The Great Altruist

by Z. D. Robinson

  “The retrofit is going just fine. I expect it will only be another day before we're ready for launch.”

  “Really? That soon?”

  “Yes, I don't know where you've found these men and women, but they are the hardest working group I've ever seen.”

  Roger smiled and nodded, accepting the complement. “People tend to adjust the effort they expend based on the compensation. The people on your team are paid well enough to move faster than light if it were possible.”

  “Actually, that's something I've discovered you might find interesting. As you're probably aware, time and space are interrelated. Well, a lot of what has gone into that time machine can be adjusted to make the vessel travel through space much faster than it does now – breaking the speed of light shouldn't be impossible.”

  “I imagine that would take some time to do.”

  “Yes, it would,” Archer said. “But seeing as you're using my current work for peaceful purposes, I see no problem in giving you my other work if you feel it may be of use.”

  “I'm sure it would, and thank you.”

  Archer pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. He came around to the front of the desk and pulled up a chair beside Roger. “My friend, we've gotten to know each other pretty well these last few months, right?”

  “I trust you implicitly, Doctor,” he responded.

  Archer smiled. “It's that trust that compels me to share a secret I have been keeping from you and I want you to know sooner than later.”

  “You can tell me anything, friend.”

  “The time machine contains a log that tracks how and when it is used. It tracks markers in the stream of time that make it possible to find someone who is lost or unable to return on their own. I wanted you to know this because there was a trip taken that the log never tracked.”

  Roger sat expressionless as he feared he might have to explain why the time machine was used without Archer's knowledge.

  “You see, Roger, I used the time machine a few weeks ago. I'll be honest and tell you what happened but you need to know that it was only out of curiosity. I never would have betrayed your trust if it wasn't for all the negative talk from the crew.”

  “What talk?” Roger asked.

  “My team, when they stop talking shop, tends to complain and paint a negative view of the future they all hold – almost like they're hiding something from me. I grew scared and wanted to know what the future holds for us. What I saw frightened me. A thousand years from now, the earth is just a desolate rock; I saw no people, no animals, and no life at all save a measly cockroach! All my life I've known of man's tendency to corrupt, but there has to be a better way.”

  “That's why this mission is so important, Doctor. When we bring back what the future knows and apply it here, the world will be forced to see that all of our worst nightmares don't have to come true.”

  “And it was that notion that's kept me on course these past couple weeks.”

  Roger sensed the amount of guilt his friend carried over his secret, so he reached out and placed his hand on Archer's shoulder. “Rest assured I'm not mad at you. As for the crew, I know they can be a little negative about humanity's current direction – it's one of the motivators for bringing about change. Some of them, scared of what you saw becoming a reality, have suggested replacing the whole system.” Roger watched Archer's reaction carefully, as this was not the first time the organization's true mission was hypothetically suggested.

  Archer shook his head in disagreement. “I think the expedition to find advanced knowledge is the best course. The apathy in the world doesn't require starting over; it needs a jump start.”

  “I admire your optimism, Doctor. I'm hopeful for that result or else I wouldn't have funded this operation. My only real reason for secrecy goes back to what I told you the day we met: the governments of the world would never permit us to travel through time if they knew it was possible. Most likely, the very presence of such an invention would trigger a world war. Given the war going on now, the last thing the world needs is more fuel on the proverbial fire.

  “And I appreciate you telling me of your little side adventure. If nothing else, I hope it has helped spur you on to the goal.”

  Archer finally smiled. “It has actually. I feel ready to begin, as long as you're happy with the experts we've got now.”

  “Our success depends very much on the expedition team, and I think the fifty teams of two, each from their respective fields of expertise, are well equipped to find what the rest of us need.”

  “Good. Then I'll start making preparations.”

  Only a few months after John Archer was fired by his homeland's government, he stood a hundred meters beneath the surface of the ocean on a deck of a rig he now called home. In front of him stood the craft that could send him to prison for the rest of his life if his connection to it was ever revealed. The ship contained, at its heart (and its very reason for existence), the device that would soon change the course of humanity.

  Roger and the ship's crew had come for the grand tour. The ship took up most of the hanger that was built for its construction. It resembled in shape a stealth fighter jet, but it was many times its size. Roger, although present for nearly every day of its assembly, still stood in awe of its completion.

  As Archer presented the craft to everyone in attendance – the crew of the decks, Roger, and (unknown to Archer) all of the celibates except Val – it was evident he took great pride in the work he had done. The vessel was cramped, as everyone had come to expect since the very platform they lived on was exceedingly cozy, but there still seemed to be plenty of room for the crew to mingle about.

