by Richard Todd
“Dial it back, all of you,” commanded General Craig. “The mission is not risk free. No special ops missions are.”
An awkward pause occupied the room.
“What’s TVA?” asked Kyle, changing the subject as he pointed to the TVA light cube.
Roger glanced at the general. The general nodded his approval to proceed.
“TVA stands for ‘Temporal Variance Alert,’” Roger said. “Using this temporal technology, we are able to establish a nexus between the history of this timeline and the new one you will create. Our historical databases will be synced to those in the new timeline. When our computers detect a variance in the historical record, it triggers the TVA alert. This lets us know that time has changed and will prompt my team to begin analyzing how it has changed.”
“I’m confused,” said Kyle. “If time changes, don’t the people in the complex change? Don’t their experiences and memories change? Does the Time Tunnel even exist in the new timeline?”
The general nodded to Gunther.
“That is an essential aspect of the mission,” explained Gunther. “You see, you and Colonel Wise are not the only ones who will be displaced in time.”
Time Tunnel Complex
Mission Control
July 23, 2008
17:35 hours
“You are precisely right, Colonel Mason,” said Gunther. “Assuming your mission succeeds, unless we somehow counteract the new timeline, everything about this complex will change the very moment you and Colonel Wise jump back in time.”
Gunther continued, “9/11 will not have happened in that timeline. The people who inhabit the complex will have different experiences than we do. Perhaps there will be less urgency to make that Time Tunnel operational. Perhaps the staffing of the complex will be different. Perhaps there will be no Time Tunnel at all—it may well be the case that the people who run the complex focus on weaponizing the Grays’ antimatter reactor instead of time travel. In any case, even if the Time Tunnel exists in that timeline, no one will remember sending you back in time and there will be no way to return home.”
“So, how do you counteract the timeline?” asked Kyle.
“At the precise moment you and Colonel Wise make your time jump, we will use the Time Tunnel to move this entire facility outside time,” answered Gunther.
“Wait a minute! What do you mean ‘outside time?’” asked Kyle.
“The Time Tunnel will shield the complex from the change in the timeline. Think of it as a temporal ‘bubble’ that surrounds the complex, enabling time to flow around it. This will block changes to our timeline, including changes to the facility and its inhabitants. That is how we retain our memories, our capacity to bring you home, as well as the ability to monitor changes in the timeline you will change,” explained Gunther.
“So that other Time Tunnel, the one that happens in a world without 9/11, that won’t exist?” asked Kyle.
“Oh no, that Time Tunnel will exist,” said Gunther. “It will occupy precisely the same physical space as the one we will. It will simply exist in a different time—the time in which you and Colonel Wise will reside for a few weeks until you complete your mission. It is the same time we all share today. However, from the moment you kill the first hijacker, the time we inhabit today will change forever. When you force that detour in the timeline, this facility will not turn onto that road. It will remain in this time, separate from the new one you create.”
Kyle felt like his head was going to explode.
“I’m very confused,” said Kyle.
“That is completely understandable,” said Gunther.
“So does this mean our complex will reside in the world where 9/11 happened?” asked Kyle.
“No,” answered Gunther uncomfortably. Gunther looked at the general for permission to continue. The general nodded.
“The complex will not reside in that world,” said Gunther. “You and Colonel Wise are ending that time and that world. The complex will not reside in any world.”
Kyle rocked back in his chair, stunned.
“Using the Time Tunnel, we will, in effect, create a parallel universe. However, while the conventional universe is 150 billion light years in diameter, our universe will only be about a mile wide. It will end at the vault door to the complex,” said Gunther. “There will be nothing beyond that door.”
“What do you mean, ‘nothing?’” asked Kyle.
“I mean absolutely nothing,” replied Gunther. “It is the same ‘nothing’ that exists outside the conventional universe.
“That’s why the complex is 100 percent self-contained,” said the general. “It’s also why it was designed to be a multi-generational facility. This is where we will spend the rest of our lives. It’s where our descendants will live out their lives as well.”
The team members seated around the conference table stared at Kyle as he absorbed the colossal scope of the revelation. They understood what Kyle was feeling. They had all experienced the very same jolt, as the shockwave of an incomprehensible reality hit them squarely in the face. Kyle looked at their faces, dead serious, realizing that each and every one of them had made the choice to spend the rest of their lives in a universe that measured only a mile in diameter. They would never swim in the ocean or feel the warmth of the sun again. A meal at their favorite neighborhood restaurant, a simple pleasure taken for granted by millions in the real world, would be completely beyond their reach.
The general studied Kyle’s face, as his expression moved from shock to regret and sadness. He had seen this progression countless times before.
“You understand the greater good here, right?” asked the general.
Padma’s face flashed in Kyle’s mind. Every person at the complex had a reason for being there. At last, Kyle understood why the general had recruited him for the mission.
“Yes sir. I do,” Kyle replied.
Time Tunnel Complex
Level 3
August 20, 2008
09:10 hours
Kyle walked along the gently curved hallway of Level 3 toward the sports complex. He was late for his sparring practice session with Annika. It was not his first time to be tardy for a mission training session.
