Same Self

by Brad Raylend

  “What exactly do you do here?” Todd asked, glancing back down the hallway from which they came.

  The professor finished imputing his code and turned to Todd. The door hissed and slid open behind him. “We’re changing the world.” He smiled as wind and snow blew into the open doorway.

  Albrecht moved to the side, allowing Todd to step out into the dark arctic night. The winds chilled him to the bone through his thin flight suit. What looked like blue street lights lined the horizon a few hundred meters away. A large airplane hangar was off to his left, most likely the only way in and out of this place. He shivered as the reality of the situation finally set in, as well as the extreme cold. Then suddenly something caught his eye: beautiful green and blue lights from above that faintly lit the icy floor. He looked up into the night sky to see the Aurora Borealis majestically curving amongst the millions of stars lighting up the white landscape. For a brief moment, he was lost in its beauty; the worries of the world no longer existed. It was mesmerizing as he had never witnessed it in person before.

  Professor Albrecht approached him. “It never gets old,” he said with a grin, his hands deep in his coat pockets, the light reflecting off his rimless glasses.

  “Unreal,” Todd whispered.

  Professor Albrecht patted him on the shoulder. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, my friend.”

  A few minutes later, Todd was led back into the building and into a large room with several desks occupied by a few individuals. The far wall was lined with steel bookshelves filled from top to bottom with thick books of various origins. They appeared to be mostly American history, spanning from the Revolutionary War to more current conflicts.

  Professor Albrecht led Todd toward a young woman at a large glass table. Todd was shocked to realize that she was the same one he had seen when he briefly regained consciousness in the operating room. She had a petite figure, and her hair was a dark amber color, pulled back into a short pony-tail. She wore a thick blue coat with a fur collar and hood.

  “Todd, I’d like you to meet Ms. Kara Dennick.”

  She turned quickly in her chair, looking startled at the sight of Todd.

  Albrecht continued, “Kara’s a historian and our subject matter expert on American history.”

  She stood up quickly and reached out to greet Todd. He shook her soft hand, doing his best to look pleased to meet her despite the uncertainty of the current situation. Her eyes were sharp in both appearance and in their ability to pierce through him with an intimidating beauty.

  “So, what’s an expert in American history doing at the North Pole?” Todd asked, pulling his hand away.

  She looked as if she were about to speak, but stopped herself and looked at the professor. Albrecht motioned for Todd to sit in a chair opposite Kara’s desk. He sat down and Albrecht pulled up a chair next to hers.

  The professor pulled a large photo out of one of the folders and slid it across the desk. “Do you recognize this man?”

  Todd picked up the photo and scanned it briefly. “Yeah, it’s me …” His words caught in his throat. He grasped the photo with both hands and studied it closely. The photo was of himself, or at least someone who looked identical to him, but only if he had picked a fight with a mountain lion. The man in the photo had long, swept-back hair with several gray streaks present; longer than Todd had worn his hair within the last few years. The man looked older; his eyes were those of someone who had endured many hard years. Multiple large scars were carved into his face. One in particular spanned from his hairline and cut through his eyebrow and down his cheek. He had what looked to be several weeks of untrimmed beard.

  Todd looked up at Albrecht. “Who is this?”

  Kara looked at Albrecht, and then at Todd. “It’s you … from an alternate course of time,” she said softly.

  Todd dropped the picture on the desk and rubbed his eyes. “Wait … are we talking about … time travel?”

  Albrecht grinned. “Yes, what most used to believe to be only science fiction is now the greatest technological advancement mankind has ever achieved.” He straightened up in his chair and used his hands to assist his words. “The world as you know it,” he said, nodding at the photo, “is a direct result of this man’s actions during the twentieth and twenty-first century. The past eighty years have been altered to make the future you know today.”

  Todd’s look of confusion turned to interest and then disbelief. “Okay …” he said.

  Albrecht removed some documents from the folder and placed them on the table in front of Todd. As he separated them into stacks, he said, “Historical events such as the JFK assassination, the Vietnam War, the Cold War, and even the war in the Middle East of the early 2000s were a direct result of our own personal intervention.” He picked up a document from one of the stacks and handed it to Todd. “Take a look at this, for example.”

  Todd scanned over the document, periodically looking back up at Albrecht and Kara. “These dates … I’m no historian, but they look incorrect.”

  Albrecht nodded. “You’re right, they are not accurate. Not anymore, at least.”

  Kara tapped the screen of the monitor in front of her and began opening files on the desktop by grasping folders with her fingers and moving them down to the glass table that displayed them in a larger format.

  “After World War II, Joseph Stalin began leading Russia towards the Communist state we all know it to be. Before he died of a heart attack in 1962, he was able to absorb East Germany, Czechoslovakia, Poland, Hungary, Romania and Bulgaria all into one nation. This combined nation was what we referred to as the Eastern bloc. This expansion continued for several years as his successor Nikita Khrushchev continued west, taking over Austria, Yugoslavia, Albania, etcetera. You can see where this is going,” she said.

