Friend’s words, his advice to just ignore her mother and do things for her father. Be what he wants her to be.

  “I would like to meet with you sometime, Dylan too.” Cassie offers.

  “Your brother would like that,” her mom responds, holding her emotions in check, then after a moment, relenting. “Me too.”

  Her mother gives her the location to their apartment in Zone C, and Cassie tells her she’s in Zone F. Because of the different zones, Cassie would need to check in at the gate before going up.

  “Goodbye, mom.” Cassie lets out as she walks away, granting her one final hug.

  Throughout the day, Friend has meditated in his room until he reaches an epiphany: He intently believes he cannot live beyond 4:21 on January 1. It represents the end. It must be true, just as 8:21 presents the beginning. He is given a total of 140 hours to live, over and over again. It is a strict window he is forced to adhere to, for better or worse. With less than a day and a half to go, he understands now that he must live them out to the best of his ability, and that’s what he is going to do. Relieved at this revelation, he decides to seek Cassie out and make up for lost time.

  Toward the evening Cassie sits in a coffee shop in Zone F, reading the news on her device, enjoying a small espresso drink. It shows images of Las Vegas after being evacuated, followed by reports that many people are returning. Just as she is focused on the narrowly protruding hologram from the screen, Friend enters, spotting her instantaneously.

  “Cassie!” He says her name, beaming.

  “Hey! Come sit with me.” She smiles back, cheerful to see him.