Reversion (The Narrows of Time Series Book 3)

by Jay J. Falconer

  Lucas put the glasses over his eyes. Its interface booted instantly as the suit’s nano-pathways synced wirelessly to the headgear. He panned the lab, watching a horde of analytical data flicker and light up the virtual heads-up display. The metrics about the objects and people in the room appeared above each item and looked to be correct, as did the environmental data.

  He swallowed hard, knowing it was time for the ultimate test. The test that would determine not only his fate, but the fate of the multiverse. Everything he’d hoped to achieve with this visit to Earth of the past would now come down to the next set of words he’d utter. He closed his eyes and took two deep breaths to calm his nerves, then cleared his throat and spoke into the device using a slow, purposeful voice.

  “This is Dr. Lucas Ramsay, calling from Earth. Can anyone read me? . . . Earth Outpost Eutopia-3. This is Dr. Lucas Ramsay. Is anyone there?”

  Kleezebee, Griffith, and Masago stared at him in silence, each leaning forward, turning an ear toward him.

  Lucas dropped his gaze to the floor. A handful of moments later the Google Glasses crackled with static before someone’s answer came through the device.

  “It’s damn good to hear your voice. We were growing concerned!”

  Lucas recognized the person, making his heartbeat take off. “No need to worry, Professor. Just a few technical glitches, but we’ve been able to solve them.”

  “We?”

  Lucas hesitated to formulate his response. “Well, I wasn’t able to stay off the radar like we’d hoped. Ran into some issues along the way—some major, unexpected issues. Had to enlist the help of a new friend and a couple of old ones. But if it weren’t for them, we wouldn’t be talking right now.”

  “Who, exactly?”

  “Has the video link synced?”

  “Fuji’s working on it, hang on . . .” future Kleezebee said.

  Lucas waited, aiming his gaze at Griffith’s worktable and equipment.

  “Okay, the feed is coming through now. Looks like you’re in the science lab. Am I correct?”

  “Yep, but that’s not all,” Lucas said in a sly tone, panning the room until the others came into view. “Recognize anyone?”

  “Absolutely! So, who’s the girl?” Kleezebee asked.

  “My new friend. She rescued me after General Alvarez took out most of my copies on the top of that mountain.”

  “I see.”

  “Wait, there’s more. You’re gonna love this. Her last name just so happens to be Fuji. Masago Fuji, to be exact.”

  Lucas expected a response, but heard only static. He waited a bit longer; still no answer.

  “You still there, Professor?”

  “Yes, I’m here. We’re in discussion. Stand by.”

  Masago tugged on his arm. “Can I talk to Master Fuji? I’d really like to meet my descendent.”

  Lucas shook his head. “That’s not a good idea. Besides, even if I wanted to, I’m the only person who can operate this link. It’s been tuned precisely for my biochemistry.”

  “That figures,” she said, with disdain dripping from her words.

  “Don’t be upset. He knows you’re here and what you look like. That’s probably enough for now. Any more is just asking for trouble. We need to keep further corruption down to a minimum. Of course, that’s assuming there’s still any of the original timeline left to corrupt. But it stills feels like the proper thing to do.”

  “He’s right,” Griffith added.

  Local Kleezebee joined in. “I concur. In fact, the three of us should vacate the room and let you speak in private.”

  Future Kleezebee’s voice came across the link. “We’ve discussed the matter and think it’s wise for you to move to a more private location before we continue this discussion.”

  “Already on it, boss,” Lucas told him, swinging his head around to watch Griffith escort Masago by the arm to the lab door, with current Kleezebee right on their heels. The three of them went outside and the door closed.

  Lucas turned his attention to the static crackling across the link, waiting for one of his friends from on Eutopia-3 to speak up.

  Kleezebee did. “Give me a quick recap.”