  Todd watched her go on as he did his best to keep up with the verbal data dump. Not only was it a lot of information to take in, but the fact that the information was false to him made it even more difficult. Albrecht was up and speaking quietly with one of the individuals in the room. He then walked over to a large bookcase and began pulling several books off the shelf and stacking them in his arms.

  Kara continued, “They then began spreading their influence into Asian regions such as Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam; mostly through small cell networks containing Russian advisors for the local government troops. By now, they had also moved into Cuba and were working in conjunction with Fidel Castro, preparing to use Cuba as a forward launch point for either troops or missiles. Now, this in turn led to the ‘Bay of Pigs’ ordeal which put President Kennedy in a tight spot with the American people and sparked the distrust between him and the Central Intelligence Agency.”

  She sifted through black and white imagery on her monitor as she spoke. “Kennedy could not be played for a fool again; he hung the CIA out to dry to the American public, blaming them for the failed invasion to alleviate some of the doubt that had been growing towards his administration. Thus, creating much distrust between Commander in Chief and most federal agencies who were operating in a similar independent fashion. By now it was 1965, and Kennedy’s presidency was dragging on …”

  Todd interrupted her. “Wait, 1965? I thought Kennedy was killed in ‘63?”

  Albrecht sat back down and re-entered the conversation. “Remember, Todd, this is an alternate timeline … the original history, before we intervened.”

  A million questions came to Todd’s mind. By “intervened” he now assumed that the organization he was currently being held by was in the business of killing historical figures, including U.S. Presidents. As curious and suspicious as he now was, he decided to let Kara continue before the conversation got too off topic.

  “I’m sorry, go ahead,” he said to Kara as he leaned back in his chair.

  She smiled slightly. “Um … where was I?” she asked, looking back at the images portrayed on her monitor.

  “After the Bay of Pigs invasion.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Anyhow �
�� President Kennedy did not want to do anything rash at this point; anything that would make us appear even more incompetent. So, when word of a growing communist influence in Vietnam began to spread, he went against his CIA leadership’s advice of sending in Special Operations forces, and decided that Vietnam would not be worth the trouble. He argued that the U.S. would have a better chance fighting the Soviets through non-violent negotiations. He was now in the process of disbanding the CIA. He did not trust them, seeing them as a rogue organization within the U.S. government that played by its own rules … which he was not entirely wrong to believe.” She rolled her eyes.

  “When word came out that the CIA had deployed advisors to Vietnam without the President’s approval, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He shattered the CIA into a million pieces … as he had vowed to do. The Central Intelligence Agency, which I’m sure you are more than aware of, is an important factor in the current timeline. They have played a crucial role in every war since their early incarnation as the OSS during World War II. In essence, our first priority here at the facility was to ensure the continuation of the CIA’s existence through the twentieth century. Naturally, they would eventually be re-established in the late seventies, but their absence during the crucial early years of the Cold War were inevitably fatal.”

  Todd scratched his head, leaning forward in his chair. “So, we never originally went to Vietnam?”

  Kara shook her head. “No, Lyndon B. Johnson was in favor of sending troops, but he was only the Vice President … and would remain in that role.”

  “Interesting,” Todd said as he looked around the empty room. The individuals who had been working had left while he was enthralled by Kara’s explanation. Albrecht stood up and walked over to one of the large bookcases and began thumbing through endless spines once more. Todd observed him, trying to get a look at the section of books he was looking at. He turned back to Kara, whose eyes were fixed upon him. She quickly dropped her gaze, returning her attention to the monitor where she tried to appear as though she were organizing her thoughts. It was obvious that she was a wealth of knowledge herself and could have given him this brief history lesson without the aid of her references. Todd couldn’t help but wonder about his “other self.” He was curious as to which role he had played in all this. Did he kill Stalin, and Kennedy? If so, what else could he have altered?

  “I’m sure you have a million questions right now, Todd,” Albrecht said, returning with a few more books. “I know this is a lot of information to take in, but we have to start from the beginning. We will explain everything in due time. For now, I think it’s important that we get you up to speed on the original American history so that you have a basic understanding of how the alternate timelines can be affected.”

  Todd exhaled loudly and stood up. “Look, not that this alternate universe-timeline stuff isn’t cool and all, but is there anything to eat around here?”

  Albrecht smiled and handed him the stack of books he had accumulated. He shuffled through them; they were a variety of nineteenth century American history and fictional Westerns. Todd looked confused at the selection of books bestowed upon him.

  “Come on, let’s get you something to eat,” Albrecht said as he led him to the door, gesturing for Kara to join them.

  Todd followed Albrecht and Kara down the hall, carrying the stack of books like a kid going to school. They came to a door which opened automatically. Inside was a very clean breakroom with a few tables set out around the right side of the room. On the left was a large kitchen which looked to be straight out of the USS Enterprise. On the far wall was another door. Albrecht opened it and motioned down the hallway, which was lined with enough rooms to house the thirty- or forty-some people who appeared to occupy the facility.

  “The first room on the right is yours; the kitchen is fully stocked so feel free to grab something.” He walked over to the other entrance and paused as the door slid open “Get some rest. We have a lot more to discuss in the morning … and it gets a lot crazier.” He grinned and left the room.

