Redemption: Supernatural Time-Traveling Romance with Sci-fi and Metaphysics

by Jacklyn A. Lo

  There was a chorus of “yes” and “you bet”, mingled with laughter from some of the team.

  “I took the opportunity to read through the Simpson contract again,” said John eagerly.

  This comment raised even more laughter.

  “Teacher’s pet!” said Peter good-humoredly. “Have you brought Ann an apple today?”

  “No,” John frowned at Peter, then, turning to Ann, asked her, “Would you like an apple?”

  “Allow me,” said the robotic voice of Mike-15, plucking up an apple from the bowl on the table and passing it to Ann.

  “I’m fine, thank you,” she said, placing the apple to one side. “Well, I’m glad you all enjoyed your time off, whatever it was you got up to.” She gave John and Peter meaningful look, her eyebrows raised. “Now, however, it’s time to get back to our work. If you could all look at your screens, you’ll see the sales figures for the Second Generation E-A over the last quarter.”

  Ann paused as she noticed that, around the room, people glanced at one another in confusion and peered at the screens embedded in the tabletops.

  “I don’t seem to have the file,” said Peter.

  Frowning, Ann looked at her own screen. “Sorry,” she said, tapping a finger on the glass surface, “Here it is. Okay, what I want to draw your attention to are the monthly European sales.” She looked up at the sound of muttering and noticed Peter was talking to the guy sitting next to him. “Peter?” she said, and he quickly turned to face her.

  “Yes?”

  “Perhaps you could suggest why I might be concerned about the European sales of the Second Generation E-A.”

  “I would, Ann,” said Peter, pointing at the display in front of him. “But these appear to be the figures for the First Generation. I’m not a psychic.”

  She blinked in surprise at his use of the term psychic, then bent forward again and focused on her screen. He was right, it was the wrong file. She began to swipe through the files she had uploaded, looking for the correct one, but found it hard to concentrate. This wasn’t like her at all. What was wrong with her? As soon as she asked herself the question, she knew what the answer was. It was that wretched dream! She rubbed her forehead, trying to focus and stop thinking about the psychic. Why did Peter have to use that word?

  “I’ve got the file here,” said John, raising his hand like an over-keen school child. “Shall I distribute it?”

  “Er, sure.” Ann nodded at him. “Thanks, John.”

  Again, heads leaned forwards to consult their screens as the correct figures were displayed at last.

  “Ah!” said Peter. “Yes. I see what you mean about the European sales, Ann.”

  Ann took a deep breath before looking up with a smile. “Excellent! Perhaps you could share your thoughts with the whole team.”

  ~

  As Ann drove away from work that evening, she was still feeling irritated with herself.

  “It was embarrassing, Rob.” She thumped the steering wheel, causing Rob to raise his eyebrows.

  “I’m sure it was just a brief lapse, that’s all. Everyone has them from time to time.”

  “Well, I don’t! It took me years of hard work and dedication to become a team leader at A.I.I, the only female team leader in the whole organization, and I refuse to jeopardize that because of some stupid dream!”

  Rob was silent for a moment as he considered his response. “You seem tense, my lady.”

  “You think?”

  “Might I suggest a workout to ‘work out’ the pressure and frustration you’re feeling? Amphibia is only a few blocks from here.”

  “That,” she said, turning the car towards her exclusive gym, “is a fine idea, Rob.”

  But when, a few minutes later, she pulled up in the parking lot at the front of Amphibia, she did not get out. Instead, she sat and stared at the massive building that towered above her. Her focus was taken up by a large display, an advertisement for membership in the gym. On it was displayed a beautiful, slim woman and an equally attractive, muscular man, both wearing clothes that showed off their perfect physiques. The banner read: “The Future You?” Beneath this was the message, “You can’t change the past, but we can help shape your future. Ask us how.” Ann sat and stared at the sign, deep in thought.

  “You can’t change the past,” she said, whispering the words under her breath. “You can’t change the past.”

