Time Agency

by Aaron Frale

  He jogged without any loss of lung power. His body ached, and the cuts stung. The darkness began to feel crushing. He felt a wave of panic threatening to overcome his senses. A wave of nausea flooded his innards. The walls were closing, and he heard the distant blow of a subway whistle. The train was coming. He looked for anywhere to hide, but the walls fit a subway car like a glove. Unless he could flatten himself on the walls, he would be torn apart by the car. He thought about laying on the tracks and waiting for the car to pass over him, but he didn't think there was enough clearance. He rekindled his sprint and ran as fast as his lungs will let him. If he tripped now, he'd be dead. He began to feel the rumble of the oncoming subway car.

  His lungs began to burn. He finally pushed himself to the limit, and the fatigue started to overcome his body. His heart threatened to pound out of his chest. The rumble became louder. He rounded a corner and saw light. There was a stop ahead. With lungs on fire and a heart that felt it was about to give out, his body screamed. Cuts and bruises pulled him apart. The adrenaline shot through his body and deadened the pain. A light of a subway car began to fill the tunnel behind him.

  The commuters waiting for the train were startled as he burst forth from the tunnel. People screamed and pointed. The crowd gawked and stared. They pulled out their phones and began to record the incident. Jerry noticed how people’s first reaction was to document rather than help. The horn of the oncoming train blared and yanked the thought from his head. The train was visible now. He was seconds from getting crushed. He used all of his last might to jump to the edge of the platform. He didn't quite make it and held on the edge with his last remaining strength. He attempted to pull himself up. The train screeched to a halt as the driver slammed the breaks. A wave of panic washed over the onlookers. One man, one anonymous man, grabbed Jerry and pulled him onto the platform as the train shrieked by. The crowd sighed with relief, clapped, and cheered.

  Jerry puked and spat up blood. The anonymous man had disappeared before the crowd drew close. A businesswoman patted Jerry on the back. He regained his breath as the people stuck their phones into his face. Some others shooed the crowd away to give him space. After he somewhat recovered, Jerry looked down at his clothes. A lot of the blood was gone. His clothes had cleaned themselves. He felt his hair, and it felt combed.

  Jerry looked up at the crowd. They took a step back. Their expressions turned from pity to fear. Even the woman patting his back moved her hand away. On several monitors built into support beams, there was a security alert. Jerry's 3-D imaged face rotated on the screen. Under his face, it was listed that he was wanted on suspicion of murder and the number to call with information. One person from the crowd began to dial their phone. Jerry jumped to his feet and pushed himself out of the crowd toward the exit.

  Event 8 – R

  I didn’t have much time to find the train station. The police would watch the security footage from the bookstore. Being arrested would give a time traveler a time, date, and private location to find me. The people from the future were coming for me. I just didn’t know when or where. I needed to make it to the locker. There had to be something. At the worst, I’d be at a train station, and I would be able to hop a train out of the city. I could disappear in a small town.

  It took a couple of tries, but a person eventually was able to explain the location of the remodeled train station. I arrived at the station without incident. I made sure to watch for police while I walked. I still hadn’t figured out the well-dressed man’s stake, and whether or not he was an ally. The identical bookstore clerks and the fact that he was covered in blood made me doubt him. The fight with the well-dressed man was clunky. Again, I wished I were a secret agent. A historian wasn’t cut out for this work. I guess it’s too much to ask to be a ninja historian. I should have told my younger self to go to ninja school.

  The train station was old, very old. But it was restored to its former look. People bustled on their tasks. I glanced around the great chamber. There was a giant clock, ancient pillars, and tiles. The station looked like the set of a historical novel, but people and vendors mismatched the architecture to the era. It was like the people should be wearing top hats and walking with canes. Instead, they wore skirts and suits. They talked on phones and tapped on touchpads.

  The lockers were near the back. I pulled out the key and inspected it. There was no number on the key or at least anything to indicate what key went to what locker. I was half tempted to start testing out lockers when I saw a sign that said: “Locker Rental” and a bored employee. I approached the employee and proffered my key with a sheepish look. “Excuse me. I seem to have forgotten my locker number.”

  “ID?” The employee said.

  I pulled out the blank ID card from my wallet. Hopefully, it will be the right one. The clerk began to type on the computer when a security alert flashed on the screen and the monitors in the station. For a brief moment, I froze. I ran through all the exit possibilities in my head. I considered swiping the ID card from the employee. Instead, I decided to slip away while he was figuring it all out. The well-dressed man’s face appeared on the screen. He was wanted on suspicion of murder. I turned back to the clerk.

  “217,” the employee said, snapping me from my shock. I blinked a couple of times.

  “217,” he said again and handed me my ID, a little irritated. I took the card back from him and turned to leave. A thought crossed my mind, and I turned back to face him. He looked at me and said, “You know that guy?”

  “Who?” I said, slightly confused.

  “The killer.” He pointed to the security alert.

  “Oh...no,” I lied. “Sorry to bother you, but I had a hell of a week. This probably seems like a strange question, but when did I check out the locker?”