  Kara walked over to the kitchen and pulled a mug off one of the hooks above the sink as Todd set the stack of books on one of the tables. She poured herself a cup of coffee while Todd sat down at the table, rubbing his eyes and then resting his elbows on the table.

  “You should eat something,” Kara said as she stirred her coffee and tapped the spoon on the brim of the mug.

  He leaned back in his chair, his heavy eyes staring at the ceiling. The bandages on his jaw and forehead itched and his body ached. He unzipped the flight suit slightly to look at his beaten body beneath. His entire lower abdomen was wrapped as well as his right shoulder.

  “So … how bad was I when you guys found me?” he asked.

  Kara looked surprised at the question. She walked over, holding the cup with both hands. She stood opposite him, appearing nervous to sit. “I’m no doctor … but from what I understand, your injuries were quite severe. You had lost a large amount of blood, and there was doubt whether they would be able to stabilize you.”

  Todd looked down at his hands folded on the table.

  “What happened to you?” she asked.

  He was reluctant at first to discuss the details of his classified mission, but being that these people had known where to find him, had saved his life, and possibly had the ability to travel back in time made operational security seem irrelevant.

  “My … uh … my team and I were tasked with a reconnaissance mission in the capital,” he said, sadness present in his voice. “The communists controlled the airspace in that area so we couldn’t just fly a drone over. We needed to get visual confirmation on a suspected large enemy presence in the city. They were trying to establish a permanent stronghold. There was word that over five hundred thousand communist troops would be massing on the East Coast by the end of the week.” He crossed his arms, resting his elbows on the table. “We inserted the night of the 29th using the Potomac River. From there, we made our way into the city where we used various buildings as urban hide sites. We got visual confirmation on thousands of enemy troops arriving, preparing for an all-out invasion of the country. Destroying them was the only option; however, the obvious lack of air support and their overwhelming size meant we would have to use ORMs. But there were a lot of civilians still left in the city, and …”

  Kara could tell that it had been a traumatizing event for him. His eyes danced around the room as he spoke.

  He sighed. “We remained undetected throughout the next day, but it all went to shit during our exfiltration the night of the 29th.” He paused, stood up, and walked over to the kitchen. He paced briefly and then leaned up against the counter.

  Kara said, “It’s okay, we don’t need to discuss it.” She walked over to the door. As it slid open, she stepped out into the hallway, paused and looked back at Todd, who stood staring at the stainless-steel counter top. “I will be in the archive room if you need anything,” she said and then turned as the door slid shut.

  He remained standing in the kitchen for several minutes. The images of the battle continued to visit him. He quickly scrounged up some food and walked over to the door on the far wall and opened it to the dark hallway. He pressed the switch outside his room, and the door opened.

  Todd flicked the switch beside the door jam and the room lit up, and he was surprised to see it looked occupied. A few black bags lay beneath the bed, and clothing was hanging in the open closet. He was about to leave to find a new room but stopped when he noticed a pair of dog tags on the nightstand. He walked over and picked them up; as he did, he noticed a small leather journal. The front cover had the initials “T.Y.” stamped into it. He picked it up and studied it. The leather was old and cracked. The spine looked to have been hand sewn. He opened it up and thumbed through the pages, seeing that they were mostly small journal entries and sketches. He was much too tired to read into the notes, but paused when the pages stopped turning at a small black and white photo of a lit
tle girl. She looked to be maybe seven or eight. Her bronze skin led him to believe she was from somewhere in Southeast Asia. He flipped the photo over; a message on the back caught his eye. “You can’t change Destiny” was written in pencil. The handwriting looked all too familiar.

  He gazed out the window next to the dresser, watching as the snow was swept up by the relentless winds and blown out into the darkness. He set the journal down and looked at the dog tags. “York, Todd M.” was imprinted on the top of them along with his date of birth, gas mask size, and his DOD identification number, which was different than his own. This confused him. Why wouldn’t they have the same ID number? Weren’t they the same person? He put the tags and the journal down and carefully stripped off his flight suit until he wore only his compression shorts. He looked at himself in the large mirror next to the dresser. Amongst the many bandages were small scabbed-over lacerations and bruises. He gingerly sprawled out on the bed, being careful with his sore body. He looked up at the ceiling, his thoughts turning to his fallen comrades. Rob, in particular. He had met Robert Ackerman during his time in the Operator Training Course (OTC) which was the rite of passage into Delta Force after completing Assessment and Selection. Rob was a hulking six-foot-three, two hundred and thirty pound African American who had spent eight years with Force Recon before making the transition to JSOC. He had been Todd’s closest friend for many years, and his death weighed heavily on him.

  Todd thought about the incredible information that had been disclosed to him. The possibility of time travel and the ability to change the past. He didn’t understand why they had chosen him. It was all overwhelming, yet in a way it brought him a small feeling of hope. Perhaps this was a second chance. To be able to go back to the past and correct your mistakes … it was the type of second chance every man dreamed of.

  * * *

  July 18, 1967

  The heat beneath the jungle canopy wafted off the lush plants and clung to my exposed face like glue. Despite the suit’s internal cooling system, my body was drenched in sweat.