by Sean McMahon
As Fearne began her own re-materialisation process, they pulled away from each other, the shared moment brought to an end.
‘Where the hell were you guys?’ said Hal, switching to a notably more accusatory fluster.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Fearne. ‘We ran as fast as we–’
‘What the hell happened?’ said Kara, cutting Fearne off, showing no desire to hear her excuses. ‘We were waiting on you! We nearly lost everything!’
‘It was Malcolm! He kept stopping, saying he was having memory…episodes! There’s something I need to tell you,’ she added.
‘Bench?’ suggested Kara.
‘Hell yes, bench,’ said Hal, confirming that the motion had been carried to adjourn to their make shift war room.
‘It’s about Malcolm,’ said Fearne, taking a seat next to them. ‘Future Malcolm.’
But having spoken of the devil, the devil himself appeared beside them.
‘Since when can you get here so quickly?’ asked Kara, eyeing him suspiciously for making a journey that had always taken him longer than it took for them to reach their bench.
‘I’m so glad you’re safe,’ replied Malcolm, his words sounding oddly authentic.
‘You okay?’
‘I will be, Harold.’
Fearne bristled.
‘Are you kidding me right now? He’s the reason it took us so long!’
‘Fearne,’ said Malcolm. ‘Perhaps now isn’t the time to go into–’
‘Oh, it bloody well is the time!’ she barked, standing up from the bench and stomping towards him, poking him directly in the chest, before spinning on her heels and facing her so-called friends. ‘Malcolm’s been lying to you. To all of us. Those memories of his aren’t just appearing now, he’s had them all along.’
‘I figured,’ said Hal.
‘And another thing,’ began Fearne, having clearly been rehearsing this speech. ‘…wait, what?’
‘Well, time travel doesn’t work like that. What’s happening here had to have happened the first time around, for Malcolm at least. It would be a temporal impossibility for his past-self to go off track from his fixed timeline, regardless of Future Malcolm here being in-phase with him.’
‘Temporal,’ said Fearne pinching the bridge of her nose and clenching her eyes shut in frustration. ‘Phase,’ she hissed, repeating Hal’s words.
‘I’m sorry you lost Peter again,’ said Malcolm, directing his words to Hal and Kara, who stared back at him slack-jawed.
‘What?!’ said Fearne, opening her eyes in outrage. ‘What does he mean, again?!’
‘I, erm…’ began Hal.
‘Peter came back,’ said Kara. ‘It was only for a second, but…’
‘And you didn’t think to start with that?’ her eyes both hurt and angry in equal measure. ‘Then let’s go get him!’
‘It…I don’t think it’s going to work like that,’ said Hal.
‘And why not?!’
She should have known there would be another excuse. Another patented Restarter reason for them not to search for Peter just because it didn’t fit in with whatever Hal and Kara felt was important that day. ‘Let me guess, is the phase not temporal enough?’ she said viciously.
‘That’s…not even a sentence, Fearne.’
The rage circled her like an almost perceptible heat-vapour, Hal’s response seemingly lacking in even the faintest sign of empathy, as if she had just been told publicly that she’d been caught using “your” instead of “you’re” in a social media post.
Fearne turned away from the three of them, picking a direction at random and hoping to put as much distance between her and the lot of them as she could.
‘Fearne,’ said Kara, ‘don’t leave. Who knows where Evil Malcolm is right now, it’s too dangero–’
Fearne stopped, not wanting to face them, instead talking to the forest in front of her.
‘Evil Malcolm,’ she said, her words only slightly louder than a whisper, ‘is standing less than a metre away from you. You’re just too blind to see it.’
‘Fearne, we’re sorry for not telling you about Peter,’ said Hal. ‘I just thought it would…there was nothing we could do.’
‘It’s funny how there’s nothing you can do when it isn’t about you or Kara.’
‘Fearne, that’s not fair,’ said Kara.
‘I just…I need some space,’ said Fearne despondently, walking away from Fir Lodge.
Away from them.
‘I should be going too,’ said Malcolm.
‘What are you talking about,’ said Kara. ‘You got a haircut appointment you didn’t tell us about?’
‘Clever,’ said Malcolm. ‘No, I thought perhaps it prudent to glimpse the present again? See what damage my past self has caused, if any.’
‘You must be joking?’ said Kara. ‘And disappear for another three weeks? That’s what caused this all in the first place!’
‘I have a theory I may be able to simply transport myself to your home, cutting the journey from the equation.’
‘How does that even remotely make sense?’
‘Temporal phasing,’ joked Malcolm.
‘Seriously Malc, feel the room,’ replied Hal.
‘Whatever,’ said Kara, honestly feeling like having some time to speak with Hal alone wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.
‘Try not to die whilst I am gone,’ Malcolm chided.
Before either Restarter could respond, a sharp cracking noise filled the air, and he vanished.
‘You think he’s really going where he says he is?’
‘Who cares,’ said Kara. ‘We need to talk anyways.’
‘About what?’ said Hal, realising he was standing following Fearne’s outburst, and returning to his seat.
‘Malcolm’s past-self is out of control. I think we may need to prepare ourselves for the ugly truth here.’
