Time Agency

by Aaron Frale

  “Plenty of people travel to the future.”

  “Name one.”

  The little shit was good with words and an asshole. She worked in a department specifically focused on the past. There was a department that worked on the future, but she never needed to exchange information with them. So while she could not name a person who traveled to the future off hand, the department existed, so there had to be people working there. The problem with secret government organizations was that they didn't have a directory, at least at her clearance level. The only way to contact a person from the future department would be a formal request to her supervisor. Her supervisor wouldn't think putting a smug asshole in his place was a good enough reason for the contact request.

  “Our society needs to change,” he said on a more serious note. He was on the borderline of discourse and the talk of a madman.

  “Society has changed. We used to classify second class citizens based on skin color. Then the second class citizens were based on sexual preference. Then the lack of intelligence. Then the lack of wealth. But with each adaptation, society grew and accepted. Eventually, there were no second class citizens. It got better. There is no reason to change the past.”

  “So why can’t we go to the future?”

  She didn’t have a response for him. She had never been to the future. The time travel laws strictly prohibited traveling to the future without the right approvals. In fact, travel to the future was locked so tightly that her department’s nanomachines didn’t even have the ability built into their program. But it never bothered her. Her focus was the past. She enjoyed the past more. Come to think of it. She was one of the few humans alive with the authority to time travel at will. Even 07760, who time traveled for a career, had to have every aspect of his time travel carefully logged and authorized.

  Despite the tight controls, anyone could get authorization for the past. Authorization for travel to the early days of humanity wasn’t hard. Families vacationed in the past. Students would take classes in the past. There were slews of time travelers. If a person was a good standing citizen, they could travel. If a citizen had never compromised history, they always got approval. But every trip was approved and recorded. And if a trip was denied, a citizen could do nothing to reverse the denial. In a sense, the government controlled time travel. Even private companies offering vacation packages had to get approval. Approval seemed so easy to get that she never really thought of it.

  In the ancient days, people used to have passports for international travel. They would get stamps to approve entering the country. For some countries, it was so easy to get approval that the travelers wondered why it was necessary to get a stamp at all. Time travel worked the same way. Because she was such a good citizen, she didn’t think about all the steps involved. And because she was never denied, she thought it was easy. She supposed a person being denied their approval would feel frustrated by the process, but she sensed 07760 was more than just frustrated by a denial.

  “I haven’t been to the future,” she said after a while.

  “You should try it sometimes,” he said.

  She stared at him and then looked down at the table. While she may have never met anyone who traveled to the future, she knew people did. It was like international travel—just because she never met a person who traveled to a particular country didn't mean that no one had ever traveled to that country. 07760 was making some strong claims. Perhaps he was denied travel to the future, so he had made assumptions that his experience was the same as everybody else. People often made assumptions that their personal story or the personal story of someone they knew was the rule when it could be the exception. She doubted his belief was such simple flawed logic. He seemed too determined in his convictions to be fueled by mere irritation.

  She had assumed the reason she didn't hear about the future was that it was like her era of time. Once humans achieved the perfect society, they would exist continually. Going to the future would be like going to the same vacation spot over and over. She assumed that all the excitement was in the past. Humans struggled to grow beyond their primitive society. The struggle was the exciting part of time travel. A society with no crime, hunger, or conflict is not exciting. She knew that all she needed to do was find a future traveler to prove 07760 wrong. But she felt her time would be wasted. He believed it with the fervor of religious zeal. People could never be reasoned out of religious convictions. She knew his. He was a zealot and barely worth her time. Zealots only gained power when people listened to them.

  She decided he was no longer worth the effort. He was probably a little mentally damaged to begin with because he risked becoming a “lost” by talking with his past self. But to do it in such an important time period was lunacy. He had to have known that he would be caught. She mentally scheduled a scan for his brain. While he didn't commit a crime, she did have the authority to send people to a brain scan if she felt they were mentally unstable. Mentally unstable time travelers were too dangerous to be let free without a checkup. He would be scanned. If the scan revealed criminal intent, he would be reprogrammed. The case was solved.

  Event 9 - R

  I decided to get a new hotel room because I needed a place to take the mint. The “cards of any credit” changed at my will. I thought of the card I needed, and the blank white card would morph into my desire. The name could change, but my picture never did. The picture was always my current face. I thought that if I changed the name each time I paid, the police would have trouble tracking me down. I didn’t account for the fact that they would be doing facial recognition searches and not name searches.

  I sat on the bed and rolled the mint in my hand. It was a message from my pre-wipe self who knew about the wipe. I felt that if I took the mint and heard what my pre-wipe self would say, I had to accept my fate. Right now, I had pretty good access to resources. Though the resources would only last so long. Whoever was chasing me would find a way to trace the transactions from the cards. If I used the resources wisely and ditched the cards, I could probably disappear. If I bought one high-ticket item with the card and then sold it for cash, I could find some house in the middle of nowhere and retire, but I couldn’t spend my life not knowing.

