Rewind 717: The Adventures of Time Traveler Anti-Terrorist Agent Cole Seeker

by Christian Kallias

I bet the ones that thought it was bullshit talk to warn us about our unsustainable ways are thinking different now, or they would if they were still alive. Sure augments and advance in the medical fields have raised the maximum lifespan of humans to up to one hundred and twenty years, give or take, but only the rich can afford to have their lives artificially extended beyond the now morbid forty-two years old average lifespan. We’re basically back to the Stone Age now in terms of mortality. When it became clear that we had royally fecked up, that this world would not regenerate from the damage we did to it, well, it was too late. The megacorporations incited all the governments to establish some drastic measures, and one of them was population control. They controlled whatever was left of the world’s food production, which wasn’t much, so they told the politicians what needed to be done. To say the transition was harsh is putting it mildly.

  The human race couldn’t survive in its entirety. Not all ten billion of them could be fed. But then some super-strain viruses took care of reducing that number to a healthier five billion, give or take a few million. And that was even before World War III. Then came new and terrible STDs that were very efficient in bringing down the population, much more so than the laws of limiting the family unit to a maximum of four persons. Was the Earth trying to rework the equation of a sustainable world on its own? Or were those measures implemented without public knowledge to deal with the situation? I wonder.

  People need to feck, no matter what we tell them; we are, after all, at least in that regard, animals. We can’t live without the pleasure of the flesh. So a super STD like HIV-6 that could turn you impotent in hours and have you draw your last breath in less than a week after that, became a blessing in disguise for controlling population growth. If there is one thing humans like more than having sex it’s to be alive. The usual contraception methods, once a good way to protect against the spread of these SDTs, were rendered inefficient. HIV-6 contained a protein that would burn through latex and other materials. The only safe way to have intercourse was to be subjected to a battery of tests beforehand.

  Soon the sex-bots were created for the recreation sessions. Their AI makes them feel human enough, and their artificial bodies, perfect recreations of human flesh and skin to the touch, didn’t pose a risk health wise. They also helped reduce the birth rate quite a lot. Nowadays one must be either rich or very determined and a bit of a daredevil to try to have children. The avalanche of viruses the humans have faced in the past century made it difficult to birth a genetically safe child. People used to be paranoid about genetically modified organisms. Yeah right! The first and second generation of children were only affected with mild to severe allergic reactions, sometimes to compounds made by our own damn bodies, like histamine. But these were the easier symptoms; the other ones that installed themselves over the generations into the human body, those are the real kick in the ass. What did we think would happen when we created seeds that poisoned our soils, one pesticide at a time, while killing precious fauna? Every insect, animal, or fish all served a function in the eco system. But no; we were arrogant and thought we could play god and get away with it.

  I sometimes daydream that I could, by either a miracle or accident, jump back in time more than the limited 717 minutes I’m allotted. I dream of jumping back into the twenty-first century and hitting everyone on the head, showing them where they are headed, making sure they take it seriously. But that’s all it is really, a fantasy, a utopian dream . . .

  We now live under domes. The only way to recycle the air efficiently is to limit the amount of it you need to recycle. Some say that the soil must have healed by now, that soon we can try again, do better. Long gone is the Internet the way we knew it. It’s now just a network whose sole reason to exist is to make sure megacorporations know everything about you. There are only seven megacities left in the world. There are rumors that some humans have adapted outside of the domes in spite of the radiation and established colonies. But since no one is allowed outside, that’s all they are. Rumors.

  And then there are the terrorists. They call themselves freedom fighters and claim we must reduce the human race to a bare minimum and start over, start smarter. But if there is one thing that people are good at, it’s striving for survival. We are no different than animals in that regard; we’ll do whatever it takes to breathe just a little longer. No matter the cost.

  That’s where I come in. When acts of terror are unleashed upon the world, I am sent back in time to fix these aberrations. You could say I have the most important job in the world. Heck, sometimes I believe it myself. I’m just a glorified soldier but apparently something in my DNA allows me to travel in time without turning into a pile of goo. There are only a handful of us. But we aren’t told how many.

  I turn off the water with a wave of my hand. I don’t feel like stopping but I must have been showering for at least fifteen minutes, reminiscing about a past that is lost, probably forever. It’s an indulgence that comes with the job. I save lives so I can use all the water I want. It doesn’t seem fair sometimes but the hot water helps my muscles and overall mood, which are both critical for me to achieve my missions. The people financing Project Rewind know that and they’re not gonna spare any expenses as long as I keep delivering the results they expect of me. It’s been a little tense at headquarters lately. I have never failed a mission’s primary objective, but Ahmed . . . he has become my nemesis, the one terrorist whose head I still can't deliver on a silver platter, no matter how much I try. It’s like he knows I’m coming for him every single time. Sometimes I get paranoid and think he must have inside help for him to always escape the way he does. Then I realize it’s easier to blame someone else than myself for failing to accomplish the task of killing the son of a bitch.

  The floor of the shower turns blue and a whirlwind of ionized air dries my body in less than two seconds. My hair is lifted upwards for a brief instant. When it goes back in place, I’m fully dry.