  “Don't you have the contract?” he said, irritated.

  “I lost it.”

  He grumbled and began typing again. He pulled out a device and looked at me expectantly. “Do you have a tablet or a phone?”

  “No.”

  I really upset him. He put the device back down and went back to his workstation. “I'll print it out again, but you signed a contract. It clearly outlines the terms. That's three days overage. You are paying for all of today even if you are not using it.”

  “I was supposed to come three days ago…” I asked. Three days was the extent of my memory and visit here.

  The employee rolled his eyes and shoved a pile of papers at me. “Yes, your card will be charged for three days of overage. You better clear out your crap today, or it will be four days.”

  “Thanks,” I said. The employee's voice trailed off as he berated me. I looked through the pile of papers he handed me. The papers were mostly legal garbage and disclaimers. The part about the late fee was highlighted. I had rented the locker ten days ago. There was a copy of my ID card with the papers, and the person who rented out the lockers certainly looked like me. I looked at the name on the card, John Johnson. Either my parents cursed me with the most generic name on the planet, or I had more proof that I wasn’t a secret agent. I cursed my pre-memory wipe self.

  I walked towards the lockers and found the rows in the teens. Locker 217 was far enough back that the only people who could observe me opening it would have to make an effort. Whatever was in it, I didn't want anyone to see me open it. The key fit perfectly. I twisted it, and the locker popped open. There was another briefcase inside.

  “Fuck me,” I yelled. A woman a few lockers down stared at me. I gave her a look, and she turned back to her business. The last thing I needed was some bullshit quantum lock and more questions than answers. I probably was an asshole and was just fucking with myself.

  Click.

  I opened the unlocked case. It opened just fine. Inside, there was a mint. I took the mint out and slipped it into the memory mint device. I checked for any onlookers. No one was looking. The woman had moved on, and the occasional person walking by probably wouldn’t notice much with a glance.


  After securing the mint in my pocket, I felt around the briefcase for anything else. It was empty. I shut the locker and turned into a security guard. The police had probably viewed the security footage, and now my face was on all the monitors.

  He smiled and said, “Not that I was snooping, but you can file a claim with the office if you think the contents of your briefcase was stolen.”

  “Oh no, I always keep an empty briefcase when I travel. It’s so I can fill it with gifts for my family,” I lied. Even though my nerves were attempting to climb out of my gut, I was able to push them to the recess of my mind and feign normalcy. The nuances of social interaction were always my strong point. I am probably this way because I used to talk my way out of fights from the schoolyard bullies.

  Another memory bubbled to the service. I remembered being in school, but it was a very different school, at least different from here. A kid pushed me, and I talked him down from a pummeling…the other kids… I lost the memory. The guard was talking to me.

  “What?” I said politely.

  “I wasn’t calling you old or anything. I noticed the paper contract. It’s all pay with your smartphone now. I don’t trust them. Whatever happened to credit cards?” he commented.

  “I love paper. I like the way it feels,” I said.

  “My grandmother said the same thing. That’s why you remind me of her. She always wants receipts printed out. The clerks would get so mad when they had to dust off the machines for her.”

  “Hey, it’s good chatting with you, but I have a train to catch,” I lied.

  “Oh yeah man. Need help finding it?” he said.

  “No,” I said. “I’ll be fine.” But I wasn’t sure what constituted as fine.

  Event 2 - N

  Nanette sat across the table from subject 07760. The interrogation room was doorless, windowless, and had nothing but a table and two chairs. He was not strapped to the chair. He was not what she expected. He was a historian, a loner, and incredibly smart. Her attempts to unnerve him didn’t go over very well. Normally, she would sit with an expressionless stare until the suspects talked just to fill the silence. Her recent case met her stare and did nothing. He was either completely comfortable with silence or crazy. She couldn’t figure out which.

  Most agents didn’t use interrogation rooms anymore. There were brain-scanning technologies to extract information. The brain was like any other device. It was a storage unit that held data and information. She could dive in at any time, but the process was quite painful for the subject. It would often stir memories not meant for the surface and cause discomfort. She liked giving them a chance to avoid the scan.

  She needed to ascertain whether or not he was a threat to society. Most people who crossed their own timelines just screwed it up for themselves, but when he went back, he didn’t screw up his timeline and didn’t cause any noticeable change, at least not yet. Her organization had a “pure” timeline ordinance. Killing Einstein would merely result in another person “discovering” relativity because relativity was a phenomenon that existed in the universe independent of the life and death of Einstein. Einstein was just the first person to connect the dots publically. It was her job to make sure the young Einstein didn't die because some nut job didn't get the memo about the inability to “uninvent” relativity. She protected people who weren't even aware they were in danger. The agency would try to leave the timeline as free of meddling from the future as possible.