  “Sorry, my lady?”

  Distracted, she turned and saw the concerned expression on Rob’s face.

  “Nothing, Rob,” she said. “Only we won’t be going to the gym after all.”

  “Oh?”

  “No. Do you remember how we got to that psychic’s house the other day?”

  ~

  If anything, the streets in this area of town were even more desolate and dreary than they had been when she had been here with Nina. Maybe it was because Nina was not with her that it seemed somehow more intimidating. After all, Ann enjoyed the company of her easy-going friend and Nina’s mischievous sense of humor. Glancing back along the street nervously, she turned down the alleyway. There were no children playing here today, though at the far end she could make out the shapes of a few people standing and looking at something Ann could not make out. A movement in a nearby doorway caught her eye and she realized there were a couple leaning against the wall, locked in an amorous embrace. She quickly hurried through the bead curtain and into the psychic’s house.

  It was as dark in the entrance hall as she remembered, though a faint glow came from under the closed door on her right. Ann wondered if the old woman already had a customer in there with her. Uncertain what to do she headed towards the room she had not been into before, where Nina had waited the last time they were here.

  “Come on in, Ann,” said the unmistakable croak of the psychic’s voice. It was coming from behind the closed door. “Don’t be shy. In you come.”

  Ann reached out for the handle and swung the door slowly open. The old woman was sitting exactly as she had been before, as though she had not moved an inch since Ann left.

  “That’s right my dear, come and sit down.” She gestured to the other couch. “It’s nice to see you again. I knew you would come tonight.”

  Ann sat down, sinking into the soft cushions. “I’d like to have one more session, please.”

  “Yes, yes. I know. What else would you be doing in my shabby, little hovel? I trust your new gentleman is taking good care of you?”

  Ann’s eyes widened in amazement. “How you do know about Michael?” she asked. “Did Nina tell you?”

  “Your friend, the butterfly? No. I haven’t seen her since you left. But I know about him all the same. It’s written. I have seen.” She gazed solemnly into Ann’s eyes for a moment before continuing, in a far jollier voice, “Anyway. Enough of all that mysterious stuff. Let’s get down to business. Why not lay down, my dear. Relax.”

  Ann did so, though, despite the softness of the cushions and the calming surroundings, she felt nervous. “It won’t be as harrowing as the last session, will it?” she asked, turning her head to face the psychic.

  “Who could say? But you need not worry. Whatever happens, whatever you see, you will be fine. I’ll be here watching over you.”

  With that, the old woman starting mumbling strange words under her breath, just as she had done the last time. Ann allowed herself to settle back into the couch and immediately found that she was drifting off to sleep, her mind dulling, her eyelids growing heavy.

  She closed her eyes and slept…

  Imperial Rome. First Century A.D

  Chapter Ten

  He opens his eyes as single beam of sunlight cuts through the colonnade.

  Where am I? he wonders and, shielding his face from the harsh light, he finds himself looking into the face of a young woman, beaded hair hanging over her face. She is asleep and she is naked. Failing to recognize her, Ra sits up, and notices she is held in a tight embrace, a man’s leg lying across hers, his ar
m draped across her breasts. He also is asleep and just as naked. And they are not the only ones. The whole of the palace garden, Ra now realizes that this is where he is, is strewn with the sleeping bodies of the naked partygoers.

  Surely not! Panicking for a moment, he feels at his chest. Thank goodness! At least I still have my robes on. Not that there would be any reason to take them off, not for him at least, since most of the activities that had been enjoyed by these slumbering people were outside his experience. Most of the activities, but not all, and as Ra climbs unsteadily to his feet, he accidently kicks an amphora that is lying on its side.

  He looks down as the heavy vessel rolls away, its contents leaving a thin, red stream across the white marble.

  Eurgh! Wine! He groans and massages his temples, his headache suddenly making itself felt. What’s wrong with me, why do I always do this to myself? I was supposed to be watering down my wine. Why didn’t I? Of course, he knows the reason. Undiluted wine is the quickest way to escape these wretched parties—orgies held by the young emperor, Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, better known these days by his nickname: Caligula.