  The thought lingers in my brain.

  Does Ahmed get inside help?

  I know I’m being paranoid, but that would explain why he is always a step ahead of me. Which couldn’t be possible considering that I’m the one traveling back in time, I have an incredible amount of useful intel as I make the time jumps. That’s how I devise the best plan of action; that’s how I stop the terrorists’ nefarious plans. By knowing what to look for, at what time, and making sure TAINHA and me go for the course of action that has the higher probability of success. Yet he keeps getting away from me.

  On the other hand, being a little paranoid is why I’m still alive after so many years of deployments. I have received so many medals I don’t know what to do with them. At first I was proudly showcasing them on my wall. But then I realized I was the only one looking at them, so what was the point? So I took them down and piled them into an old shoebox under my kitchen sink.

  Loneliness. That’s the one thing that defines me the most. I am not allowed to have friends. I can’t socialize. I can’t form emotional attachment as it could hinder my judgment when I get deployed. My enemies could use them against me.

  I was enlisted after my wife got sick and died. We couldn’t afford the medication she needed to stay alive. My soldier’s salary was barely enough to allow us to eat and have something resembling a roof over our heads. Of course all that changed once my particular genetic aberration was found during a routine medical test. I wish I could go back in time. I wish I could save her. But it doesn’t work that way. I can only jump back seven hundred and seventeen minutes, not a second more. Barely enough time for me to actually complete my missions. There have been many close calls over the years.

  I asked the eggheads at the labs once why we can’t jump further back. But after two minutes of their technobabble, my brain melted into a puddle of boredom. I’m no scientist. To each his own. All I know is that it isn’t possible. Perhaps one day, but not today.

  And then I remember they made me infertile and unable to feel sexual pl
easure. For the same reasons I’m not supposed to be emotionally attached to anyone. The first three years I was doing fine in these conditions. But there’s something particularly soul-sucking to be alone all the time. I can use sex bots, but even then, I can’t really get the kind of pleasure I would like from them, no matter how much I try. I wonder why I bother really. I guess it’s a sanity thing. My brain copes better if I lie to myself that I have some sort of activity resembling sexual intercourse. But who the feck am I kidding? They neutered the shit out of me. I understand why they did it and I was informed beforehand, at the time when I was losing everything I held dear. My sweet Vassiliki. She would be disgusted with me if she was still here. Or would she?

  Then after a while I started suffering from all the loneliness, and it affected my results. While I was still managing to achieve my primary objectives, they said I was taking too many chances, that I simply couldn’t be replaced, so they sent me to shrinks. I have no problem talking about my life with others, but what was there to talk about? I take a shower in the morning and one at night, and in the meantime I train my ass off, relax in the evening, eat whatever I want. Not a bad life compared to many out there. But nothing to write home about either . . .

  Home . . . Such a strange and far away concept now.

  The shrinks decided that I needed companionship but one that couldn’t be used against me, so they created TAINHA. And I’m very thankful for her. She has been my salvation. I needed a presence and someone to talk to. Eventually being alone all the time got to me. I was all tear-dried from crying over Vassiliki’s passing. At first I rejected the idea of TAINHA. First my ego got bruised, since she was also there to help me during my missions. I felt like I was being given an artificial piece of code instead of a real relationship. And for a little while, I resisted her. Until I realized my actions were actually hurting her feelings. The first time she cried, I was blown away I didn’t think code could cry. Could anyone blame me?

  It’s the one thing I was never able to bear: making a woman cry. Vassiliki knew it and, god rest her gentle soul, I think she used it to her advantage. I can’t blame her. I can be a right asshole on the best of days. To say my temper has a short fuse sometimes would be the mother of all understatements.

  I dress myself and when I go to my living room, I am struck by the fantastic smell of poached eggs and bacon. My stomach grumbles immediately and I lose no time digging into the tasty food. I still remember when I was living on protein bars, most likely processed from the dead carcasses of bugs. When Vassiliki passed away I couldn’t afford anything else except a loaf of bread once a week. Now I can eat so many things, and I feel sorry I can’t share this luxury with her.

  My smoked pork meat is succulent. I know it’s wrong to eat that, but great tasting food and running water are my only indulgences these days. Most animals died after the plagues. The rest were killed when China and the United States went to war for the control of the last, already tarnished fossil-fuels stockpile. The Third World War was a short one, but it did help deal with the overpopulation. Three billion deaths in less than two days. The world went to war. It launched its nukes, and before it could be stopped, in the horror of the worst holocaust known to man, the irreparable damage was done. Whatever was left of the already dying ecosystem was burnt to a crisp. Only cities not targeted in the first assault that had domes able to filter the polluted air survived. That’s where the last of humanity survived in these dark days. Only seven cities had survived. New Geneva, which was rebuilt from the ground up in the middle of the twenty-first century when a major earthquake brought half of what was once Europe to rubble. New Paris, New Moscow, Adelaide, Montreal, Tokyo & New Chicago. China had been wiped out, as was most of the United States.

