Temporal Contingency

by Joseph R. Lallo

  “Beans and rice.”

  “BSOD, get me a nutritional breakout on beans and rice,” Karter said.

  Something blipped onto the screen as he took it from the gantry arm. He read it quietly to himself, navigating the cluttered and uneven floor without taking his eyes from the screen.

  “Tryptophan… mmhmm… good distribution… Okay, this’ll do. BSOD, make this the standard going forward.”

  “You’ve never had beans and rice before?” Lex said.

  “Why would I? Sounds like rabbit food. But it’ll do.”

  Lex sucked his teeth and tried to remember to stop assuming things about Karter. There had to be some sort of problem with future knowledge looping back and planting the seed that would become future knowledge. Cause and effect were supposed to be a straight line, not a circle.

  “Hook your suit up to that terminal over there and dump any relevant data,” Karter said.

  “Why not wireless?”

  “Because you’re a government employee and you don’t trust wireless transmission for this crap. At least that was the standing order last time we negotiated the contract.”

  “Ah, yes. Of course.”

  Karter looked to the slidepad again, thumbing it back to the prior data. “This shouldn’t be tough. Need to do some brute-forcing on algorithms. There’s some room here for garbage data and rearranging stuff. Arbitrary checksum matching is pretty standard stuff for espionage equipment.”

  “About how long do you figure this will take then?” Lex asked, reeling out the communication cable from his suit and trying to find an appropriate slot.

  “Five billable hours. Maybe eight. It’s a data exercise, you could have just sent it over the net, by the way. Or do you not even trust that anymore. I guess it would explain why you’re here. Bureaucrats nickel-and-dime my project, then waste time and man-hours by sending a courier instead of a file and a simulator. Pff. Government projects.”

  Lex finally found a port he could use and plugged it in. A file listing presented itself on his suit’s control panel, providing him with a drive to dump his data to. While he was searching for the file Ma had left for him, a notification scrolled by.

  Please put on your helmet.

  Casting a glance at Karter, Lex slowly clicked the helmet on. As soon as it was secure, a voice spoke up. It was Ma.

  “Lex, we’re on our way back to you,” she said.

  “Is that good or bad?” he whispered.

  “Our own arrival will be fortunate for you. What is less fortunate is the arrival of Karter, which, based upon his ship’s prior performance, will precede our arrival by several hours.”

  “Karter is coming here…”

  “We will arrive in five hours and forty minutes. Karter will arrive in less time.”

  “How much less?”

  “Unknown, but considerably.”

  “And what’s your status? Are you going to help him or me?”

  “I have provided him with the location of the GMVD after attempting to present it personally. This is a suitable fulfillment of requirements. His subsequent order, that I remain motionless, was fulfilled as well. Until an additional order can be given, I have reverted to my previous level of free will. Has Past Karter begun work on the project?”

  “He’s just getting started now. But if he’s right, we’re not going to be nearly finished when his future self shows up to collect.”

  “Steps have been, or will be, made to delay or distract him.”

  “What do you mean? What steps?” he asked.

  “I do not know. I have not decided yet, but I am confident my decisions will be wise.”

  “… I don’t follow.”

  “I am endeavoring to utilize what has been called the Logan’s Key Principle of Cyclical Causality.”

  “You say these things like they should mean something to me.”

  “As always, your comprehension is not necessary. However, as soon as I resolved to perform this task, early results of my efforts presented themselves. This implies other precautions will be or have been similarly successful, whatever they may be. Please focus on your own task. Take every necessary step to complete the mission. When an insurmountable obstacle appears to present itself, I ask that you trust my future decisions to keep you safe and on track. Just be forewarned that the specific means of aid may be somewhat unconventional.”

  “Oh, that’ll be a change of pace.” He clenched his fist. “Whatever happened to the days when all I had to do was fight lunatics and hordes of robots and worry about stars turning into black holes?”

  “One must grow to meet the challenges presented to us. I must disconnect. I am leaving Coal in command of communications from this point forward. If Karter cannot communicate with me, he will not be capable of issuing any new orders.”

  “Okay. Good luck with that Logan’s Key thing.”

  Ma disconnected, and Lex turned to find himself face to face with Karter. The inventor stared at him with his arms crossed.

  Lex removed his helmet. “Something wrong?”

  “You’re asking me if something is wrong. I’m not the idiot that just stood here for two minutes with his helmet on indoors.”

  “I had to take a private message.”

  “And you felt your own personal cone of silence was the way to go? You couldn’t just go with text?”

  Lex paused. “Government policy.”

  “Uh-huh,” Karter said, pushing him aside and yanking the cord from the console. “Keep your secrets. Just so long as the bank transfer clears.”

  Lex glanced around, now looking over the laboratory for the first time as a potential battleground, and he didn’t like what he saw.

  “You sure do seem to be a fan of the open concept floor plan,” Lex said.

  “Stripping out the walls made it easier to install and utilize the arms.”

  “What would happen if someone blew a hole in one of the walls?”

  “I would shoot that person in the face.”

  “Besides that.”

  “The air would rush out.”

  “Of the whole place. Because there are no walls.”

