Time Thief

by Greg Krojac

  Ari was becoming excited. The furthest back he had previously time-jumped was six weeks. This time he was going to travel back fifty-three years. He didn’t even know if it was possible. He’d never heard of anyone going back more than one year. He was aware that he might even die in the attempt – the current record for a time-jump was three hundred and fifty-nine days – but pioneering was never without risk.

  His first jump would be a reconnaissance mission to confirm that Gillian was still alive on that date. Then he’d come back to 2073 and dig deeper into her medical records to find out when she contracted the virus.

  He locked up his apartment and went outside to the street. There was no point in time-jumping from outside his own house as he’d arrive in 2020 needing to make his way to Rosaline Road using the public transport of fifty-three years ago. It would be far easier to travel to Rosaline Road in 2073 and jump from there.

  He could have called an Uber but that would have involved him using their phone app so he hailed a cab off the street. Like most London taxis, the cab was fully automated and didn’t need a human driver.

  The external speaker of the cab crackled into life.

  “What’s your destination, please?”

  Ari sometimes wondered if progress was always a good thing. It must have been nice in the old days when taxis had real human drivers that you could actually have a conversation with during the journey. Maybe he’d find out what that was like in 2020.

  He gave his destination.

  “Rosaline Road, SW6.”

  He didn’t see the point of saying please or thank you to a machine. The speaker responded.

  “Address recognised. You may enter the vehicle.”

  The journey didn’t take long, the traffic being efficiently controlled via the city’s Automatrix system, making traffic congestion – especially in London – a thing of the past. Ari was glad that he didn’t live in the days of bumper-to-bumper traffic, blaring car horns, and irate drivers. He paid the fare using his currency card, got out of the cab, and took a last look at 2073.

  He wound his pocket watch backwards. He hadn’t taken into account how long it would take to dial back fifty-three years and how sore it would make his finger and thumb, but he continued until the pocket watch registered the time, date, and year that he required, before pushing the winder back to its normal position.

  Then he was gone.

  12:45, Wednesday 01 July 2020

  Rosaline Road, Fulham, London SW6

  The temperature in Fulham had climbed to 20°C during the morning and the sky was patchy with a few clouds. Ari felt a little queasy after his time-jump but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He looked around him, finding it hard to believe that he had travelled fifty-three years to the past.

  Rosaline Road looked familiar but there were subtle differences. The tree stump that had stood on the pathway when he had time-jumped was no longer there, but the original tree was. Full of leaves, it was quite beautiful and Ari wondered why it had been cut down in his time. Although it was daylight, he could see that the streetlights weren’t solar-powered – they had no receptors installed. Several cars were parked on the street but they were nothing like the solar-powered vehicles that were so popular in 2073. It was as if he’d walked into a living history museum. The houses themselves didn’t look very different but that didn’t surprise him; by the 2040s many London streets and houses had been issued with preservation orders to stop the spread of dull faceless architecture.

  Children walked past him grinning at the bizarre-looking man in his old-fashioned clothes and dark goggles, and adults gave him quizzical looks too. They weren’t used to seeing anyone quite like Ari.

  Some of the people out and about wore masks but many had their noses and mouths uncovered or their masks tucked under their chins. A few wore no mask at all. Too many, in Ari’s opinion. He couldn’t help thinking to himself, if only they knew. There wouldn’t be vaccinations available until the end of 2020 and even those wouldn’t be effective against the COVID mutations that would cause three more coronavirus pandemics in the following decades. He felt safe, knowing he was up-to-date with his multi-coronavirus vaccination from 2073.

  Unlike in his time, where the people of his borough were used to his appearance, the stares that he received from passers-by made him feel a little conspicuous and he was relieved when Gillian walked up the road twenty minutes later.

  Gillian opened the metal gate to her house and turned her key in the lock. Her husband, Anthony, beat her to it and opened the door before she had a chance to. He gave her a quick kiss.

  “How was the test result, hun?”

  Gillian beamed at her husband.

  “Negative. Means I can go on working for a little longer at least.”

  Anthony nodded.

  “Good job too. The NHS needs all hands on deck.”

  Gillian stepped inside the house and closed the door behind her.

  Ari wound his pocket watch forwards until it registered the exact time that he had left 2073 and pushed the winder back to its regular position.

  09:33, Saturday 25 March 2073

  Rosaline Road, Fulham, London SW6

  Back in 2073, Ari felt a little nauseous. He’d never experienced the sensation before when time-jumping, except for the trip to 2020, but he’d never travelled so far back in time before nor so far forward to get back home. The feeling soon settled down and, within a couple of minutes he felt well enough to make his way back home.

  However, that’s not where he went. Adrenaline was pulsing around his system and he felt an urge to talk to about what he’d just done. He’d broken the time-travel record by fifty-two years. He had to share his excitement with someone and it couldn’t be just anybody – they needed to be both trustworthy and understand the importance of what he had just done.