Kyle had struggled to engage the training regimen. His thinking mind shouted all the valid reasons why he should commit fully to the mission and why he should be thrilled about this extraordinary opportunity. He was going to go back in time! He was going to fix everything!
He was going to go back in time! He was going to fix everything!
Even though his thinking mind kept repeating the mantra over and over, he still couldn’t fully engage. Something was stuck in his head. The passion required to be a special ops warrior was missing. Without it, Kyle drifted spiritlessly through preparation as if living a dull dream with washed out colors. Kyle didn’t understand. He was frustrated. The fire he had as a young Delta commando had been extinguished. For the first time in his life, he was a “C” student, disengaged, plodding forward without purpose.
His training sessions with Annika had been tortuous. Both of the temponauts were not only required to be in supreme physical condition, they needed to know every detail of the hijackers’ whereabouts and movements over the two months leading up to 9/11—hotels where they slept, restaurants where they dined, ATM machines they withdrew money from, prostitutes they hired. As mission commanding officer, Annika was in charge of training. Until the moment he began training with Annika, Kyle thought Delta Force was the toughest mental, physical and emotional training regimen on the planet. He was wrong. Annika Wise was a whole new breed of sadist.
Training began with a run at 06:00 hours and continued in the gym and classroom until late at night. No quarter was offered for mistakes, tardiness, or poor performance. It seemed to Kyle that the goal was not to train him, but instead to break him. In his foggy emotional state, he could not engage, he could not keep up. He fell further behind. Though Annika’s shock tactics woke him up temporari
ly, his increasing reaction to her brutal approach was to simply shut down.
Annika repeatedly went to the general, requesting that Kyle be replaced. Kyle was a burnout—understandable under the circumstances, though the mission demanded excellence. They did not have the luxury of coddling a PTSD case in the hope that he might recover and become the soldier he once was. Annika reminded the general of the stakes and how much responsibility weighed on this man’s shoulders.
Repeatedly, the general spun Annika around, reminding her that Kyle’s failure was hers as a commanding officer. She was livid with the impossible situation—caught between a burned out soldier and an unyielding general who refused to accept Kyle’s failure as the reality it was. Annika was convinced that the general’s faith in Kyle was misplaced and that he was jeopardizing the entire mission as a result. Yes, Kyle was a great soldier—once—though that soldier was long gone. This useless shell was all that remained.
Annika called Kyle to sparring practice, with the hope that changing up his daily training routine might produce signs of life from this total zombie of a warrior.
Kyle reached a large glass door etched “Sports Complex.” The door slid open to reveal a lobby with a smiling blond woman in her twenties sitting behind a charcoal counter.
“Hello Colonel Mason,” greeted the woman perkily. “Colonel Wise is waiting for you in Studio 6.”
“Of course she is,” Kyle thought.
Kyle walked down one of the sports complex’s many corridors toward Studio 6. Along the way, he passed several of the complex’s arenas, and spas. The complex was no neighborhood gym with a workout room, showers and sauna—it was a vast facility with accommodations for most sports. There was even a playing field with a cavernous ceiling with an LED blue sky for football, baseball, and soccer. As was the case with everything at the Time Tunnel, the sports complex was conceived to support the mission of keeping the tunnel’s denizens happy and performing at peak efficiency for decades—possibly even centuries. The tour added some unexpected color and wonderment to Kyle’s otherwise dreary dreamscape.
Kyle opened the glass door to the studio to find Annika waiting for him. The room was approximately 100 by 100 feet in size, with a 20-foot ceiling. The walls were a subtle cadet blue color. The floor was black firm rubber matting. Bright blue-white tinged LED lighting illuminated the room.
Annika was standing on one leg with the other propped on a balance bar on the side of the studio. She was wearing sweatpants and a sports bra top and was already gleaming with sweat from her warm up workout.
“Morning,” she said, glancing at the clock on wall.
“Morning,” Kyle replied. Kyle was surprised that Annika had not reprimanded him for his tardiness.
“Ready for a spar?” Annika asked.
“Sure—why not?” Kyle replied perfunctorily. Unlike Annika, his muscles were cold and stiff, but he was not feeling motivated to warm up. Besides, she didn’t look all that tough to him.
They both walked to a shelf with bright red sparring hand and ankle gloves and began strapping them on.
“Ready?” Annika asked.
“Good to go,” answered Kyle.
They walked to the center of the studio and assumed sparring positions with raised fists and locked eyes.
“Go,” said Annika.
Kyle threw a half-hearted punch at Annika’s face, which she easily deflected. He followed up with a lackadaisical roundhouse kick. Annika pushed it away with both hands, frustrated.
“Stop,” she said.
She stepped toward him, smiling fiendishly, “You’re pulling your punches because I’m a girl—or maybe because you’re sleepwalking—whatever. Let me help you with that.”
