by Unknown
Werner rested his hand over the switch and stopped. Sweat poured down his forehead. This was it. His next action would decide the fate of the world. Humanity would never progress beyond this point in time, whether they fail or succeed.
“What do you and your colleagues believe will be the result if it collides into the sun?”
“We expect the result will be devastating. The sun could be displaced, possibly even destroyed.”
“Then what is the likelihood of Earth’s survival?”
“Miracles can happen . . . All we can do now, is hope for one.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
Werner stood silent for a moment. “When we go back, everything will be just as it was. Everything. Even our own memories. It will be as if the last ten years never happened. How can we prevent this from happening again?”
“We can’t,” Heinrich said regretfully. “But if nothing changes then we will reset again in another ten years.” He paused. “It’s entirely possible that we’ve already done this a hundred times before.”
“So. This is it then.”
“It’s this, or extinction, Emil.”
There was a long, dreadful silence. Werner stared at the switch; just a harmless little switch, like that of a light or a fuse. “We should wait.”
“Wait for what? A divine miracle?”
“Yes. Why activate it until we absolutely must?”
They waited. The tension grew as the object approached the sun.
“It must be done now.”
“A moment longer.” Only a sliver of sunlight remained, darkness falling fast.
“By the time we see the impact it could already be too late!”
It slowly created an eclipse, turning daytime into night. Then it happened; an explosion lit up the darkness, flames spreading around the black silhouette.
“May God have mercy on us.” Werner flicked the switch.
***
June 16th, 2012
Johnathan Gibbs awoke from a dream. A dream that felt so real, yet so wonderful that it had to be impossible: He dreamt he had a wife, a home that they had bought together, and two wonderful children. He was holding them in his arms. The last thing he remembered was seeing a bright fire illuminating the sky, and telling his wife he loved her more than anything.
We’ll always be together, she said. Even in the hereafter.
But the bed he woke up in was not theirs. This was his old apartment; seventh story of the Elmont building, 3rd Street. He shook the sleep out of his head. The memories didn’t fade, didn’t dissolve like most dreams do. He remembered her name; Kara. Their kids, Elena and Johnathan Jr. Their address, 45 Grand Oak Drive. Aluminium sidings painted powder blue, white shutters on the windows. A two car garage. Home.
It was real. He was sure. And yet he was here, in the cramped apartment from his bleak past. He got out of bed, went into the washroom and looked at himself in the mirror. His reflection showed a man he had long forgotten; a young man, thin and frail, pale and sickly looking. A man with many burdens to bear.
This isn’t real, he thought. It can’t be.
***
He ran up Grand Oak Drive, struggling for breath. He reached number 45. It hardly looked like his house; the shutters were gone. The sidings were a faded white. Someone else’s car was parked in the driveway. Panicking, he threw open the front door and barged in. “Kara?”
There was an elderly man sitting in the living room. He stared fearfully at John.
“Kara! Kara where are you?”
“Get out!” The man yelled.
“This is my house!” John screamed back at him.
“Get out or I’ll call the police!”
This must be hell, John thought. I’m dead and I’m in hell.
***
June 21st, 2012
They had dressed him in the same blue attire as every other patient, and gave him sedatives. He felt like a zombie; his eyes were in a distant place, his head swaying back and forth lazily. John wanted to sleep, wanted to be left alone. But they wouldn’t leave him be.
He was escorted to the psychiatrist’s office and seated in front of the doctor’s desk. “How are you feeling today, Mr. Gibbs?” he was asked. John just shook his head, unable to find the will to even speak. “You have a visitor,” the doctor said. Someone entered the room.
“It’s always something, isn’t John?” A stern voice addressed him. A chill ran up his spine. John slowly raised his head, his eyes confirming his worst fear. There was his father, with that condescending look John remembered so well. “You broke into an elderly man’s house and assaulted him. For Christ’s sake, kid, when are you gonna grow a brain?”
John laughed meekly.
The old man became very angry. “Is something funny, John?”
“My father died years ago,” he said. “He died and I was happier for it.”
“Cut the crap, John, you’re not--”
“Fuck you, whoever you are. Even if you really are my dad.”
“You’ve gone completely backwards, kid. Enough is enough. This is your problem, you deal with it. I’m done fixing your mistakes.” The old man turned and walked away.
“I watched them lower you into the ground!” John yelled. “Best day of my life!”
***
December 9th, 2014
Time had passed, more time than John cared to count. He spent his days staring at the white walls of his room and watching the seasons pass by through his window. He spent his nights talking to Kara in his head, imagining that she was always there with him like she promised she would be.
We’ll always be together.
Maybe he really had lost his mind. Everything had seemed so perfect, like a miracle. Maybe his perfect life had just been a wishful fantasy. Everyone else seemed to think so.
It was time to let go, time to free himself from his pain. He was ready.
