The Dark Restarter

by Sean McMahon

  ‘Why haven’t we Restarted?’ hollered Kara with an understandable frown.

  ‘To be fair, looks like the universe is trying,’ shouted Hal, marvelling as his body phased between a blue tinged opacity and an electrically charged transparency, then back again.

  ‘Seems like an odd time for time to get performance anxiety, don’t ya think?’

  ‘What?!’ screamed Hal, the wind drowning out the back end of Kara’s sentence.

  The incessant gusts made way for a belligerent thwomping sound, like that of a projectile leaving the tube of a grenade launcher, minus – so far at least – the ensuing explosion.

  Instead, the rushing air was sucked from the room and replaced with an eerie silence, and the three of them felt a tingling sensation across their skin, as an intense static charge washed over them.

  ‘Oh man, you feel that?’ said Kara, her ears now ringing thanks to the unexpected quietness.

  ‘I’ve got chills,’ said Hal, pulling up the sleeve of his jacket and seeing the hairs on his arm standing to attention, before quickly shooting a look at Kara as if to warn her not to go there.

  ‘They’re electrif–’

  ‘Come on man,’ his tone one of reprimand. ‘You’re better than that. Mind you, your hair is losing control!’

  Kara raised a hand to her usually neck-length hair, gingerly tapping the rogue strands that were all standing to attention, as if an invisible prankster had rubbed a balloon against her head, dangling it above her.

  The three of them turned as one to face the staircase, as footsteps filled the quietude, the dimness of the hour working in tandem with the thin streak of moonlight cascading from the small window of the basement to reveal an outline of what appeared to be a young woman.

  The impossible girl stopped in her tracks, having reached the halfway point of the rickety staircase, before speaking to the empty room.

  Her voice rang out, feeling remarkably amplified, thanks to both the acoustics and the apprehension they were all feeling due to the unexpected guest, the latter of which having forced them into forgetting to breath since catching sight of her.

  ‘Pssst, you three dead? I’m sorry, that was insensitive. I meant, like…Restarted…or whatever? Hang on…’ the visitor raised a hand just below her right temple, causing two bright blue discs to appear at her own eye level, partially lighting her cheeks to reveal a purplish-hued leather jacket, long hair draping over the top of the lapels. ‘That’s better!’

  The girl continued her decent of the staircase, jumping the final few steps, and twirled around the three of them, making her way to the counter where Malcom’s bag of murder paraphernalia rested, and reached towards the pouch that housed the syringes of what both Hal and Kara referred to as Malcolm’s “Death Juice.”

  She held one up to the light, the green liquid within glistening thanks to the blue light radiating from her glasses, as she flicked the glass tubing with her free hand.

  ‘They always do that, don’t they?’ said the girl with a devilish smile. ‘Flick the vial, then depress the plunger to release a droplet of whatever they’re about to inject?’

  The time travellers stared at her, not sure if she was talking to them or, more likely, just utterly insane.

  ‘I always wondered why they do that in the old movies, but now I know,’ said the young woman, pressing the plunger and reducing the quantity of green liquid until only half remained. ‘It’s when they need to reduce the amount inside. How dope is that? The more you know.’

  ‘Rachel?’ said Hal, the poor lighting and the glasses being sported by the stranger making it hard to be certain, but the similarity was uncanny.

  ‘I get that a lot,’ said the girl with a chuckle.

  Future Malcolm and the Restarters stared in utter bewilderment as she walked towards the barely-alive version of Malcolm on the floor they had just revived, spinning the syringe in her hand so the needle was pointing downwards, before jabbing it into Malcolm’s leg.

  It pierced through the fabric of his trousers as well as his flesh rather effortlessly, as she emptied the contents into his bloodstream with a happy hum.