  “Yes, that’s how air works, John.”

  “I’m not…” Lex snapped, but he caught himself. “Considering the fact that you build mines in here, aren’t you a little worried about the safety of this whole situation?”

  “Nope,” Karter said, not even feeling the need to qualify it.

  Lex sighed. “Okay, let’s ask this then. Do you have any guns?”

  “Yes.”

  “How big?”

  “Wrong question.”

  “How powerful, then?”

  “Powerful enough to have a little fun. Why, you want to blow some holes in the landscape?”

  “Let’s just say I’m anticipating company, and I’d like to be able to intimidate if I need to.”

  “I don’t know you, but I can say with certainty that you suck with guns and I’m not letting you use mine. If anyone needs shooting, I’ll be pulling the trigger.”

  “I don’t think you’ll want to pull the trigger on this guy.”

  “If this conversation rolls on for much longer, I’m going to start demonstrating just how eager I am to pull triggers. Now leave me alone so I can get to coding,” Karter said.

  He dragged a chair out from beneath a pile of assorted hardware, plopped down on it, and went to work at the console. Lex took another look around.

  “Fine. But just have those guns ready.”

  Without looking, Karter snatched a wrench from the table and swung. Lex barely managed to pull his head out of the way.

  “Don’t tell me what to do, John,” Karter said calmly. “And since when did you have reflexes like that?”

  “I came here anticipating attempts on my life,” Lex said, backing to a safer distance.

  “Good call. Now run along.” Karter tossed the wrench over his shoulder like a used tissue. “Busy.”

  #

  Agent
Trent’s file was becoming unmanageable. He’d always known VectorCorp controlled information when it suited them, but it hadn’t dawned on him how much manipulation could accumulate in a company of their sheer size and scope. The fingerprints of manipulation were everywhere. As he found more and more fudged records and deleted files, he became better at seeing the signs. Much of the manipulation was obvious to him, even if access controls made it invisible to the public. Some information, he realized, was profoundly well hidden. Even with his access privileges, he found it difficult to prove what was legitimate and what was glazed over in some instances. But whoever they were, the men and women responsible weren’t perfect. VectorCorp had so many sensors, and of such quality, that even its own people didn’t know about all of them. Three cover-ups in the last six days alone had left lingering images, audio, and data on distant sensors.

  He saved and archived some video of what appeared to be a military exercise going rogue, then typed up notes on the snippets of communication preceding a recent event dubiously labeled by VectorCorp probes as an asteroid impact at an abandoned military facility.

  Emergency beacon associated with CX project detected in vicinity. Mention of terrorist organization known as the Neo-Luddites. Mention of a mechanism or mechanisms known as GenMechs, he typed.

  His notes complete, he saved the document to his personal database and made ready to start his rounds for the day. Before he could lock down his terminal, he heard an incoming voice call. The screen identified the caller as VectorCorp Security Corporate Headquarters. He slipped on his headset and answered.

  “Agent Trent?” said the voice on the other end, not even waiting for him to say hello. It was a male voice, dripping with the sort of discipline and authority he associated with his military days.

  “Yes.”

  “We have noted unusual behavior on your account.”

  “To whom am I speaking?”

  “This is Security Director Hale. Please explain your recent activity.”

  “I’ve been researching a series of security breaches, sir.”

  “Security breaches?”

  “Yes. I have reason to believe individuals within VectorCorp, most likely within VectorCorp Security, have been working to conceal a great deal of potentially dangerous activity.”

  “I see. Have you found anything to identify those responsible?”

  “Not yet, but I’m finding patterns.”

  “Describe some of your findings.”

  Trent opened the file again. “Just a day ago a group of sixty-four military drones and their deployment vessel disappeared during interstellar transport. It looks like there was a requested data blackout on that, probably from the commanding officer of the military that misplaced their drones, but I don’t think it is our place to conceal that sort of information from the public.”

  “That isn’t for you to decide.”

  “I appreciate that, sir, but I have reason to believe it may be related to an unexplained malware infection that our data division has dismissed as harmless. There have been three instances where data has been wiped regarding visual records of the same ship, a sort of angular framework vessel that matches no known make or model. I suspect the malware is responsible for that as well. And then there’s this ‘impact’ that happened just a few hours ago. I’ve got some communication picked up on local beacons that suggests a terrorist group may have been responsible, using something called a Neo-GenMech. I’m planning to research the term to determine if it is a biological weapon, which might leave dangerous traces in the area.”

  “That’s some fine work, Trent. You are at Crest dry docks, correct?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll schedule some time in the corporate secure communication room for you. Bring your findings. I want a full report via video conference.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  He ended the communication and practically beamed with excitement. A face-to-face meeting with the director of security regarding his independent investigation. This was precisely the sort of thing that got a man promoted. He knew the hard work and initiative would pay off.

  #

  Karter, for better or worse, had sunk his teeth into the project to the detriment of everything else. Three hours had passed and he’d stopped only long enough to grab a pack of a horrific snack called Vice Stix. In Lex’s era it had wisely become effectively a controlled substance thanks to its unholy ingredient list, featuring caffeine, sugar, salt, fat, and an ill-defined “meat” to name but a few. The inventor had been eating them like candy.