  The craft was two stories tall, with each floor of the vessel serving a very specific purpose. The top floor existed for the crew of the ship only, while the bottom floor was mainly for the use of the civilians. The one peculiarity of the bottom floor that surprised only Archer when the request was made was that there were no separate rooms or showers for men and women. There were exactly twenty-one rooms on the top floor for the celibates; each room had a door with a lock and its own bathroom. Not so the bottom floor, which Roger insisted be kept open. The only doors were to be on the bathroom stalls. This was clearly for the purpose of encouraging procreation, a process more likely if the men and women were given little to no personal privacy.

  The command center of the ship was one of the only rooms with a view. From the bridge of the vessel, all corners of the craft could be monitored – with the exception of one room, which Roger demanded contain no surveillance equipment. He never gave Archer a reason, and Archer never asked.

  Archer watched nervously as Roger sat in the captain's chair on the bridge and surveyed the vessel.

  “You've truly outdone yourself, Doctor,” he finally said, to which Archer finally relaxed.

  “I do have one other matter we'll need to discuss, but it's one we should probably have alone.”

  “Understood,” Roger replied. To the crew: “You're all free to leave. Thank you all for your time.”

  Once the ship was empty besides Archer and Roger, Archer sat down at one of the communication stations on the bridge. “We need a place to hide this thing.”

  Roger nodded as though he was prepared for Archer's complaint. “Are you concerned for the ship's safety?”

  “Well, an object this big can cause a pretty catastrophic temporal wake as it enters the stream of time. It would probably be better to leave this time from an isolated location.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Well, the best place would be on the ocean floor.”

  Roger shook his head. “Unless you've built a submersible as well, I don't see how that could work.”

  Archer reached into his pocket and removed a small device that looked like a wristwatch. He tossed it to Roger, which made him flinch. “This is better than a sub.”

  “What does it do?” Roger asked.

  “In a nutshell, it's a transpor
t device. Remember how I mentioned travel through space at great speed as well as time?”

  Roger nodded as he fastened it on his wrist.

  “This device, once placed on your wrist, marries itself to your DNA and allows you to transport to any location on earth – well, it might work elsewhere, we've only tried it on Earth.”

  “Hm,” Roger muttered as he played with the device without pushing any buttons. “Then the bottom of the ocean it is.”

  “Good. I'll start making one of those for everybody on-board.” Archer got up and ran off the bridge of the ship with more excitement than Roger had seen from him in weeks. Roger took the device off his wrist and put it in his pocket. Before he left the bridge, he looked at the picture of Jennifer he carried everywhere. One step closer.

  Val stood bundled in a heavy coat and wool blanket on the deck of the organization's base. The moon was out and reflected off the ocean surface like a mirror. A moment later, she was joined by Roger, who was just as prepared for the cold night air as she was.

  “Sorry for all the secrecy,” Roger said.

  “Oh, it's fine,” she said. “I was just in my room, thinking: 'What a warm, luxurious bath this is! Boy, would I like to stand in the middle of the ocean instead!'” She laughed and nudged Roger in the arm.

  “Val, I'm truly sorry for all this. I know since you've been here, you've been desperate to help me in some way. Well, the time has come. I have a big mission for you.”

  “I'm ready, sir.”

  “Good, because this is probably the most important part of the entire goal. I need you to bring back the weapon.”

  “What weapon? The weapon?”

  Roger nodded. “We've only made one trip into the future so far and it was to secure the weapons I showed you earlier. Now, I need you to take one of those guns, acquire the weapon, and come back.”

  “Why right now?”

  “Because Archer is busy with a side-project and I want plenty of time to erase the log before he returns in the morning.”

  “How will I know where to look?”

  “Well, think of where such a weapon would be kept in our time? It will probably be in the same place. Take as much time as you need there. If it takes you a year to finish your mission, take two years. Just be back here a moment after you leave.”

  “How will I get back?”

  “I'm giving you a remote device that Archer designed.” He handed her the wrist teleporter. “It will not only allow you to move through space but through time as well; and to return to this time. I've already had it synced to the time machine. Once you put it on, it will track your DNA and let you travel wherever – and whenever – you wish.”

  She took the teleporter and fastened it to her wrist. “Any side effects I need to worry about?”

  “No,” he said, “the FDA hasn't approved it yet.”

  She smirked. “And limitations?”

  “Not that Archer has found. Supposedly, it will work wherever you want it to. He did say anywhere on earth, but he's confident it should work elsewhere.”