  Looking down at his feet, Ra notices he is not wearing sandals and a quick scan of the surrounding area fails to reveal them.

  Where can they be? He kicks aside a nearby cushion, but there is nothing beneath it except a cheap-looking bracelet. Still rubbing his head, he makes his way around the courtyard, peering under couches and between bodies in various states of undress, most of them lounging about in shameless and quite graceless poses, their limbs stretched out across each other. As Ra makes his way around the courtyard there is an almost constant chorus of snores, groans and the occasional belch from the sleeping figures. As always after these all-night debaucheries, the area is a complete mess. Items of clothing and garlands are strewn across the lawn and surrounding bushes. Empty amphorae and silver platters, still half covered with bits of untouched food and crushed fruit, lay wherever they happened to be dropped, and some joker has dumped a couple of bay trees, complete with their ornate pots, in to the fountain. Idiots, thinks Ra, shaking his head at this behavior and accidentally stepping on someone’s arm sticking out from under a bush. He quickly removes his foot as a low groan comes from somewhere inside the foliage. As he peers through the leaves, he makes out the shape of a man and a couple of young women, one of whom lets out a groan of her own and, Ra notices, is not entirely naked. Not that she is wearing anything that covers her very much. She has on a pair of sandals. Ra’s sandals.

  “Thank you!” says Ra, slipping them off the girl’s feet and strapping them onto his own. She half opens her eyes and lifts up her head to see what he is doing, and lets out a low groan before letting her head drop back to the bare earth. Getting to his feet, Ra walks across to the fountain and attempts to lift out one of the potted plants, but it is far too heavy for him. Instead, he kneels down and splashes water on his face. It is cool and refreshing, and goes some way towards easing the dull throbbing in his head. As the sunlight sparkles off the rippling water, dazzling his eyes, he looks up at the sun and realizes it is almost at its zenith. Noon already, and he is the first person awake. It must have been a long night! This glimpse of the sun reminds Ra of the day’s responsibilities that must soon be dealt with. How far they are from all of this, he thinks to himself as he makes his way through the rooms of Caligula’s vast palace. My responsibilities as an Egyptian priest are a comfort to me, especially after everything that I have endured, Caligula’s parties being the least of it. Twelve years since Tiberius had me exported from my homeland. In Egypt my family had the privilege to oversee the worship of the goddess Isis at her great temple on the island of Philae—an important position that earned us the favor of those in power. He thought of his grandfather, who was taken into the palace of Queen Cleopatra and given responsibility for many religious matters, and of his father, the high priest at Philae. Ra had always enjoyed listening to stories of that great era. His father had educated his son in all of the rites, rituals and, most importantly, the mystical magic involved in the worship of Isis. I am proud to carry on the family tradition, Ra thought to himself. I’m only sorry that I will not be able to pass it on. Not since Tiberius shipped me to Rome to oversee his new temple on the Palatine Hill; not since the emperor, in his wisdom, decided that a real Egyptian priest should be a eunuch.

  Ra looks enviously at the sleeping figures around him, many still locked in embraces and in various stages of nudity. Such fleshly delights have long been denied him. It isn’t even that he actually feels any sexual desire for women, or men for that matter, and when the coupling began the night before, he genuinely preferred to slink off and get stuck into the wine. He has never, and will never, know such pleasure as these people took for granted. And he will never know the love of a woman. How could he, when he had been so cruelly mutilated? He can barely even be considered a real man, but rather something else, neither man nor woman. Why did Caligula demand his presence at these orgies, where he could do little more than take part in the drinking? The reason, however, is clear. There is nothing the young emperor enjoys more than a show, as exotic a gathering as possible. Flute players, artists and dancers, the most beautiful of women and men from across the empire.