  It had to be Tom. He knew Tom would try to talk him out of solving the mystery but he felt confident that he’d remain steadfast. Tom would say there were strict rules about interfering with the past. Time-travellers, who were mostly PTIs, had an obligation to just observe and record. They were forbidden from intervening in any situation that could change 2073’s present. Ari already knew all the objections that Tom would raise.

  Tom buzzed Ari in, surprised to see his friend.

  “Ari, I thought you were on vacation. I thought you were going to travel.”

  Ari grinned.

  “I have.”

  “You can’t have. You haven’t had time to go anywhere.”

  “That is because I have not been anywhere. I have been anywhen.”

  Tom frowned.

  “I hope I misheard you. You know time-jumpers aren’t for recreational use.”

  “It is not recreational. I am trying to solve a mystery like we PTIs do. Except this one does not involve cheating couples.”

  Tom hoped he was wrong about where this conversation was going.

  “Please tell me you’re not getting involved in this crazy fantasy that someone who clearly never existed, did exist, and has been wiped from the timeline.”

  “It is not crazy and it is not a fantasy. Dr Spencer did exist.”

  Tom stood up and started pacing the room.

  “He didn’t. But, just for the sake of argument, let’s say I believe you and he did exist, what do you plan to do about it?”

  Ari paused.

  “I am going to stop Dr Spencer’s mother from dying before she has a chance to conceive him.”

  “What do you mean? What’s his mother got to do with anything?”

  “In this timeline, she died of COVID-19 before she had a chance to give birth to her son, Doctor Spencer, but in the other timeline –”

  “What other timeline?”

  “The timeline where Doctor Spencer discovers the time travel algorithm. In our original timeline, she does not catch COVID and life, as we know it, goes on. I have got photos of–”

  “Photos can be manipulated. Have you never heard of fake news? Th
is Doctor Spencer never existed. Why do you keep insisting with this nonsense?”

  Ari took a deep breath.

  “Sit down, Tom. Please. It is making me dizzy watching you pace around the room.”

  Tom returned to his chair.

  “Well?”

  Ari leaned forwards.

  “Because it is not just him. Isabella Hardacre disappeared too.”

  “Who?”

  “Another team member.”

  “Ah. Another figment of your imagination.”

  “I think someone is eliminating the time-travel research team. I do not know why, but that is what they are doing.”

  Tom scoffed.

  “So you plan to go back and prevent these ‘disappearances’ from happening?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, you can’t. It’s against all the rules. Besides, nobody’s ever gone back further than one year. We don’t even know if it’s possible.”

  “It is.”

  “What is?”

  “It is possible to go back further than a year. I have done it.”

  “What do you mean you’ve done it?”

  “I went back fifty-three years. This morning.”

  “Fifty-three years? Are you out of your mind?”

  “Possibly. But I did it anyway.”

  “But why? Whatever possessed you to do that? You could’ve got killed.”

  “But I did not.”

  “But you could’ve.”

  Tom stood up and started pacing again.

  “Just think of the damage you might have done to this timeline. That’s why it’s strictly forbidden to interfere with a timeline.”

  “I did not interfere. I observed, just like we are supposed to. It was a fact-finding mission.”

  “But you do plan to interfere.”

  Ari paused.

  “Yes. But only to bring the timeline back on course.”

  “You can’t, Ari. You just can’t. I forbid it. Who knows what damage you could do? Think of all the paradoxes you could invoke. The timeline is what it is. You won’t just be changing what you consider to be your timeline, you’ll be changing this timeline too.”

  “But my timeline is the correct timeline.”

  Tom was exasperated.

  “There’s no such thing as a correct timeline. A timeline is. It’s neither correct nor incorrect. It just is. And you have no right to interfere.”

  Tom continued.

  “And what about The Predestination paradox. Maybe whatever actions you take, the end result will be the same. Nothing will change. In which case you’ll have wasted your time and there’s no point in going.”

  Ari was prepared.

  “Maybe. But it is my time to waste and will have been a great adventure.”

  “What about the Bootstrap paradox?”

  “I promise not to have sex.”

  “The Grandfather paradox?”

  “I am going back to prevent someone from getting killed, someone who should not have died. I am not going to kill anyone. I certainly do not intend to kill my grandfather. Or any ancestor of mine, for that matter.”

  “But you might. By accident.”

  “I will be especially careful. It is a risk I am willing to take. If I suddenly get wiped out of existence, so be it.”

  “As I said before, you’ll interfere with our timeline.”

  “The timeline you are aware of. But whoever is causing these researchers to disappear is already interfering. I just want to put things right. Back how they are supposed to be.”

  Tom was tempted to demand the return of the pocket watch but something stopped him. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. Against all his instincts, he was going to let Ari go ahead with his plan.

