by Aaron Frale
I decided to get some food and kill some time downstairs. I dressed in a nice suit that I bought in a fancy men’s store. I decided to ditch the clothes I stole in case the manager went back on his word and reported them stolen anyway. I knew something was happening beyond the surface of this town, and run-ins with the authorities felt like it was something I should avoid.
I went down to the hotel bar and sat on a stool. I ordered a cocktail and gave the bartender my room number. I picked out a burger and onion rings from the menu, the good old-fashioned American meal if I was even in America. I didn’t even know where I was located. I made a mental note to check out a map when I had a chance. America or not, the burger and the rings were tasty. They were the best damn food I’d had in a while. I ordered another drink when I was done with the meal.
A beautiful brunette sat at the bar a few seats down. She smiled at me, and I rose my glass. There was a danger in interacting with the locals, but it was a good way to do a little reconnaissance. And what’s wrong with a little fun? I may not be a secret agent, but one doesn’t have to be a secret agent to get the ladies. After some more glances with her, I ordered a third drink for myself and one for her. I dug in my pockets for the mints. At least they would come in handy.
I was too focused on the girl to notice the strange mint container. After I had lifted the mint out of the package, instead of another mint, there was an electronic device that was blinking red. I stuffed it back into my pocket and popped the mint into my mouth. The bartender dropped off the two drinks, and I stood up to carry them to her. I crunched into the mint.
And in the next moment, I was at the fruit stand in the grocery store. The well-dressed man was standing beside me. He was examining the fruit on the stand with great care. He looked as if he was searching for perfection, which is next to impossible to find in fruit. I almost told him that when he chided me, “You draw too much attention to yourself. Act like you are buying fruit. Be meticulous, drag out the process but don’t look like you are dragging it out. They can sense it.”
I turned to look at him. “Don’t look at me,” he scolded, and I almost instinctively went back to the fruit. “Your eyes give away too much.” He rolled an apple carefully in his hand. It was perfect…almost. He put it back.
“Who are you?” I finally managed to say as I pressed an orange. I didn’t know anything about buying fruit. A fruit connoisseur, if there were such a thing, would probably see through me. Did pressing lightly on the skin of an orange and watching how fast it rebounds show any indication of sweetness? Does rolling a fig in my fingers show quality? I guess it didn’t matter. I simply needed to look like I was a person who spends too much time buying fruit—which wasn’t the strangest thing I’d done that day.
He took his time answering me. “I guess I am your benefactor. But who I am isn’t important. It’s who you are that matters.”
“So who am I?” I was irritated by his vague answers.
“The briefcase I gave you should have explained that to you. It was programmed to transfer all the information you need to know about yourself as soon as you held the file for a decent length of time.”
“You should have left a note that says read me,” I said.
“You shouldn't have even needed to read it. Just open it and a data transfer. Like a download, if you will, directly into your brain. It would be like you know nothing one minute and have knowledge the next.”
“I kind of lost it.”
“I know.”
“Shouldn’t we find the briefcase before someone else gets the data transfer?”
“Its quantum locked. That means only the person with the right quantum signature can open it. Everyone has a unique signature at the quantum level. The briefcase is tied to yours. Grab a bag and start putting fruit in it. You are drawing too much attention to yourself. Any person in this store could be an agent. Do you know what ‘ancient bookseller’ means?”
“An old guy who sells books?”
The well-dressed man was pretty good at ignoring my attempts at humor. I could tell he wasn't going to be any fun. “I found the words ancient bookseller with the coordinates for this time period.”
“Time period? Who am I?” I asked.
“We are from the future.” The well-dressed man looked out the window. There was a woman on the street. She had ruby red lipstick and a suit that was feminine yet powerful. “They found me. Take out the mints in your pocket.”
“This is getting absurd.” I protested as I fished them out. He yanked the package away from me. He tore open the foil, revealing a device hidden in the mint package. There was an electronic hum. He handed it back to me.
“You must do what I’m about to ask if you want to live. That woman is looking for you. I will distract her, but we must wipe the memory of this conversation, or she will come looking for you in here.”
“But I’m trying to get my memory—”
“There is no time. They will scan my brain and find a record of this conversation. You need to wipe us now! When you are at a safe location, you can experience it again. The device you hold will wipe our memories. It will store the memory in a mint. All you need to do is eat the mint, and the memories will return. Make sure you are sitting down when it happens. Now hold it up. Think about wiping both our memories of this conversation.”
“What if I don’t like mints?” I asked.
“Who doesn’t like mints?” the well-dressed man questioned. He turned away from me and faced the front of the store. “Do it while my back is turned.”
I held up the device and thought about wiping the conversation. There was a hum. He darted away from the store. The woman in the suit chased him. I must not have used it correctly. The conversation was still fresh. She would scan his brain and discover him. The machine in my hand looked like a normal mint package with foil ends. I shoved it into my pocket. My memory began to slip. I was talking to a man. There was an apple in my hand. I wanted to bite it. I felt the world fall out of focus. It was like I was falling through an empty void.