  “Let’s see . . . minutes after I arrived, Alvarez opened fire with three armed-to-the-teeth Apaches, killing most of my copies. I think he knew we were coming. How? I don’t know. Luckily, some of the Lucas copies got away, including me, but I was injured. Masago found me and nursed me back to health in her private bunker. The Smart Skin Suit and the glasses were damaged in the process. Once I was well enough to travel, she and I made the trek across the desert to bring them here to you—the you in this time—and you decided to bring Griffith in to help.”

  “Status of the experiment?”

  “Unknown. Thus far, I’ve avoided contact with my former self, focusing mainly on getting the link operational.”

  “It sounds like you’ve made the proper decisions, given the circumstances.”

  “Thanks, Professor. However, I need to tell you there have been a number of timeline changes. A few were noticeable immediately upon my arrival. I’m afraid something’s changed in the past. The past from here.”

  “A predestination paradox,” Fuji said in his soft, controlled voice.

  “Hey, Fuji. Good to hear your voice,” Lucas said.

  Fuji didn’t answer.

  “How severe are the changes?” Kleezebee asked in a more serious tone.

  “Some of them major. Not sure what to do. That’s why I’m contacting you.”

  “The fact that you were able to reestablish the link, and we’re still here, means the contamination hasn’t affected critical aspects of the timeline. But that could change.”

  “I agree. We might only get one more shot at this. I was thinking Fuji should send me back a few days before I arrived. If I’m right, the other copies won’t be pulled here with me, and the general won’t have anything to shoot at. It might even help unwind some of the localized corruption we’re starting to see.”

  “Or, make it worse. Right now, the facts indicate that enough of the timeline remains intact in order to achieve success. However, that might not be the case if we attempt a near-point reincursion. We might cause additional crossover ripples, compounding the paradox exponentially. No, we need to run the numbers and plan this carefully. The last thing we need is to exacerbate the situation with carelessness.”

  Lucas didn’t like Kleezebee’s plan. It was going to require too much lead time before implementation. Time he didn’t think they had. “What about sending me much further back? Say a year or two. Get ahead of the bleed-back ripples and make our changes. What do you think, Fuji? Would that work?”

  “Quite possibly,” Fuji said.

  Lucas appreciated the monk’s semivote of confidence. “The question is, how far?”

  Before Fuji or Kleezebee could answer, the entire lab rumbled around him and Lucas fell to the ground. The glasses went flying from his face, bouncing to the corner.

  Thirty seconds later, the lab door flew open and Masago ran in. Griffith and local Kleezebee were right behind her.

  Masago looked to the ceiling. “Earthquake?”

  Lucas shook his head. “That was no Earthquake.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because the same thing happened the first time around, only it wasn’t supposed to start until later tonight. Though, I don’t remember it being so powerful.”

  “Explain,” Kleezebee demanded.

  “Across the hall, the other me and Drew just ran the experiment and sent the E-121 power module across dimensions and into the future. And, if events hold true, they did so at full power. But that would also mean NASA ran their version of the same test at the same time, and did so at a time different than before . . . so, then, the bleed-back ripples must have changed the timing of both, making sure they both were initiated at the same moment, just as before. What are the odds of that?”

  Kleezebee’s mouth fell open, but he didn�
��t respond.

  “Is that bad?” Masago asked.

  “Oh yeah, you could say that,” Lucas answered, turning his gaze to the professor. “The Krellians will detect the signal. Then it begins.”

  “What begins?” Griffith asked.

  “The invasion. The end of all we know. Powerful energy domes from another dimension will soon appear across the planet, destroying everything in their path. Then the Krellian Sentinels will come through a dimensional rift, kidnap my brother, and kill everyone who’s still alive.”

  “Oh my God! Why didn’t you tell me?” Masago asked.

  “I was hoping to stop all of this from happening. Again.”

  “Time finds a way,” Griffith said.

  Lucas was shocked that Griffith used the same words as Kleezebee did in the future. Maybe Griffith is the person who taught future Kleezebee the phrase. “Exactly, Grif. Couldn’t have put it better myself.”