  Sometimes, she couldn't prevent the meddling. Her most famous case was the man who killed Marinus van der Lubbe. He claimed Marinus van der Lubbe was the communist dictator of Germany who started World War II. Van der Lubbe crushed the rise of this party called the Nazis and gained power for himself. The time traveler only wanted to kill him before he gained power, so he helped Hitler from the Nazis frame him for a parliament fire. Hitler had van der Lubbe executed. If van der Lubbe was dead, the communists could never rise to power. Hitler rose to power instead and started World War II with the addition of mass genocide. History ended up being worse. People from the future couldn’t change World War II. It was like the world was ready to go to war, and if one person didn’t do it than someone else would step in and start a war. To make matters worse, she was unable to prevent his change. She tried to undo his change and failed. However, most of her superiors considered it a triumph because she caught the man from the future who helped Hitler and just accepted the change as part of doing business. She couldn't accept it but had to swallow her emotions anyway. Empathy was considered a hindrance in her line of work.

  The agency publicized the case as a triumph. Because most of the agency work was shrouded in secrecy, the agency gave out heroic stories to the public every so often to ease their fears. If the agency operated entirely in the shadows, the public would get nervous. However, if the agency picked a case here and there with a hero, the public would feel safe. What could be more heroic than bringing a “lost” who helped Hitler to justice? Nanette became a hero despite her disappointment in the inability to set the timeline straight. She had to bury the emotions and play the part. Without her and agents like her, people in the past would have no defense against a future conspiracy seeking to take advantage of them. Despite humans’ lack of ability to alter the timeline too much, people still attempted to try. She needed to determine if 07760 was one of those people. And even though it wasn’t apparent what 07760 intended to do, she needed to find out. That’s why hours earlier, she picked him up. It wasn't illegal to speak with a person’s self in the past. For the most part, people avoided it because attempts to alter personal timelines usually ended in disaster. But murdering, stealing, or taking advantage of the past was illegal. She needed to find out why this case came across her desk as a high priority.

  When Jerry and Nanette went to take the suspect into custody, 07760 didn’t act surprised. He simply let her take him in. Most people ran or complained about their rights, but rights sometimes needed to be sacrificed for the greater good. When people ran, they jumped time or attempted to hop on a transport. There would be a chase, and she would catch them. That’s why she was the best agent. She didn’t let cases go generational. She never failed. But in the case of 07760, it was way too easy. It was like he volunteered to be captured.

  Nanette buzzed 07760’s apartment notification system late last night. Doorbells were antiquated when people didn’t manufacture doors anymore. Apartment notification systems notified the owners that people wished to enter their space. When 07760 beckoned them to enter, they disappeared from Nanette’s office and reappeared in his apartment. 07760 sat in a minimal apartment on a transformable couch. The apartment was empty except a bookshelf and couch. 07760’s grayspace was completely wiped clean. It was almost as if he knew when they were coming to get him. The only words exchanged during the arrest were when he waived his right to representation.

  She realized that she would never gain the upper hand through a staring contest. She decided to let him win this round. The table lit up with a scene of 07760 engaging his double at the hotel. She looked for any emotion, and there was nothing coming from him. She chose her words carefully. “I assume you know why you are here?”

  “The real question is why are you here?” he retorted.

  She ignored the bait, “Normally, an encounter with a past self wouldn’t be a crime.”

  “So let me go.”

  “But the period you studied for your dissertation makes us very suspect of your motives.”

  “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “I have the authority to detain anyone indefinitely for any period of time if I feel they are threatening the timeline. I don’t think I’m premature to surmise that this meeting with your younger self threatens the timeline.”

  He shrugged.

  She continued. “What I don’t understand is what you attempted to do. I clearly see this meeting didn’t make you a ‘lost’ or give you a noticeable personal gain, so I have to assume you had other motives for t
alking to your younger self.”

  “Would you believe that I was looking for good conversation and what better conversation than myself?”

  “No more games. Why did you meet with your younger self?”

  “There you go. Using that younger self term again. How do you know I’m not the younger one, and the conversation hasn’t happened to me yet? What if it was that conversation that led me to this very moment?”

  The conversation was going nowhere. He was playing games with her. She decided to try a different tactic. “What was on the bookshelf in your apartment?”

  “Books,” he said.

  “They were blank. Merely covers and empty pages.”

  “I like to change the titles around for my guests. It’s decoration for those who like reading.”

  “No one reads anymore. We absorb.”

  “I was going to have a bunch of secret police histories when you got there.”

  “Your attempts at humor will gain you no tactical advantage here. Agents do not guide decision from flawed thinking such as emotion.”

  “So bribing you with beer won’t work?”

  “What did you tell yourself?”

  “The secrets to a really good home brew.”

  “I can see that you aren’t willing to talk. I was only giving you the chance to talk as a courtesy. We have much more evasive methods of acquiring information.”

  “You’re a puppet,” he said with conviction.

  “I protect.”

  “You’re a puppet to the government. You’ll just do what they say.”

  “Life is perfect.” She accepted the bait. Normally, she would never act so rash. But there was something about this person she found exceptionally irritating. “Humans want for nothing. They can achieve any potential. I protect those privileges.”

  “But they can’t travel to the future.”