  And some not-so-beautiful ones, thinks Ra, as he catches sight of one of the more freakish elements of the gathering, a giant of a man whose body was covered in burn scars and whose eyes were blank flesh. Caligula’s parties often have such people, delighting the exotic and bizarre from dwarves and bearded women to those with more or fewer body parts than usual. It makes for a colorful mix at these imperial orgies and seems to satisfy some of the emperor’s darker desires.

  “Hey!” Ra stops as a hand suddenly grasps his ankle and looks down to see the half-awake face of a young man wearing the tattered remains of a stola. Ra kicks the hand away and the man mutters something unintelligible.

  “Glub mmph.”

  “What?” says Ra with a frown.

  “Bleurgh mmph,” mumbles the man, pointing at a goblet nearby.

  “This?” asks Ra, picking up the goblet. The man tries to grab it but misses. Closing one bleary eye he tries again and this time manages to hook a couple of fingers around the goblet’s stem. Without looking to see what it contains, the man pours the contents into his mouth, or at least, mostly into his mouth, though a large amount dribbles down his cheeks onto the legs of another young man. When at last the wine is gone, the man drops the goblet onto the floor and sinks back into a stupor.

  “Sleep well,” says Ra, turning away again.

  Having eventually found his way out through the maze of rooms in the emperor’s palace, Ra climbs into one of the palanquins lined up nearby.

  “To the Temple of Isis!” he says to the chief bearer, then lets the curtain drop behind him.

  As always, the city is a hive of activity, and on the first day of the public holidays in celebration of Saturnalia, it is even louder and busier than usual.

  The bearers head across the forum, winding their way between the street traders, with their stalls filled with all kinds of vegetables, meat, spices and sweetmeats, parents and children, who are enjoying the day’s festivities, senators, busy networking with one another, soldiers keeping an eye on some of the seedier-looking men hanging around the forum, and countless slaves darting backwards and forwards on various errands.

  What a city, thinks Ra as he peers out of the window. It truly must be the center of the world! His head, however, begins to ache even worse from the light and noise outside, so he takes hold of the drapes and pulls them across the windows.

  The palanquin suddenly tilts forwards, almost pitching him out of his seat and causing him to bang on the woodwork crossly.

  “Watch it, you fools!” They must be heading downhill towards the Circus Maximus. Sure enough, it is not long before the sound of metal on metal begins to filter through the drapes. It must the final training sessions for the gladiators before the games begin i
n earnest. He pulls a curtain aside slightly to peer out, but of course he cannot see anything except the walls of the circus.

  Why not, he wonders. I could go and have quick look. Who’s really going to miss me at the temple for another hour or so? No one.

  “Drop me over there,” he says, leaning out of the window to speak to the lead bearer.

  As they lower the palanquin, Ra pulls a purse out of his robes, which has somehow survived the night’s activities. He steps out onto the street as he takes out two brass quadrans, which he tosses to the lead bearer. It’s an extravagant gesture, double the going rate for so short a journey, but, in spite of his slowly-easing headache, Ra is in a good mood. He closes his eyes for a moment and bathes in the sunlight, bright and warm, shining from a sky of a deep, sapphire blue.

  Right, he thinks as he sets off with a spring in his step. Let’s see what these gladiators are up to today. Heading through a nearby entrance, Ra emerges into the Circus Maximus.

  The place is huge, its sand-covered arena stretching away to the right and left. All around it the white stone benches raise in tiers. Ra selects a seat near the front and gazes around at the great spectacle laid out before him. There must be hundreds of gladiators, dressed and armed in the various styles that were chosen to match their personal skills. A short distance away a Retarius, swinging his net in one hand, faces a heavily armed Secutor, his eyes keeping careful watch from within the distinctive helmet. Both fighters have wooden weapons—a trident for the Retarius and a sword for the Secutor—and as Ra looks around the arena, he sees that this is true of all the gladiators. There is no point in wounding such expensive assets before the crowds turn up to pay for the pleasure of watching them spill their blood!