  ‘Bosh,’ said the woman, disregarding the now empty relic over her shoulder, where it collided with the wall, the small tinkle of broken glass raising a satisfied smile beneath her blue-hued cheeks. ‘That should keep him out of our hair for a while. Oh man…I can see you need some time to process. I’m totally spooking you. Dammit,’ the young woman added, as if chastising herself for ruining their first impressions of her. ‘Come on up when you’re ready!’

  And without further explanation, she balled her fists, stuffing them into her jacket pockets and twirled her way back to the stairs.

  Pulling her hand from her left pocket, she yanked at the rickety old bannister rail, using it to boost her ascent, leaving the three of them unequivocally slack-jawed.

  Unseen by all of them, a small piece of paper fluttered back down the staircase under cover of darkness, landing lazily on the dusty floor.

  Hal was the first to broach the question on the tip of all their temporally-displaced tongues.

  ‘Who the hell was that?’

  ‘Was she talking to us?’ said Malcolm.

  ‘Well, Kevin’s unconscious in the room behind you, your time echo is dust and your alive self can barely breathe,’ said Kara.

  ‘Probably brain-dead too,’ said Hal helpfully.

  Malcolm scowled.

  ‘What? I said probably?’ joked Hal, trying to resist a chuckle.

  Malcolm stole a glance at his unconscious body, as if mulling over whether a lifetime of coma-induced survival was really something he could live with, before nodding solemnly.

  Kara was up on her feet, making her way to the staircase.

  ‘Kara, wait! None of this makes any sense. We have no way of knowing who she is or what she wants!’

  ‘Or how she can see us,’ added Malcolm.

  ‘Only one way to find out.’

  Seeing no other course of action and eager to get out of the tomb that was starting to feel a little bit too much like a home away from home, Kara headed up after the strange visitor, leaving Hal with no other option than to follow.

  *

  As the three of them reached the front door of Kevin’s home, they were greeted by the intense glare of several xenon-bulb spotlights.

  ‘We have company,’ said Hal, apparently determined to state the obvious.

  ‘Thanks detective,’ said Kara, shooting a classic glance of dismay upwards into the infinite void of superfluity.

  Malcolm stood behind them in the doorway, his instincts telling him he should slip out the back door, before realising how pointless that would be. Not least of which because there was nowhere for him to run to.

  Hal and Kara both went to exit the cabin at the same time, getting caught in the doorway.

  ‘Oh, sorry, you go first.’

  ‘I’m trying, move backwards I can’t get past.’

  ‘My bad,’ said Hal, pulling himself out of the doorway causing Kara to stumble out.

  She glared at Hal for embarrassing her in front of the two silhouettes that were standing in front of the spotlights.

  ‘Two of ’em now,’ said Hal.

  ‘Will you stop narrating what we can all see?’ chirped Kara snippily out of the corner of her mouth.

  Hal took up position by Kara’s side on the path, with Malcolm gingerly bringing up the rear, maintaining a metre or so distance behind them.

  ‘This. Is. Insane!’ said the young woman, all her attempts of restraint bubbling over like a cauldron as she bridged the gap between them with barely contained excitement. As she came into focus, Hal realised the jacket she was wearing was actually bright red, as opposed to the purple he thought he had seen. ‘I can’t believe I’m finally here, meeting you guys. For cereal. Gosh. The OG Restarters.’

  ‘Oh Gee?’ said Kara, realising that the similarity she shared with Rachel really was quite striking.

&n
bsp; ‘Original Generation!’ said Ava, squealing a little bit too much.

  ‘Stop fan-girling Ava, you’re embarrassing yourself,’ said the man to her right, absently staring at a tablet and tapping on the screen in-between scrutinising whatever it was he was reading.

  ‘Don’t you dare ruin this for me, Ross,’ hissed the young woman they now knew to be called Ava, ditching her chirpy enthusiasm and replacing it with unbridled resentment towards her colleague.