Annika punched Kyle hard in the nose. He could feel the crunch of his nose cartilage and a sudden explosion of pain. Before he could react, Annika followed up with a crisp sidekick to his gut, doubling him over. She leapt in the air and landed a flying kick to the back of the head, sending Kyle crashing to the floor like an old tree.
“Jesus!” he said, his nose dripping blood on the floor.
Kyle pulled himself off the mat. Annika saw the shock on his bloodied face. Kyle looked at her with a rush of feelings. His surprise and rage at being bushwhacked was charged with a jolt of awareness and purpose, as though Annika had electroshocked him out of a coma. His murky existence instantly crystallized into sharp relief—everything in the room seemed brighter, more colorful, more crisply defined. Annika saw the instant change in Kyle’s face and body. His eyes were wide, clear, and laser-focused on his target. She didn’t recognize the man standing in front of her. Startled at Kyle’s transformation, she paused for an instant.
Kyle exploited Annika’s lapse, spinning clockwise, and connecting a kick to Annika’s cheek, knocking her off her feet. She slapped the mat in frustration. It was rare for anyone to land a kick or punch on Annika, particularly someone as unfit as Kyle.
Where the fuck did that come from? thought Annika.
Incensed, Annika threw a flurry of punches to Kyle’s face and gut. Each time she hit his broken nose, an electric pain fired through his face and the back of his neck. Annika spun into a crescent kick, smacking Kyle on the side of the face, knocking him to the mat. Kyle pulled himself off the mat and launched into a flying front kick. Annika dove under Kyle, rolling on the mat to her feet and unloading a side kick into the base of his spine, knocking him onto the floor. When he pulled himself up, she didn’t wait for him to raise his hands before she pummeled him with punches to the face. Blood from his nose spattered on the two fighters.
Kyle was completely out of his league with Annika. He had never seen anyone throw punches as fast as hers—they landed before he saw her launch them. He fell to the mat again and again. Annika savored every moment of the beating she was giving the big bad Delta commando.
As Kyle began to get off the mat, he swept a roundhouse kick to the back of Annika’s legs, knocking her off her feet. She growled her frustration as she leapt to her feet, only to be knocked back to the floor with a side kick to her chest.
Enraged, she jumped to her feet. Before Kyle could land another kick, she flipped backward, smacking him on the jaw with her foot as her legs cartwheeled over. Annika followed up with a sequence of rapid-fire kicks and punches, overwhelming Kyle and landing him to the mat again. The match turned in Annika’s favor. Kyle rose to his feet more slowly. Annika spun like a tornado, smacking him on the temple with her foot and disorienting him. He fell to the mat again. As he rose, Annika punched him in the side of the face, splattering blood and sending him down again.
“Had enough?” Annika asked cheerfully, dancing on her feet while Kyle lay bleeding on the mat.
Kyle slowly pulled himself off the mat and raised his hands. Again, Annika smacked him to the floor. Again, Kyle crawled up from the floor. He could scarcely see through his swollen eyes. He was too exhausted to throw a serious punch or kick. Annika knocked him down again. Kyle staggered to his feet.
“Want some more?” Annika asked. “No problem. Here you go.”
Annika whacked Kyle on the side of the head with a roundhouse kick, sending him to the mat. Again, Kyle pulled himself off the floor.
“You’re beat! Give up!” screamed Annika, exasperated. No one had withstood this much punishment from her in a fight before.
Kyle shook his head and raised his hands to fight.
Annika cracked Kyle in the face with a flying sidekick, felling him again. Annika knew it was a reckless, potentially lethal kick. She didn’t care. Kyle was going to submit—no matter what the cost.
Yet again, Kyle climbed off the mat, stood up, and raised his hands.
“Give up!” screamed Annika, out of control. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”
Annika was shaking with rage. To her astonishment, she noticed that tears were streaming down her cheeks. Why was she crying? She covered her face with her gloved hands and began to sob. The only way she could beat this man would be to
kill him. She finally realized why the general had selected this mess of a soldier for the mission. No man could punch through her armor. He had instead stripped it from her. She was the superior fighter, but Kyle had defeated her—the first man to ever do so.
Annika could not stop the dark wellspring erupting from deep inside. Years of hurt packed inside her now rushed to the surface. She fell to her knees, crying. She cried out her bitterness about an Army that had stolen her childhood dreams. She cried out the pain she had buried with her dead husband. She didn’t know whether or not she loved him, but she knew he was a really good man who didn’t deserve to die. He hadn’t done anything wrong. It was unfair. What they did was unfair!
Kyle witnessed Annika’s breakdown, not knowing what to do. Until that moment, he hadn’t believed Annika was actually human, much less someone that he could feel sorry for. He realized that they had one thing in common—they were both wounded warriors, trying to maintain some semblance of sanity in a completely insane situation. Their mission was impossible. Their lives were impossible. Even if the mission succeeded, their best-case scenario was one in which another Kyle and another Annika lived happily ever after with their resurrected spouses. This Kyle and this Annika would never have that life. If they survived the mission, their world, for the rest of their days would be this artificial city—cocooned, not only from the world, but also from time itself.