  “I suppose that's as comforting an answer I can expect for a prototype.”

  “Quite right, my dear. Mark the date and time in your device. If you are not back within the hour – my time - I will assume you've been lost.” He put his hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. “Please don't let that happen.”

  She nodded. Before he could say another word, she was gone.

  Roger stood on the deck of his floating fortress for only one minute before Val returned. When she did, it took Roger by surprise – not because of the brevity of her journey, which he expected to be relative, but because he was not prepared for what he now saw.

  Val lay collapsed on the deck out of breath and shivering. Her hair was about six inches longer than when she left and it was now a rich, dark red. Her clothing was different, revealing how much fashion would change over the next century. When she coughed, her voice sounded huskier, like she had taken up smoking. Part of Roger knew the possibility existed for Val's mission to take more than a couple of days, but given her appearance she looked as though she may have been gone as much as a year.

  “I didn't get it,” she said under her breath.

  “Are you all right?” Roger drew close to her and took his coat off; he wrapped it around his proudest assistant. A moment later, she sat up and put her head in her hands. She could sense Roger was waiting for an explanation as he crouched nearby, but her head ached too much to talk. Finally, the pain from using the teleporter subsided and she was able to stand.

  “I'll tell you everything,” she said, “but first I need a bath.”

  “Sure,” he said. He wrapped his arm around her for support and helped her to her room.

  Once in her quarters, Roger sat on a chair by the bed while Val disappeared into the bathroom. The tub's faucet started a moment later.

  After a short while, he heard the door open. Val emerged from the bathroom completely naked and searched through her dresser for clothes to wear. Roger, surprised by her uninhibitedness, tried to look the other way. She noticed his discomfort but paid it no mind.

  “It'd been a long two years, Roger,” she said. She finally grabbed a pair of panties, a bra, a pair of slacks, and a blouse from the dresser and threw it on the bed. Instead of dressing, however, she jumped into the bed and began grooming, still ignoring Roger's clear signs of discomfort.

  “I can come back later,” he offered.

  Ignoring him, she continued: “I found out where the weapon is. Funny, how Archer suggested the teleporter would only work on earth; he was right. The weapon is on the moon, in an underground bunker.”

  “I assume it's heavily-guarded, then?”

  “Surprisingly no,” she said as she clipped her toenails. “Travel to the moon is mostly restricted, which is why I couldn't get there. We'll need to get Archer to modify this thing to travel anywhere.”

  “Val,” he said, trying to steal her attention from her feet, “what happened to you?”

  She smiled a bit since she expected him to notice how she changed. “Is my body that distracting for you?”

  “Well, no,” he said, “this is your room. Dress how you want. I meant something else actually. You seem different somehow.”

  “If you saw what I did, you'd know why,” she said with no emotion.

  “Tell me.”

  “If there was any doubt in my mind before whether destroying humanity and starting over was actually necessary, it's gone now. The world will get so much worse if we don't intervene. If I didn't know you better, I'd say you are psychic.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Roger,” she said as she shifted to brushing her hair, “I want you to guess how many people will die from war and starvation in the next hundred years.”

  “I wouldn't begin to speculate.”

  “Over four billion – even more from a new biological weapon they design twenty years from now. The good thing, if you can call it that, is that they've cured all forms of infertility so there were plenty of extra people to die. Almost twelve billion by the end of the century.”

  “Twelve billion?”

  “And it only got worse by the time I arrived. Do you realize how long it took just for me to get a job?” she said, changing subjects suddenly.

  “Why did you get a job?”

  “Because there was no way I was going to learn anything poor. The one thing I didn't have a hard time learning about was the weapon. Everyone knew about it, and everyone knew where it was. But no one knew how to get to it. That's what took so long.”

  “So, what did you end up doing for work?”

  She finished grooming and began getting dressed. “I ended up doing what I spent my whole life here avoiding – the opposite of what I'm doing now,” she said, putting on her bra.

  “You were a dancer?” he exclaimed.

  “And a good one too. I made enough money in three months to buy my own shuttle to the moon!”
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  “What took you so long getting back, then?”

  “As ashamed I am of admitting it, it was actually a lot of fun. I hope you don't mind if I indulged myself a bit. I know we have work to do, but I figured 'what's the harm', right?”

  He chuckled. “I suppose nothing. As long as you got it out of your system, my dear. After all, you're destined to remain celibate.”

  She slid her pants and blouse on and affixed her hair into a ponytail. “That was actually my motivator. And yes, it's all out of my system.”

  “Good. I imagine you're hungry?”

  “I'm starving,” she said.