  This time, I was prepared for its effects. My head was on the pillow. The door was locked and secured. I bit into the mint. The world faded out and faded back into an apartment with nothing but a couch and a bookshelf. The walls were devoid of anything including a door leading to the room. There weren’t even the bumps on the wall from the texture of the paint. The walls were perfectly smooth and gray. It was a gray box, and I was sitting on the couch without any hint of claustrophobia. The couch was soft and very comfortable. It was blue and made of a substance I didn’t quite make out.

  “Mirror,” I said. A tendril morphed from the couch and displayed my face. The face looking back at me was the same age as me. It was very strange like I was watching a movie of myself. Memory playback is disconcerting because it feels like you are living the memory when in reality, it’s only a recording. I couldn’t turn my head unless I turned my head in the memory. I was stuck with the point of view my other self had while making the memory.

  I looked right at myself and said, “This is probably pretty weird talking to yourself like this, but as you know, they are coming to wipe my memory. You are probably wondering why I don’t just think the message.” I was actually wondering why my past self didn’t explain who “they” were.

  “The memory mints don’t record thought.” My face in the mirror continued. “Your thoughts are your own, and my thoughts are my own. The memory mints only record what we see, hear, touch, and smell. The thoughts you are experiencing were not the thoughts in your head at the time of the memory.”

  I couldn’t shake the weird vibe I was receiving from the experience. The night before while lying in the old hotel bed unable to sleep, I saw a bad horror movie about a guy who went crazy. The person he saw in the mirror was the psychopathic side of
his personality. There was a scene where he argued with himself. I couldn’t help but laugh. It was just too funny. Now, I kind of understood what the character was going through because seeing myself was too off-putting.

  My memory continued speaking to me. “So this memory won't last long enough for me to explain everything. I also don't have enough time because the agency is coming for me. They will wipe my memory and plant a new set of memories into me. That's how they punish crime in our time. They turn you into something you’re not. I need you to carry on the fight. It’s too important.”

  I was a little frustrated with myself because I felt I was a little vague. And I felt if I had been the one who left a message for myself, I would be as specific as I possibly could. Maybe I was just an insufferable asshole before my memory wipe. The historian part of me wanted some time to study each version of me. I would be interested to know how much of my personality changed from a memory wipe.

  People’s personalities seemed to be molded from several sources. Experience was a big part in shaping personality. Survivors of traumatic events suffered from personality disorders. A teacher could build or break confidence. People close to an individual would also shape personality. But there was also the element of choice. Decisions to join certain groups or take responsibility also played into experience. In essence, experience played a large role in shaping how people acted. But experience was just a part of personality.

  Genetics played another important part. Some people were predisposed to being unhappy merely because the chemicals in the brain involving happiness were deficient. While those with deficiencies certainly had the choice to make decisions that would lead to an overall greater happiness, they would be predisposed to making self-destructive decisions because of the chemical deficiency. Experience and genetic makeup also shaped personality.

  The third part that shaped personality wasn’t easy to identify. Religions attempted to explain the mysterious part of personality through various mystical means. If a person found familiarity with a city they never visited, a religious viewpoint could use reincarnation to explain the event—the person was familiar with the city because they lived there in a past life. Science would explain the déjà vu as the subconscious and say the person saw the city in a book when they were young. Other religions would explain the mystery with the concept of a soul. Personality was shaped by experience, genetics, and a third more mysterious part of the human psyche.

  My memory spoke again. “You know, I hate mints too, but I didn’t have much of a choice for stolen tech. Each capsule has a limited memory capacity. It can only record so much and replay so much. The future is not what it seems. I know you are thinking, “Be specific asshole.” But anyone could view this memory. So you need to listen carefully. Think about what your eyes see and more importantly, what they don’t. When you look at a bookshelf like the one here, your eyes see every single title. Your brain, however, doesn’t notice the titles that quickly. In your first glance, you’ll notice a couple. If you spend more time looking at the shelf, you’ll notice more. If you study the shelf and memorize every book title, you’ll notice them all. So even though in the first glance every title was visible, there are only a few that pop out. Those ones which pop out stick in your brain.”

  I concentrated on the bookshelf. It was stuffed with books. The books were all hardbound with dust jackets. They looked like they had been well maintained or possibly were reproductions. And true to my memory’s word, at first, I only saw a few titles. Most were various old physics books by Stephen Hawking and Brian Greene to newer titles about time travel. I could not possibly see them all. “Think about it because this is something only I would get, and you need to understand.”