He knew Kara was referring to the elephant in the room.
‘More like a brachiosaurus,’ mumbled Hal.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. You mean killing Malcolm’s Dark Restarter self. Like he did to Peter.’
It wasn’t a question.
‘I think it’s the only way,’ a battle-weary look spreading across her face.
‘We’re not ready,’ said Hal, thinking back to the massacre they had just witnessed at Fir Lodge. ‘Even at Full Blue, Malcolm managed to take on Peter, Me, You, Rachel, Will, Alex…hell, even Jon without breaking a sweat.’
‘Full Blue?’ said Kara, remembering the utterance of the term which had fallen from the lips of a very different Hal.
‘You know, like fully charged Restarter? Full Blue.’
‘Oh! I like that,’ she smiled, finally in possession of a fragment to a larger puzzle that was far from solved. It was the little things.
‘I’m sure you can convince everyone you came up with it,’ he said, shooting her a kind-hearted smile.
Kara paused, a sudden obligation washing over her. She wanted to tell him all about the encounter by the lakes, but was hindered by her promise. It seemed important to the Hal from their future, and that should have been good enough for her. And yet…
‘I really thought I’d lost you,’ she said, more than a hint of a glisten in her eyes
‘You said that already,’ Hal replied playfully, his smile full of warmth and his tone equally heartfelt.
‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ said Kara, leaning in close enough for him to feel her breath on his cheek.
‘What,’ Hal’s voice uncharacteristically croaky enough to warrant him clearing his throat and taking another stab at it. ‘What’s up?’
Kara looked over Hal’s shoulder, watching as his past-self moved closer, seconds away from claiming the bench they were sitting on.
‘If you ever die on me again, I’ll kill you, understand?’ she whispered, before leaning away from him and punching him hard in the arm, causing a savage spark to erupt.
‘Oww, dick! Did yo
u intentionally drag that out just so my past-self was closer to me to make the feedback bigger?’ said Hal, rubbing the affected area.
‘Obviously! Now come on zombie boy, we need to find Fearne.’
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Five Little Words
203rd Restart – Friday, August 24th, 2018, 12:17pm
'You’re a long way from Fir Lodge,’ said the Malcolm of Fearne’s future, having materialised directly in front of her and blocking her path.
‘You seem to be able to move around far easier than you let on,’ she replied, highlighting yet another one of the innumerable inconsistencies to the half-truths he had fed them.
‘Yes, I have rather undersold it, haven’t I…’
‘Whatever. Get out of my way,’ said Fearne, changing direction and attempting to walk around him.
He phased immediately, now several meters closer to her and blocking her new course.
She faltered, unconsciously taking a step back.
‘I came here to tell you something,’ said Malcolm. ‘Something I’ve never told anyone.’
‘Let me guess, you’re a huge fan of Grey’s Anatomy?’
Malcolm recoiled, then chuckled, his hands clasped behind his back in a show of aloofness, bridging the gap between them with slow, incremental steps.
‘Whilst that program does grow on you, no…that’s not what I wished to tell you. You know, when I returned here, after the hospital that is, I genuinely had no idea how to get you all on board. I had the memories from the past, of course. But no playbook on how to actually implement them.’
Fearne rolled her eyes as if she couldn’t be more bored, but nonetheless matched every step he took to ensure she maintained her distance.
‘But through it all, I had one glimmer of hope. A single thought to work towards. I made that the focal point to everything we’ve been through together thus far.’
‘And what was that?’ she whispered, her senses flaring, seeing a look in Malcolm’s posture that was dripping with historic familiarity. They were circling each other now.
Or rather, he was circling her. Like a vulture.
‘You, of course!’ as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘You’re the key to everything!’
‘Is that why you killed Peter? Was that part of…whatever this is?’
He sighed in frustration. ‘How many times do I have to tell you? That wasn’t me!’
‘Semantics.’
‘Facts,’ said Malcolm.
‘Bullshit,’ she countered with finality.
‘I realise now that it’s time to tell you what no one else can know. A vision of the future that, until now, I haven’t shared with anyone. Are you ready to know what that is?’
‘Not really,’ lied Fearne, forgetting to take a step backwards to counteract his movements.
‘Fearne, how many times have we gone around in this circle? Flitting around through time, always hitting the same brick wall. I’m offering you what you’ve wanted. The key to bringing Peter back.’
‘There is no bringing Peter back,’ replied Fearne sourly, at least remembering to keep moving despite the crack in her voice betraying the hope which was quickly squashing the more logical compartments of her mind.
‘But he did come back. You heard the others. I’m not asking you to trust me, I’m just asking you to listen in order to save the man you love! After that, you can make up your own mind.’
‘I knew it, he’s not dead is he! There’s a way! To make things right?!’ she said, ceasing the dance they were engaging in and coming to a full stop.
‘There is a way to make everything right! To make up for the actions wrought by my monstrous past-self. But it comes with a price, to us all. Knowledge of the future always does.’
‘Whatever it is, I’ll pay it,’ said Fearne.
‘I know you will,’ his smile far warmer than it had ever been, so powerful in its sincerity that Fearne experienced involuntary empathy. ‘You did before. The last time I gave you this choice.’