  “You’re going to go, no matter what I say, aren’t you, Ari? I know you are. But promise me you’ll be careful. I’ll see you when you get back.”

  12:45, Wednesday 01 July 2020

  Rosaline Road, Fulham, London SW6

  Ari was back in Rosaline Road. He was also back in 2020. The tree was still there. The same cars were parked on the street. The same children walked past him but they didn’t give him a second look this time as he wasn’t dressed any different to anyone else in 2020.

  Twenty minutes later, Gillian walked up the road, opened the metal gate to her house, and turned her key in the lock. Anthony opened the door from the inside and gave her a quick kiss.

  “How was the test result, hun?”

  Gillian beamed at her husband.

  “Negative. Means I can go on working for a little longer at least.”

  Anthony nodded.

  “Good job too. The NHS needs all hands on deck.”

  Gillian stepped inside the house and closed the door behind her.

  Ari wasn’t sure what he should do next – he hadn’t thought his plan through. Then the door of the Spencer household opened again and Gillian stepped outside. She called to her husband.

  “Do you need anything from the shops?”

  Clearly, Anthony didn’t as she opened the gate and walked down the street.

  Ari followed Gillian from a safe distance as she turned right and headed up Munster Road. He wondered where she was going as, in his time, almost everybody shopped online. It was only technophobes like himself who went to brick and mortar shops to buy things and those shops were few in number.

  After a few minutes, she arrived at a Tesco Express convenience store and went in.

  Ari stood on the opposite side of the road for a few moments, taking in the scene. An elderly man with rust-brown coloured trousers and a blue anorak dismounted from some kind of small four-wheeled electric vehicle. Ari thought he may have seen one before in a museum but wasn’t certain. The man shuffled into the shop and Ari crossed the road. He was amused by the 24-hour cash withdrawal machine – nobody used cash in 2073 – and moved to his left to read the COVID safety notices, one of which said that it was mandatory to wear a face-covering in-store. He congratulated himself on having had the presence of mind to bring face masks with him to 2020.

  Upon entering, Ari was immediately so distracted by the interior of the store that he almost forgot why he was there. There were row upon row of diverse products, far more variety than Ari was used to. There were dairy products, tinned fruit and vegetables, frozen meats and vegetables, fresh meat, fresh vegetables, fresh fruit, drinks, health and beauty products, and household goods. The stores in 2073 had similar product lines but this store had such variety within the product lines. He’d never seen anything like it.

  He spotted Gillian walking over to a shelf containing dozens of cereal boxes and took up a position alongside her, marvelling at the assortment of cereals on show. There were Cheerios, Shreddies, Weetabix, Rice Krispies, Coco Pops, and Cornflakes. He had no idea what was inside the boxes but the packaging was so colourful that surely the contents must taste good. He shook himself out of his wonderment.

  “You should isolate yourself, Gillian. You should stay at home for the next three days at least.”

  Gillian turned to the young man beside her.

  “Sorry, are you talking to me?”

  Ari repeated his warning, leaning on advice he remembered from the pandemic of 2064.

  “Stay at home. Do not go out for at least three days.”

  “Look, I don’t know who you are but I’m an essential worker. I have to go out. Not that it’s any of your business anyway.”

  “If you do not, you will die.”

  That was it. Anthony could buy the cereal later on. She had to get out of the store, away from this crazy person.

  At the same time as Ari and Gillian had arrived at the Tesco Express, a fair-haired woman wearing faded denim jeans and a loose-fitting light grey sweater with a deep peach coloured horizontal band woven into the fabric had been leaning against the façade of the AG nail bar and beauty salon on the corner of Munster Road and Bronsart Road. She noticed the man with neither short nor particularly long dark slightly unke
mpt hair, watching the Tesco Express Store but didn’t give him much more than a moment’s attention. In return, the man paid her no attention either.

  The elderly man with rust-brown coloured trousers and a blue anorak dismounted from his mobility scooter and entered the store. The man who had been watching the store from across the road crossed the street and followed the elderly man in, pausing for a moment or two to look at the posters in the shop window.

  The woman crossed the street and passed through the open doors, taking up a position behind Gillian and Ari.

  As Gillian went to rush away from the cereal shelves, she collided with the woman who had been approaching her from behind. She offered a brief apology and strode out of the store, rubbing her neck where she’d just felt a stabbing pain.

  Gillian would be dead within three days.

  11:30, Saturday 25 March 2073

  Aristotle’s home, Ealing, London W5

  Back in the comfort of his front room, surrounded by his familiar Victoriana, Ari was again dressed in his familiar steampunk clothes. He hadn’t enjoyed wearing “normal” clothes and felt the stress within him subside with each item of Victorian clothing he put on. It was only when he placed his top hat on his head that he finally felt completely calm.