He had managed to steal a utility knife from the janitor’s storage room early in the day, carrying it in his waistband until they locked him back in his room that night. He sat on the floor, staring at the dull blade. He thought it over, knowing deep down that this was the only option left for him.
He gripped the blade tight in his hand. He knew the way it had to be done; up the arm, not across the wrist. He sunk the blade deep into the skin, trembling with pain and terror. Tears welled up in his eyes. Just do it. One quick motion. Blood was already flowing up out of his arm, running around his wrist and pattering softly on the white cell floor. This was the point of no return.
He looked away and ran the blade up his arm. He screamed in agony, turning back to see blood coursing out from his wrist almost to the back of his elbow. He trembled and heaved. Soon his heart was pounding madly, desperately trying to pump blood that wasn’t there. He started to feel a terrible chill. So this is death.
He could hear the nurses hurriedly trying to unlock the door from the other side. John’s eyes were twitching uncontrollably, his vision blurring. He felt very lightheaded and toppled over, his head crashing into the bloody cell floor. Then everything went dark.
***
June 16th, 2012
John awoke from a terrible nightmare. He dreamt he had been locked away in an insane asylum, and the only way out was . . . No. No, it was only a dream. He was in his apartment again, in his bed. But if it was just a dream, then why did his misery feel so real? He looked at his arm. No cuts, no scars. He took a moment to catch his breath, to awaken and let the memory fade. It didn’t.
Something else clawed at the back of his mind. A life he once lived. People he loved. Was it real?
Kara. I have to find Kara.
***
He marched up Sawyer Street, constantly fearful that they were looking for him, that at any moment they might find him and drag him away again. He reached her house, the one she lived in before they had been together. John frantically knocked on her door, praying that she’d know who he was. He needed her to remember.
“Yes?” she said. “Can I . . . Help you?”
His smile faded but the tears kept coming. “Kara,” he whispered.
“Yes?”
“Help me, please. Tell me that you remember.”
There was a long pause. She stared at him fearfully, saying nothing.
***
John reached the intersection at the end of Sawyer Street. A bus was coming. He stood on the sidewalk, looking calm and inconspicuous. He could hear the drone of its diesel engine as it sped closer. He waited until the last possible moment. When it drove into the intersection, he stepped off the sidewalk and into its path. The driver didn’t have time to apply the brakes. The bumper shattered John’s knees only an instant before his head cracked the windshield.
***
June 16th, 2012
John awoke with a pounding headache and tears in his eyes. He left his bed, and marched straight to the window. He lifted it open, and before he could make sense of his memories, he stepped onto the sill and jumped. Within moments, he broke against the sidewalk.
***
June 16th, 2012
John awoke. A dream of sweet death lingered in his mind. He turned and looked at his bedroom window, still firmly shut. He inhaled a deep breath and sighed. Then he got up and went to the kitchen, grabbed a large knife from the cutlery drawer and drove it into his stomach repeatedly. He hesitated at first, leaving shallow wounds that stung terribly. Memories of Kara flooded into his thoughts against his will, tormenting him. He wished he could forget. Why couldn’t he forget?
He drove the knife in hard, pressing the blade through as far as he could, wailing in agony all the while. His hands trembled at his sides as he looked down at himself, the handle of the blade protruding from the bloody wound. He hoped to punish himself enough that he’d be forgiven for whatever he did to deserve this. He hoped to be granted peace.
John breathed heavily, overwhelmed by pain and wishing death would come soon. Blood had run down his legs and pooled around his feet over the tiled kitchen floor, more blood than he thought possible. His heart had gone from a fast pounding to a spastic twitching. His legs felt weak, his body cold. He fell to his knees, and while he was kneeling in his own blood, he prayed.
Please God. Let me die. Just let it end... Then everything went dark.
***
October 19th, 2019
“It’s finally ready.”
Heinrich stood back for a better view; it didn’t look like much, if truth were told. Certainly not like a device that had the power to reset time.
“I wonder if it actually works,” Werner mused. “But, I suppose we’ll never know. It’s somewhat depressing.”
“It works, Emil. You know it does.”
“But why not . . . Try it?”
“And trap humanity in an infinite loop? Really?”
Werner sighed. “I don’t know why we ever built this cursed thing in the first place. If it works, then the world will essentially end. If it doesn’t, then it will have failed its purpose and the world will still end. What’s the point in creating something if you can never test it to see if it works?”
“Ignorance is bliss, Emil. Wouldn’t you want to relive all of the wonderful events of the past?”
“Not if I knew that there would be no future.”
“And what if we’ve already activated the machine once? What if we’ve relived this very moment a thousand times before? Does that make you any less eager to see what the next moment will bring?”
Werner contemplated for a second. He smiled. “I suppose not. Damn these hypothetical questions! We should have never built this cursed thing.”
“You already said that.” Heinrich laughed. “Perhaps we are running in a loop. What do you think we’re destined to do next?”