  “Dr. Dee, you have a visitor,” BSOD announced.

  He replied with a vague grunt.

  “I’m sorry, I did not understand your reply.”

  Lex spoke up, suddenly tense. “Who is it?”

  BSOD did not reply.

  “I told it to ignore you. You were a prisoner for a bit, remember,” Karter said.

  “Yes, Dr. Dee. Opening outer door now.”

  “I didn’t tell you to do that,” Karter said.

  “Crap…” Lex said, glancing around. “About those guns, Karter.”

  “You delivered the order seventeen seconds ago, backed up with codeword verification and retinal scan, outside the exterior entryway,” BSOD said.

  “Crap, crap, crap…” Lex muttered, strapping on his helmet and snatching the wrench that Karter had previously attempted to lodge in his skull.

  “BSOD, am I going to have to run another disk check on you?”

  “Unknown. Cycling interior doors.”

  The door opened and a cloud of foul-smelling yellow particles rushed into the room. Standing in the doorway, suited up and equipped with a small but cruel-looking energy pistol, was Future Karter.

  “Ugh… I remember this place…” he said, dusting himself off and pacing inside. “I tell them I want someplace where I can be left alone, and they stick me on this fluorescent egg-fart-smelling clump of dirt.”

  Past Karter looked up at himself. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I’m you, after about eighty years of bad decisions,” Future Karter said.

  “Oh. What are you doing here?” Past Karter asked.

  “What are… what are you…?” Lex stuttered in disbelief. “You just saw yourself walk through the door with a gun in his hand and all you ask is ‘What are you doing here’?”

  “Shut up, Lex,” Future Karter said, raising his gun.

  “Shut up, John,” Past Karter said at the same time.

  Lex dove behind a piece of machinery he hoped was dense enough to absorb a shot or two, though knowing Karter, that pistol could probably drop a hovertank out of the sky.

  “John?” replied Future Karter, cocking his head. “Oh, right. John. I remember John. Whatever happened to John…?”

  “He’s right there,” Past Karter said, hiking a thumb at Lex.

  “I was talking to myself,” Future Karter said.

  “I know, that’s why I answered.”

  “Not you,” Future Karter said. “God I was an idiot. … John… Now I remember. That first round of pills… that took me out of commission for a while… Never mind. I’m taking the GMVD.”

  “What the hell’s a GMVD?” Past Karter said.

  “That’s a GMVD,” Future Karter said, pointing to the device immobilized by the robotic arms.

  “Why aren’t you freaking out!?” Lex cried from his hiding place.

  “Lex, at that point in my life I spent about ninety percent of my time talking to myself. These days it’s closer to sixty, sixty-five. The point is, being able to look myself in the eye while I’m at it is just a useful novelty,” said Future Karter.

  “Although I’m more of a dick than usual,” Past Karter observed.

  “Yeah. That’s the way time works. More time equals more wisdom. More wisdom equals more stupid people by comparison. Nowadays I’m floating in a sea of one hundred percent pure idiocy, and that’s more than enough to crank the dickishness up to eleven.”

&nbs
p; “Makes sense.”

  “Of course it does. I said it. At this point, every word out of my mouth is pure, undiluted brilliance. So anyway, I’m taking the GMVD. ”

  “Nope,” Past Karter said. “I’m under contract. No one’s messing with my paycheck. Not even me.”

  “I admire my dedication, but I wasn’t asking.”

  “BSOD, get me a gun,” Past Karter said.

  The gantry arms sprang to action, clicking open a cabinet at the far end of the room. Future Karter raised his gun and pointed it at his past self, then paused.

  “Hang on… causality. Can I kill you and still exist?” he said, the question asked with the same casual nature of a man asking about a tricky bit of grammar.

  “Linear time and a single-world model would indicate you can’t,” Past Karter replied, watching the arms select a gun and begin to hand it off to successively closer arms.

  “Yeah, but we’ve determined the single-world model is incorrect. The issue is the branching point of your history and mine. In theory, if all of this fails but no one finds out about it, history could roll forward with these things unmodified and I’d be the result, so this could technically still be my timeline.”

  The arm nearest to them caught the gun and paused.

  “What are you waiting for, BSOD?” Past Karter asked.

  “I have been ordered to deliver a firearm to Karteroketraskin Oneserioriendi Dee. It is unclear which of the two instances is to receive it.”

  Future Karter, still working on the puzzle, fired a shot at the rifle, destroying it.

  “Retrieving replacement firearm,” BSOD said, the arms snapping into action again.

  “I don’t remember this whole exchange, so that’s an indicator this isn’t my timeline and you’re a free target. Then again, this is decades ago, and I can barely remember what I did yesterday. Plus there’s that whole Connors treatment that really screwed me up for a while…”

  “Who is this Connors guy?” Past Karter said. He glanced to the arms. “No, not that one, BSOD, that’s a sniper rifle. The guy’s right here. Go get one of the sidearms, from the back.”

  “Connors? Don’t get me started on Connors. You’re going to hate him. Though he is the guy who ends up officially certifying you insane.”