  Ross yawned, flapping his free hand dismissively as if signalling her to get on with it.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Ava, composing herself and unnecessarily straightening the bottom of her red biker jacket. ‘Ignore him. This is a huge day for me. It’s kind of my first day in the field and I’ve studied everything about you and now I’m finally here and you’re here and–’

  ‘Who are you people?’ said Kara, fearing that if she didn’t interject, ten restarts might roll by before she could get a word in edgeways.

  Hal couldn’t keep it in any longer, his foggy memories from a future that had all but been obliterated coming back to the forefront of his mind. ‘I know you! You were at the coffee shop. In the future. Your hair was purple though…’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Ava thoughtfully, seemingly trying to recollect exactly when he was referring to. ‘Yes! Sorry, that was like…six months ago. When I placed the goober under the table at the coffee shop! Gotta have a stakeout disguise, amiright?’

  ‘Goober?’ said Hal, only now recalling the device that had clattered to the floor after the table was atomised. It felt like forever ago.

  ‘You think it was an accident you were able to bring all that sick swag with you in that backpack of yours?’ replied Ava, notably amused. ‘And those fancy duds you’re both wearing?’

  ‘I really like her,’ Hal whispered.

  ‘Figures,’ Kara muttered back.

  ‘I switched it up,’ Ava’s focus returning to that of her hair colour and running her hand roughly through it as if scratching an itch. ‘Ross said it looked lame.’

  Ross continued to ignore them, tapping away on his tablet.

  ‘Are you kidding? It looked great,’ said Hal.

  ‘Really?’ Kara crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing.

  ‘What?’ said Hal defensively. ‘It did.’

  ‘You’re doing this now? Hitting on a complete stranger?’

  ‘I’m not hitting on anyone! I just said her hair looked nice!’

  ‘Ha! Mum would love this right now,’ said Ava. ‘Right. Of course, introductions!’ as Kara sized her up; she appeared to be in her early twenties, her hair long and black as the night. She wore it just like Rachel did, only a little more wildly. As if styling was an afterthought. ‘I think it best the head poncho–’

  ‘You mean honcho?’ said Hal. ‘It’s head honcho, not poncho.’

  ‘I know! That was a reference! Ya know, to uncle Robert? How he always gets his metaphors in a tizz? Classic Rob.’ Ava wobbled her head slightly, her eyes scattily looking up to the sky as if they were all sharing the same in-joke.

  ‘You know Rob – wait, did you say uncle?’ Kara was beginning to feel both irritated that she herself was derailing the path to the answers that mattered, her confusion on how this Rachel lookalike could know Robert throwing her off.

  ‘Of course!’ said Ava. ‘When he tricked Dark-Restarter-Malcolm with the old “I’m actually a Restarter too” routine? Gah. That was so badass. I was all like–’

  ‘Ava,’ said Kara in restrained frustration. ‘You said there’s a boss or something?’

  ‘Right,’ said Ava, wincing. ‘We knew this would be a lot to take in. Which is why we thought it best to bring the big guns.’ She raised a hand to her ear and spoke quietly. ‘It's time, boss.’

  A third silhouette of a man appeared from the woodland behind Ross and Ava, two electric-blue discs lighting up around the space where his eyes should have been as he switched on his glasses.

  ‘Sort of milking the entrances, don’t you think?’ Hal whispered to Kara, who was already nodding.

  As the man walked into the light, Hal noticed he was in his late fifties, dressed in a suit and a dark-yet-vibrant blue three-quarter-length coat. He reached up to his white shirt and adjusted his blue tie as he made his way towards them, clearing his throat in that way people tended to when it was their turn to take the microphone for the next round of karaoke; nervous and not nearly drunk enough for what was coming, feeling one extra rehearsal short of ready for what would follow.

  ‘Yes,’ said the smartly dressed man. ‘It is about time.’

  ‘No...’ said Hal, recognising the man immediately.

  A man who looked considerably more weathered since the last time Hal had seen him.

  But no amount of ageing – nor a pair of futuristic specs – could hide that all-too-familiar hint of a rebellious smile.