“I think destiny dictates that we call it a day, head to the tavern, and get completely and utterly smashed.”
Heinrich smiled and nodded. “I can see a pattern forming already.”
***
John followed them through the park, keeping his distance. There were three of them; a tall man with red hair, a little girl, and Kara. They all smiled and laughed together. It drove John mad seeing Kara looking so happy about all of it, seeing the joy she once felt from him coming from some other man.
Everything had failed, time and time again. He had tried to show her that they were soul mates, tried fruitlessly to recreate the circumstances of their first encounter, reliving all of the agonizing years before their meeting. He had tried taking shortcuts, forcing their meeting long before it was supposed to happen. Hardest of all, he had tried to forget. He realized that the problem was him. He wasn’t the man she fell in love with. He was a shadow of himself; an empty silhouette of the man he used to be.
Every little change held repercussions; everything had to be the exact same. It was impossible. But he kept trying to win her over. He had to, as much as it hurt him. All he had was time. It was this or nothing.
Kara and the redheaded man exchanged words and a long kiss, and then he departed, leaving Kara alone with the girl. Now was John’s chance. He approached her.
“Lovely day today, isn’t it?” John asked.
She nodded dismissively. “Yep.”
“Great day for a walk.”
“Mmmhmm,” was her agreement. John stared at Kara, but she avoided eye contact. Speak to me, Kara. Look at me, please. At least give me that. She kept looking away.
The little girl looked up at John and smiled. “Hi!” she said.
He stared at the little girl. She had green eyes and curly red hair. He hated her. “Hello. What’s your name?”
Kara quickly intervened. “Elena, honey, I told you. No talking to strangers.”
John’s eyes flared open. “Elena!” He shouted. “Elena? It wasn’t enough to give a child to another man, you had to steal our daughter’s name too?”
Kara backed away in a panic. She pulled the girl close to her. ”Leave us alone, please.”
“Talk to me, Kara! Treat me with something other than hate and disgust!”
“Why do you know my name?”
“Your maiden name is Vanhemert. You like classical music. You’re a Libra. I’m your soul mate. I know everything about you.”
“Please, just leave us alone!”
“I made a vow; until death do us part. I mean to keep that vow, Kara.”
“Get away from me!” she screamed.
“If only you knew!” John yelled. “If only you knew what I’ve put myself through for you!”
***
Heinrich was sitting at the bar, looking into his nearly empty glass of beer and wondering if he should order another. He wondered if it was his fate. A good enough excuse. He signaled the bartender and pointed to his glass.
While waiting for his drink, he wondered what the future would bring and what part he’d have in it. Wondered if the device was a blessing, or a curse. He turned to Werner. He was reading a newspaper, his eyes skimming forward and darting back as he read each line.
“About this time restoration instrument we’ve made,” Werner said.
“What about it?” Heinrich responded with feigned disinterest, as if he wasn’t spending every waking moment thinking about it himself.
“Well, what if it works?”
Heinrich paused. “Then we go back and relive our lives in blissful ignorance.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. If there ever comes a time, god forbid, that we actually have to use it... I mean, what’s to say we haven’t reset once already?”
“Nothing, I suppose. Why worry? Nothing to be done about it. There’s no way to alter the future without knowing what the future is first.”
Ther
e was another moment’s silence. “What if someone did know the future? What if someone could remember?”
The bartender brought Heinrich’s beer over. Heinrich narrowed his eyes at Werner. “How exactly?”
“I don’t know how. But what if they could?”
Irritated, Heinrich shook his head. “Why does it matter, Emil?”
Werner lowered his newspaper on the bar and slid it over so that Heinrich could read the page:
Johnathan Gibbs sees a bleak future
Eccentric psychic Johnathan Gibbs has been making astounding predictions, and warning his followers, “The end is near.”
He looked up at Werner with his eyebrows elevated. “Tell me you don’t believe this foolishness.”
“Read on,” Werner told him.
Heinrich drank while his eyes darted back and forth over the page, taking it all in: Celebrity fatalities predicted in exact detail. Natural disasters pinpointed to the minute. Gibbs was even claiming that he was from the future. Astounding, if any of it were true. It likely wasn’t.
“Well? Tell me you don’t find that somewhat concerning.”
”Don’t believe everything you read,” Heinrich said with a note of uncertainty.
“It might be worth finding this man,” Werner said. “Imagine what wealth of knowledge he could possess if he truly does know the future. If he’s seen the apocalypse, he could help us prevent it.”
The intense look in his eyes suggested that Werner was quite serious about seeking this man out. It left Heinrich feeling very unsettled; this Gibbs fellow was either brimming with lies or worse, the terrifying truth. Heinrich didn’t want to hear either one.
He looked down at his beer, surprised to see that it was nearly empty again. He wondered when he’d finally drink enough to drown his worries. Maybe never, but it was worth trying. He signaled the bartender and pointed to his glass.