‘How do we save him?’ said Fearne, allowing Malcolm to get closer, ignoring the oddness of his words.
Too close.
He took another step towards her, legs apart, allowing his shoulders to slump down. Due to his shift in posture it felt like she was truly seeing him for the first time; not The Boogey Man. Just…a man. Trying to get home, just like her.
Vulnerable, almost.
‘We need to work together to attain victory. I know I’ve given you nothing but justifiable reasons to doubt me, but I haven’t just seen the future Fearne…I am the future. There is no better weapon at your disposal than me.’
‘Tell me what to do,’ she said, her eyes filling with determination, desperate for the emptiness within her to be once again filled by the laughter of her soulmate.
‘Nothing,’ said Malcolm.
Her eyes widened as he leant closer to her and whispered into her left ear. The revelation he had kept from them all finally dawning on her. She understood now why he had kept these words to himself for so long. Hearing them answered everything.
She replayed the five little words over in her head. A single sentence from the future that held the key to their escape.
‘You see now,’ he said, ‘why I couldn’t tell the others? They wouldn’t understand.’
‘I…s-see,’ she stammered, looking down at the dust covered ground, droplets of crimson dripping onto it and resting on top of the dirt, unable to blend with it, the fluid as out-of-phase as the rest of her body.
Malcolm smiled sadly, retracting the blade gently from her torso, lowering the hilt slightly so the serrated edge didn’t catch unnecessarily on her flesh, catching her limp body to prevent it from hitting the ground.
Her vision became blurry. A symptom, she assumed, of being erased permanently from existence. Fearne took comfort in the fact that the pain was minimal; akin to a sharp sting that slowly waned in intensity.
She smiled, feeling grateful that perhaps Peter had felt the same lack of pain, as the words Malcolm had whispered to her echoed in her mind.
“You were right about me.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
The Man in the Mirror
203rd Restart – Friday, August 24th, 2018, 12:48pm
The Dark Restarter felt the presence of his guest the same way he always did; an unnatural stillness overpowering the air, followed by an electromagnetic wave that besieged the hairs on his body, causing them to prickle and rise, as if magnetised towards the duplicated abomination.
Despite knowing his visitor was from the future (or rather, a potential variant from an as yet uncemented timeline) Malcolm considered himself to be the one true Malcolm.
This pretender was little more than a child born of cause and effect, one that could be erased and usurped by him with little more than a small adjustment to future decisions.
And yet, as much as Malcolm hated to admit it, this futuristic facsimile did hold some power over him.
Power in the form of knowledge over what was yet to come.
The Dark Restarter fought admirably against the need to fall to his knees as the man drew closer to him, gripping onto the edge of the table with his back to the door of their new Kill Room. Or, as the younger Malcolm preferred to call it, “canvas table.”
‘As promised,’ said Future Malcolm, carrying a near-lifeless Fearne in his arms, her blood having covered a large portion of his black apron.
Future Malcolm had grown to hate these visits. His younger self had become incredibly unhinged throughout his time here. To the point he almost didn’t recognise himself. Though, if he was brutally honest, it would have been disingenuous to insinuate he himself had changed all that much.
The younger Malcolm turned to face his senior, regretting doing so immediately, experiencing an intense misalignment in the way reality was interpreted by his mind.
‘You need a second?’ said Future Malcolm, feeling the residual echo of his own words before he heard
them.
‘You need a second,’ spluttered Malcolm’s past-self, desperately trying to regain control of his body. ‘I’m fine,’ he snapped, hating his involuntary display of weakness, despite it being unavoidable.
Both Malcolm’s had learnt that this was the price of conversing with other iterations of your own self when travelling through time.
Whereas a conversation between two separate minds always led to unique interactions that could not be predicted, when conversing with an identical mind, the variables became…corrupted.
A feedback loop, that was generated when a person had already experienced the response to a question they themselves had yet to ask for the first time, and would one day be forced to participate in again from a paradoxically impossible perspective.
It appeared to be a universal constant that Malcolm was powerless to alter the flow of quantum-entangled thoughts in any meaningful way. And so it was that The Dark Restarter found himself feeling the intense temporal dysplasia brought on by attempting to do just that; conversing with a version of himself from his own potential future.
Both men took a breath and exhaled slowly, the simultaneous act not helping matters.
‘I must admit,’ The Dark Restarter recalled, struggling to fight through the relentless nausea, ‘when you appeared before me with the golfer and actress it was incredibly challenging to pretend as though I could not see the three of you.’
‘You sold it well,’ said Future Malcolm calmly.
‘I was sceptical when you told me they would accept your invisibility bubble routine so willingly,’ said Malcolm’s past-self, and they shared a gruff chuckle together, which to the outside world would have sounded like gravel being churned in a cement mixer, only in surround-sound.
‘They would do anything to defeat the great, Dark Restarter,’ said Future Malcolm with false theatrics.
‘Dark Restarter?’ said past-Malcolm, hearing the term for the first time and trying to decide if the misnomer met his fancy.
‘That’s what they’re calling us these days.’