  Masago stood motionless with her eyes transfixed on Lucas.

  “Now I understand,” Kleezebee said in a slow, solemn voice while staring at the floor with a glazed look in his eyes.

  “There has to be something we can do,” Masago said.

  Kleezebee hesitated, then said, “We need to send Lucas further back in time to attempt another correction.”

  Lucas walked to the corner and picked up the glasses. He put them on. “Yes. That’s what I was just discussing with the other you. The you from the future.”

  Before Lucas could continue, his vision blurred and images distorted. Objects around him began to elongate, with their edges fading in and out like a cloud was floating past. He staggered and Masago grabbed him by the arm, keeping him from hitting the deck.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Lucas saw a black, vertical distortion line appear in the corner of the lab. It began to move left. He pulled the glasses off, but the anomaly was still there and moving along the same path. “What the hell is that?”

  Griffith and Kleezebee turned in a flash, staring at the corner, then looked at each other.

  “Do you see anything?” Kleezebee asked Griffith.

  “No. Just the walls. You?”

  Kleezebee shook his head.

  The distortion passed through his friends, sending out a wave of pressure that smacked Lucas in the face. When it made contact, Lucas found that the glasses were back on his face even though he hadn’t put them there. He looked at his hand, wondering how the glasses had jumped from his fingers to his nose, but what he saw made him gasp. The middle finger on his right hand was missing above the second knuckle. “Holy shit!”

  Masago grabbed his arm again, though Lucas thought she was already holding onto it from before.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “My finger!”

  She looked down, but didn’t say anything.

  “It’s missing!”

  Masago tilted her head. “Yeah, I know.”

  He didn’t understand. Why wasn’t she shocked like he was?

  Another distortion wave crossed the lab, but this one moved slightly faster than the first. It passed over before Lucas could brace himself. The glasses were instantly back in his hand and Masago was now standing on the opposite side with her arms wrapped around his waist instead of his arm. Like bad continuity in a low-budget movie.

  Lucas held his hand up and found that his finger was now intact. “What the fuck?” He opened and closed his hand to check the status of his finger. It felt normal.

  A third wave of distortion rippled across the lab. Again, it was moving faster than the previous one. The glasses were back on his face and Masago was standing near Kleezebee, whose face was now without a beard—only a mustache. Lucas turned to look at Griffith, but the scientist wasn’t in the room. “Where’s Grif?”

  “Grif who?” Kleezebee asked.

  “Griffith, the man whose lab we’re in.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know anyone named Griffith,” Kleezebee said.

  The distortions continued, each faster than the previous. Each causing more and more changes. Objects and people came and went, some of them moved or changed in some fashion.

  Lucas waited for another ripple effect. Instead, a wave of dizziness roared in his head, making him stumble and drop to a knee. He shook his head and blinked, waiting for the speckles in his vision to clear. They did.

  Griffith ran to him. “Are you okay? What’s wrong.”

  “Did you feel that?” he asked, looking at Griffith and then at Kleezebee.

  Kleezebee shook his head. “Feel what?” The professor’s beard and clothes had returned to normal.

  “You look as white as a ghost,” Griffith said.

  Lucas scanned the room but didn’t see Masago. He looked at the lab door and back at Griffith. “Where’s Masago?”

  Kleezebee moved two steps closer, shooting Lucas a focused glare. “She should be still in the truck. Right where we left her.”

  “In the truck?” Lucas answered, feeling a cold numbness swirl around his body.

  “We agreed she should remain in the truck.”

  “No, we didn’t. That’s not what happened. She was right here. Not two seconds ago.”

  Kleezebee flared his eyebrows, but didn’t respond.

  Another ripple raced across the lab. Lucas closed his eyes and waited for the pressure to engulf him. It did. A moment later, someone touched his arm. He opened his eyes and turned his head, finding Masago standing there like nothing had happened.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  Lucas wrapped her in a hug. “Not exactly, but I’m getting there.”