I woke up to a woman looking into my eyes. I was on the floor of the bar. The woman, bartender, and a couple of other patrons hovered around me. My thoughts and vision blurred back into reality. I was buying her a drink. I wanted fresh breath. I pressed on my pocket. The mints were still there. I apologized, insisted I was fine and went to my room.
Event 5 - N
Nanette appeared on the street in front of the bookstore for the second time that day. She checked the data stream and knew that he was close by. Jerry's disappearing act from the interrogation chamber was impressive but expected. She was his mentor after all. She began to scan the people on the street because she didn’t want any unexpected events at such a critical time in the mission.
Her scan wasn’t noticeable to anyone but herself. Her technology wasn't detectable by anyone from this time period. Her scanners were her eyes, and the computers processing the scan were the nanomachines in her body. She simply needed to glance around, and she could see every face. There were hundreds of people on the street, and she cataloged everyone. If her protégé or 07760 were on this street, she would see them. Technology often looked magical to people of early history. Her nanomachines could control devices. A person from this time period would probably think she was a psychic and a genius when technology merely enhanced her. One thumbtouch from this period with an entire library of books and music would amaze those one hundred years ago before the invention of the computer.
Her scanner alerted her to the presence of 07760 before she was able to verify him visually. The alert said 07760 was across the street. She pinpointed his location and saw a homeless man with long hair and a long beard where 07760 should have been. At first, she thought he bought a disguise and was wearing a fake beard. But the scan was accurate. His hair was genetically his hair. She was about to cross the street when she saw her protégé leave the grocery store. He ran down the street, and she chased after him. He ducked into the café.<
br />
She followed him into the café. By the time she entered the main lobby, Jerry was nowhere to be seen. She counted two unisex bathrooms in the back and only one bathroom key on the counter. She snatched the bathroom key, and the irritated barista barked at her, “Bathrooms are for customers only! Can’t you read?”
She ignored the barista and pushed her way to the back bathroom. One said occupied, and the other was vacant. She didn’t need the key, but she stuck it in the lock of the occupied bathroom for show. Her nanomachines flowed into the lock. They quickly disabled the dead bolt, and the door was easy to push open. Jerry was inside. He wasn’t trying to escape her. Her protégé was standing like he wanted to be captured. She rendered him neutral and forced his nanomachines to disable his muscles. She marked him for retrieval, and two other agents appeared in the bathroom. They forced him down on the ground.
The agents burrowed into his short-term memory. It did not cause him pain. Anyone watching them would probably think they were involved in a strange performance art piece. He was frozen, and the agents were staring intently at him. No matter how thoroughly they scanned, the short-term memory was empty.
“He wiped his short-term memory,” one of the agents said.
“Put him in my grayspace. No one sees him except me,” she told the agents.
“Are you…” the agent questioned her.
“Collar him if you have to,” she commanded. The two agents obeyed without further delay. Jerry disappeared with his captors. She picked up the other restroom key and exited the bathroom. She plopped both keys back on the counter. The barista gave her an irritated look and commented about the “Customer’s Only” sign.
Nanette stepped out onto the sidewalk. She scanned for 07760 and found him in the same place across the street. She jumped out into the street. A car honked and sped around her. She dodged through the traffic. Once on the other side, she looked for the homeless man. She pushed past the crowds of people. The homeless man was nowhere to be seen. She scanned the crowd. 07760 had gotten away. The question remained about how he was able to disguise himself so quickly. His hair and beard were real. There was nothing to suggest he double backed on his timeline. Looping a personal timeline was dangerous at best. She was too fixated on the mystery of the homeless man and didn't notice the 07760 without the beard running out of the grocery store across the street with a bag full of fruit. If she had noticed the fruit bearing 07760, she would have thought the homeless 07760 was a glitch in her software.
Event 5 - R
Back in my room, I pulled out the mints. I opened the foil and looked at the device. It had four hooks to hold the mint in place and a blinking red light where the mint should be. I unscrewed the bottom, and there was electronic wizardry comprising most of the mint package. I went to the vending machine and bought a pack of real mints. I placed another mint in the machine and waited. Perhaps more of my memories were stored in the device.
I pulled the mint after a while and crunched into it. Nothing happened. I tested it with more mints by holding it various ways, thought about charging the mint with memories and let the mint charge awhile before eating, and any tactic that may restore more memories. Nothing worked. They were still just regular mints. Nothing seemed to create more memories. I decided to put it back in my pocket. Perhaps it needed to be a special kind of mint treated with some chemical which aids the memory transfer. But somehow, I knew that wasn’t true. It’s like I had used this device before. Perhaps even to wipe everything.