  And that voice…He knew that voice.

  ‘Remarkable,’ said Malcolm.

  ‘How?’ spluttered Kara.

  ‘Dad?’ said Hal.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

  “R” is for Restarter

  204th Restart – Saturday, August 25th, 2018, 9:16pm

  Kara scrunched up her nose for a moment, then frowned in confusion at Hal.

  ‘I've met your dad, Hal. That's not him. Actually, he looks way more like...’

  ‘Oh,’ chuckled Hal. ‘I know, it just felt like a cliff-hanger ending kinda moment, ya know?

  ‘For who?! What are you even talking about?’ said Kara, utterly confused.

  Hal shrugged.

  The man Ava had referred to as Ross looked up from his tablet, clearly disinterested by their banter, and reaffirmed his focus on reading the complex data that was streaming across the screen.

  The older man before them exhaled sharply, before addressing them.

  ‘I forgot how irritating I used to be,’ he said. ‘As Kara has so acutely deducted, I am not your father. I am you.’

  Before the words even left the man in the blue coat’s mouth, Kara, Hal and even Malcolm knew it to be true. There was no subterfuge, no subtext, no games being played. Merely a universal truth that held no other purpose than to be heard and accepted.

  ‘Damn,’ said Hal, feeling like it was his responsibility to break the silence given that it had technically been a future version of himself that had caused it to begin with. ‘How are you resisting dropping the mic right now? It must be killing you? Me. Us.’

  Hal’s future-self stepped closer to them with the gait of a man that was more than accustomed to holding a room’s attention. ‘I’m sure you have a lot of questions. Not least of which, how you're even still here at all – talking to me – instead of being vaporized back in that basement.’

  ‘I feel weird,’ said Kara, unable to bear the uncomfortable sensation that was wracking her body any longer. ‘Like my whole body is vibrating.’

  ‘That’ll be the TDA’s we’ve set up around the cabin,’ said Ross, his words laced with a very acute level of boredom, one that could only stem from countless years working in tech support. He might as well have asked them to try turning it off and on again for all the explanation it gave, the personality he had inflected in his tone of equal fervour to that of a fork.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Hal. ‘I’m still sort of getting my head around how I’m speaking with a version of myself from the future, let alone trying to backwards engineer acronyms. What’s a TDA?’

  Ross began to answer, before being rudely cut off by an over-excited Ava.

  ‘Time Dilation Amplifiers!’ she blurted, at a tempo just short of light speed.

  Her colleague scowled at her, then sighed deeply, as if he were more than used to his thunder being stolen, before taking back the reins of the conversation.

  ‘We’re currently generating a stasis bubble around us to stop you from returning to whatever botched future you’ve just created here. That tingling you’re feeling? That’s your bodies trying to restart.’

 
; ‘Which, by my count,’ said Future Hal, ‘should have happened no less than twice; once when Malcolm here killed a past incarnation of himself, ultimately breaking the continuity of his own timeline…’

  ‘And then again when you restarted his heart,’ said Ava helpfully. ‘Heh…restarted. That’s funny.’

  ‘Yes. That,’ said Future Hal. ‘In truth, time is actively trying to reintegrate you both back into the present. All we’re doing is…slowing down the process.’

  ‘Surrrre…’ said Kara, not really understanding how any of this equated to making any sense. She had so many questions, but decided to start small. ‘How are you all even here? Are you Restarting right now?’

  ‘God no!’ said Ava, visibly abashed by the implications of such a theory. ‘We’re committed to the cause, but not to the point where we’d kill ourselves just to speak to you.’

  ‘Plus,’ said Malcolm, ‘we saw her pick up an object in the physical world,’ referring to the syringe, the contents of which they had seen Ava inject into Malcolm’s physical body, which Hal and Kara presumed was now dead in Kevin’s basement thanks to the administering of what was surely a Death Juice overdose.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Hal. ‘What was that all about?’