  I wanted to slap myself, but the memory was in playback mode. It was like I was a floating soul in someone else’s body with only the ability to watch. So I couldn’t explain to myself that if I didn’t remember my experiences, there may be the possibility that I’d never understand. Did he expect me to have my memories by this point? I know he was leaving me a message in the titles of the books, but I wasn’t getting the message.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help, but they’ll scan me. They will dissect this memory. They will categorize every book title and try to find the pattern. Only you will be able to figure it out.” I could see tears welling up in the memory of myself. A dark expression fell on his face. He looked toward a door that appeared on the wall. “They’re here…”

  My earlier self pulled out the mint package and exposed the device hidden within. He looked me in the eye using the mirror. The memory faded from view. For a brief moment, I felt that I was falling. I wasn’t in any place or time. I was just falling.

  Event 7 - J

  Jerry’s escape into the daylight was short lived. He made it to the surface of the city and saw his face everywhere. Every advertisement, billboard, cell phone, and anything else with a screen flashed his face. The picture the police used was from a security camera, so the quality wasn’t clear. He had the advantage that he was messy, covered with blood and disheveled in the police footage. Now he was clean and well groomed. It was like his body had a self cleaning cycle. People had to look closely to associate him with the man in the photo. The longer he lingered, the more chance a person would link him to the person in the police alerts.

  He surfaced from the subway system and didn't get more than a few blocks before a police vehicle arrived where he emerged. He pushed through the crowds of people on the streets. He risked a look back. The people interviewed by the police pointed in his direction. He ducked into an alley. Hopefully, his reaction was quicker than the police. It wouldn't take long for them to discover him.

  He checked all of his pockets. He had nothing but a gun. He considered ditching the gun but decided to keep it. He was already wanted for murder and having a weapon couldn't make the situation worse. Though he was beginning to think his choice of alley was worse. It was small and had only two doors. One was locked. The other opened before he could try the handle.

  A small old Chinese man was surprised to see him. The old man sized Jerry up. “You in trouble?” the old man said.

  “Can I come in?” Jerry said. The police were close. They would come into the alleyway at any moment. “I don't have much time.”

  “You have gun,” he said.

  “I don't plan to use it.”

  “I want it. Give me gun and I help.”

  “It's yours.” Jerry handed the gun to the old man.

  “Come in. Hurry,” the old man said. Jerry was herded into a storage room for a Chinese restaurant. There were loads of boxes with Asian and English lettering. An old Chinese woman entered the room.

  “Who that?” the woman inquired.

  The Chinese man said something in Chinese, and the woman ushered Jerry forward. He handed her the gun.

  “Hurry. Hurry,” she whispered, and Jerry went into a kitchen. A young man was cooking something in a gleaming wok. The old man hung back in the storage room. Jerry heard the police enter, and the old man screamed at them in Chinese.

  “Hurry!” she yelled more forcefully. The cook left the food burning on the wok, and he pushed a stainless steel countertop on wheels to the side. There was a trap door under the counter. The young man motioned Jerry down an old wooden ladder. The old woman passed the gun to the young man and joined the yelling in the back. Jerry didn’t think twice. He climbed down the ladder. The darkness came very quickly as the trap door was shut, and he heard the counter being pushed back into place. The young man’s footsteps stomped the opposite direction from the screaming in the back.

  The room was dark and cavernous. Jerry’s night vision switched on fairly quickly, and he saw there was a bunch of old equipment in the room. It was an old beer brewing facility. Dusty casks lined the walls. And old bottle sterilizing device and dusty wooden tables filled the emptiness. Several large bins labeled hops and barley were on a shelf. The equipment had not been used in ages, but the room
did have evidence of human inhabitants. Lots of footprints disturbed the dust on the floor. A small child’s handprint could be seen in the dust on one of the tables. A quiet settled over the room.

  The yelling in the back ceased. Jerry waited. He heard footsteps in the kitchen above. The wok sizzled like it was burning. The footsteps walked over to the stove. There was a click followed by the sound of a fire extinguisher. Jerry held his breath. A man’s voice crackled on the radio. “The couple seems to be the only people back here. What’s your situation?”

  “Right… Just some patrons in the dining room. Better call in a unit to secure the place. Watch the guests, and I’ll check the bathroom,” the voice said overhead.

  “Copy that.” The radio crackled.

  Jerry froze as a hand came from nowhere and wrapped around his mouth. He almost screamed when he noticed it was the young man from upstairs. The man took his hand from Jerry’s mouth and waved Jerry towards the rear of the room. Under the table with the row of casks, was a tunnel. The young man climbed silently into the hole and motioned Jerry to follow.

  A radio voice crackled from above. “This is 3431. The area is secure. None of the patrons have seen the suspect.”

  The radio responded. “Roger that. Keep the couple for questioning. We are checking the other businesses now. The street cameras confirm no one exited or entered the building during the hot time frame. He couldn’t have disappeared in that alley.”

  “Maybe the witnesses were mistaken.”

  “The street cameras confirmed. The suspect entered the alley at 9:16.”

  “Then where the hell did he go?”

  “We’ll tear the place apart to find out.”

  The cook grabbed Jerry by the collar and pulled him into the tunnel.

  Event 10 – R