  Another distortion passed, and Lucas found himself standing alone and outside on the grassy mall. The warmth of the afternoon sun washed over his face and caressed his skin. He looked around and took in the sights from the buzz on campus.

  The science building sat off in the distance, while the Student Union rose up in front of him, untouched by the destruction he remembered the last time he stood in this very spot two years earlier. From the northeast, a trio of fast-moving fighter jets screamed over campus in formation, banking left to head south toward Davis-Monthan Air Force Base. Their flightpath took them through a spread of strange-looking clouds, floating across the sky in an elongated washboard pattern. There was an empty section in the middle that formed the letter X.

  Motion from his right caught his attention. He looked and saw his younger self pushing Drew in his wheelchair. Young Lucas was wearing a bright-yellow shirt, something older Lucas would never have worn, not even on a dare.

  Older Lucas swung his eyes around and checked the stairs leading to the front of the Student Union. There were only seven students waiting in front of the theater entrance, not hundreds like before. He surveyed the crowd, but didn’t see Drew’s girlfriend Abby or her sexy new roommate, Jasmine.

  “Not enough people waiting and not the right time,” he mumbled, searching his memory. “Plus the girls should be there and it happens at night. This isn’t it.”

  Before he could draw another breath, he found out he was wrong when a brilliant flash of white light erupted from the area a few feet behind the theater line, then time slowed to frame-by-frame action. He watched everything around him creep forward one second at a time as the first Krellian incursion began on the steps of the Student Union.

  “Oh, no. Not now!” he yelled, watching the colors in his vision begin to fade. He turned to yell at his younger self and Drew to get down and protect themselves, but a distortion wave passed over him before he could get the words out. A heartbeat later, he was back in the lab with Masago holding onto his elbow. Griffith and Kleezebee were standing where they were before, making him think everything had returned to normal. He waited for more ripples, but they never came.

  “Did any of you see that?” he shouted.

  Masago let go of him. “See what?”

  “Distortion waves—changes to people and things—time slowing, then a flash,” Lucas said, grab
bing his street clothes from the worktable. He stood motionless as his mind whirled, trying to unscramble what he’d just experienced. It was clear the others couldn’t see or feel the distortion waves, nor did anyone else notice the changes that the ripples brought with them. Since he wasn’t affected, but everyone else was, it meant he was immune to the ripple effects.

  But why?

  He put on the street clothes while he ran through several theories, realizing only one of them made sense: the Smart Skin Suit. It carried with it a residual charge after the connection with the glasses. The reserve power must have created some type of temporal shield, protecting him from the changes. It was the only theory he could muster, but it still didn’t explain the random flashes of change he’d witnessed. Was he seeing alternate versions of his own timeline, or was it some type of looking glass, allowing him to see twisted versions of the past and future? He wasn’t sure. Could be any, or all three.

  It was also possible the distortions might have been the aftereffect of wormholes disconnecting from alternate universes—the very same universes where his copies had originated from. If so, they were showing him the results of various alterations as they were being made to their respective timeline. There was no way to know which of his suspicions was correct, if any, so he decided to let instinct guide him.

  His gut was telling him that most of what he’d seen was Father Time changing channels, showing him snapshots of alternate realities being created and destroyed as the predestination paradox worked its way further and further back through time. Almost like it was narrowing down the timeline choices, trying to find the perfect set of events in the past in order to generate the final future.

  Just then, a phrase flashed in his mind: The Narrows of Time.

  But what about the last distortion event? The one that took him in front of the Student Union where his younger self was modeling an ugly yellow shirt. Why was it the last scene? That fact must be important. Otherwise, all of the craziness he’d just witnessed was simply random timeline static and meant nothing—a conclusion he couldn’t accept. No, it must be important. It had to be. He believed the last vision was shown to him because Father Time had finally made a decision. If he was right, then time had selected the future it wanted by choreographing the past—the past of this Earth. Then, by extension, none of what happened the first time around would hold true anymore.