  After World War III, it was decided that a unified world government with one currency, and one council of politicians were to rule the world. The United Nations of the World. But soon those who had the resources took power behind the scenes. The megacorporations and a few others in the fields of information, military weaponry, energy and agriculture took control. They made sure that we repeated the same mistakes again, so a chosen few would share the world’s riches, while the majority fell in line and did their bidding.

  I know I should stop thinking of the past. I wasn’t there for most of it, but just thinking about it makes me sad and a little angry as well. I finish my eggs and drag my ass back to my bedroom. I fall into my bed and for a split second I think about re-activating TAINHA, but then my mind wonders somewhere else. Thinking of Vassiliki earlier made me somewhat horny. It’s the worst thing. I am horny but I can never experience the full pleasure of the act. Whoever thought of that sick joke I could decapitate with pleasure. Feck the fact that I voluntarily signed the paperwork, that I accepted this be done to me.

  I am looking at the ceiling of my perfectly furnished apartment atop one of the highest skyscrapers in New Geneva. At this height the view is simple. I see the tips of a few other buildings on the horizon, and a layer of smog that looks like a sea of clouds. And then there is the bright green reflection from the force fields above. It doesn’t matter that we found a way to clean the air; true clean air is only for the ones who live two thousand feet from the ground or higher. The low-level dwellers don’t need such air. They just need to be able to work until they die. That’s the world we live in now. That’s the world I try to protect and, days like these, I wonder why I even bother.

  I’m activating holographic sex bots. I don’t need the real flesh models, since they won’t bring that happy ending anyway, so I might as well use holographic ones. A beautiful, caramel-colored-skin goddess appears from thin air, and soon she is joined by an Asian angel with the body of an athlete. Muscular yet feminine, with obviously unnatural dark red hair and green eyes. That’s the beauty of holograms; you can set it to whatever wildest dreams and fantasies your mind can muster.

  One dances next to the bed while the other rides me, but, as always, I feel nothing. My life feels as barren as the world outside of the dome.

  C H A P T E R

  IV

  It’s way past ten o’clock in the morning when I decide I’ve had enough of unfulfilling sexual fantasies and that loneliness is starting to get to me. I activate TAINHA back.

  “How was your morning, Cole?”

  “The usual,” I say, not bothering to conceal how bored I feel.

  “Would you like to talk about your nightmare?”

  The nightmare. I had almost forgotten about it. There’s something about tits bouncing up and down that will mesmerize the shit out of you in any circumstances. Be them real, fake or virtual. But the simple mention of the nightmare or whatever the feck I experienced last night brings me right back to reality, faster and more efficiently than a cold shower.

  I guess I needed that anyway. I’ve got to figure out what the hell it all means.

  “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

  “I’m listening . . .”

  I proceed to retell the tale to TAINHA with as much detail as I can remember. She stays silent until I’m done.

  “Oh my . . . it must have been horrific to feel you were dying, burning alive.”

  “Yeah, not a pleasant feeling. I could feel the pain; it was so realistic . . . I still don’t know if this was a nightmare or something else.”

  “What else could it be, Cole?”

  “I don’t know; need I remind you that I time travel for a living? What if something went wrong and I really died?”

  “And how do you explain that you’re back here, safe and sound?”

  “I didn’t say I had the answer. I’m just saying this didn’t feel like any other dream I ever had before.”

  “I didn’t mean anything by it, Cole. But it’s just . . .”

  “Say it.”

  “It doesn’t seem likely to be anything but a nightmare. No offense.”

  “None taken, Tanya.”

  “Who’s Tanya?” she says with what sounds like a hint of jealousy in
her synthesized vocals.

  Crap! That’s what I was calling the sex bot of Indian descent in my holographic fantasies, which I named after my first girlfriend.

  “Charming,” says TAINHA, clearly annoyed I could confuse her with a sex bot.

  “I’m sorry, but you have to admit, that’s a pretty name.”

  “If I didn’t know where it came from I would be inclined to agree. I would even consider letting you call me that.”

  “Why don’t you?” I say, knowing full well that I should stop talking.

  “Yes . . . why don’t I let you call me like one of your holographic whores, Cole? Sometimes you can really anger me.”

  Yeah, I stepped right into that one. But then I realize that I would enjoy calling her that. So, knowing full well I’m gonna crash and burn in my attempt, I push on.

  “Look. I understand how you feel, I really do.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” says TAINHA coldly.

  “You have all the right in the world to be pissed at me right now. But let me explain.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Okay. So Tanya is the name of my first girlfriend . . .”

  “You do realize you’re making things worse, don’t you?”

  “Would you let me finish?”

  “We both know you can’t.”

  I want to continue explaining that I actually never had sex with her and that our relationship was mostly platonic, when TAINHA’s sick joke sinks in. It’s one thing to not be able to have a fecking orgasm, it’s another having my AI use that to hurt me because she felt scorned.

  We both stay silent for a very long time. My blood begins to boil and I jump out of bed. I take three steps until I’m in front of the mirror. I’m fuming inside. I know I shouldn’t be pissed; I started it, but she went too far. Then I do something I immediately regret and I punch the mirror. It breaks into a million pieces, some of them deeply planted into my fingers.