I decided to change gears. The ancient bookseller was something I could find. There had to be a limited number of them in the city. I looked for a phone book. There wasn’t one. I called down to the front desk, and the concierge was awkward. He told me how to access the Wi-Fi. I told him I didn’t have a computer. He began to explain how I could set my phone. I told him I didn’t have a phone either. He offered the use of the computer down in the lobby. I thanked him and went downstairs. I made a point of going the long way so that I wouldn’t see anyone from the bar. I really shouldn’t draw too much attention to myself, at least no more than necessary.
Some kids were playing a game on the computer. There weren’t any parents in sight. I contemplated kicking them off the computer but decided against it. I needed to keep a low profile. Kids could inadvertently cause a commotion. Besides, I wasn’t in a hurry. I grabbed a magazine and sat down. I was reading about the wedding of two people who I knew nothing about when someone sat next to me. They sat so close to me that I felt uncomfortable.
Perhaps the authorities caught up with me, or maybe it was the woman the well-dressed man wanted me to avoid. Either way, I was completely unprepared for who it was. The person was me, with a little more hair, a smooth face, and young smile.
Event 5 - J
Jerry found himself in a vast void of blank space. There was no floor or ceiling. There were no walls. He didn’t even have a chair. He didn’t tire from standing because he wasn’t sure if he was standing. He may very well be lying down because he had no sense of space to orientate himself. He couldn’t figure out if he could relax his legs or keep them tight. He decided to try testing gravity.
Falling in a room without gravity was more difficult than he thought. He couldn’t fall, but he could still move. He could run, jump, and sit, but they all seemed arbitrary. They led nowhere. There must be some sense of gravity because he was able to jump, but up had little meaning without a down. He jumped again and never went down. He floated, but still could walk. He used his mind to move around, but couldn’t tell if he was in motion. It didn’t do much good without something to orientate himself. He may be moving fast or not at all.
The shaking began a day into his imprisonment. It was subtle at first. He could barely notice the discomfort, but then it began to crush him. He felt like his insides were being squeezed. He was being stretched then compressed. He was unable to sit for very long. His mind raced and haunted his thoughts. His body cried out for the nanomachines that used to be active in his system. When Nanette disconnected him, she shut down his control over the nanomachines flowing through his body.
Days later, a woman entered the space. She was ageless and upside down. Or maybe he was the upside down one. He felt like he knew her. He was delirious and delusional. For a moment, he thought, she was Nanette. But he fell back into a fit of fighting phantoms. His body was in pain, and he was unable to control it. She looked at him with pity—or was it laughter? He had trouble reading her expression. His vision distorted. He cried out.
Jerry’s mind reeled, and he felt wretched. He could scarcely focus. Voices spoke to him. They offered to guide him through the pain. His body felt as if it was failing. His mind sank, and there was this woman. She was talking to him. He tried to focus. She was saying something important. He needed to listen, but he could barely sit up before more spasms and hallucinations.
“You've been approved for reprogramming,” she said.
“You don’t have to be sad.” He tried to calm her. This phantom needed tranquility in a tumultuous storm.
“What?” she said.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I will be all right.” He tried to ease her. There was fear in her eyes. If he was going to spend an eternity in torment, he could at least provide some comfort to her. He remembered long ago. This woman was important to him. And he was important to her.
“The symptoms will pass in a couple of days,” she said.
“I’ve scared you, and I’m sorry,” he said earnestly.
She studied him. And he simply stared at her and doubled over again. Agony seeped from every fiber of his being.
Event 6 - R
My doppelganger spoke first. “This is highly irregular, but I couldn’t help myself.”
“Who the fuck are you?” I said.
“I’m you,” he said as if that explained everything.
“I’m not an asshole. So give it to me straight,” I said.
“I’m pretty sure you are from my fut
ure because I don't remember this,” he studied me.
“That makes two of us.”
“You've lost your memory? This is amazing! That means you are my future because I have never lost my memory. I am completely intact. Normally, I shouldn't cross my own timeline, but it's not like it's illegal or anything. This is such an amazing opportunity to study.”
“Slow down. So you’re from my past. So if you knew about this before the memory loss, why didn't I take precautions?”
“How do we know you didn't? History has a way of moving forward regardless of what we do about it. However, it's dangerous to know too much about your future.”
“Because of universe-destroying paradoxes?”
“Do you think humans are so arrogant they can unravel the fabric of reality from a paradox? People aren’t that important on the cosmic scale. Time is not some straightforward linear progression. It's more like branches of a tree or the growth of a vine. So if you kill your grandparents or do something to wipe your existence when you return to the future, you’ll never have existed, but that also doesn’t mean you’ll disappear from existence. You’ll be a person who appears one day from the past with no records. We call them the “lost,” and trust me. It’s not some nice way to start over. It’s more of a good way to have someone take advantage of you because there is no record of your existence. So if crossing a timeline will run the risk of a person becoming a “lost,” people try to avoid it.”