by Wyatt Kane
The wizard grinned as he handed me my helmet. “Nice job, young Caleb.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.” I donned the helmet, turning it so it latched onto the suit. Immediately, a colorful in-suit display popped up, overlaying the visor. It displayed my oxygen levels, the temperature within and without, and my current state of health. Brilliant, I thought. I could watch what was happening to me at the moment of my death. Surprisingly, it was higher than I’d thought, at forty-six percent.
The wizard checked my seals, then put on his own helmet. I checked it in turn, and we stood at the door.
XIX
“Wait!” June said. “What about the oxygen in here?”
The wizard shook his head. “The van will keep the atmosphere in place for us to get outside and close the door.”
“How does that work?” I asked, suddenly interested. I couldn’t begin to envisage the physics required to make that possible.
“Would you like me to go make some tea so we can all sit around and chat about it?” the wizard asked sarcastically. “Or is it okay if we go kill this spider first?”
“No need to get snarky. We’re here because of you, remember?”
“You’re here at my invitation, yes, but I’d rather not have to stop to answer irrelevant questions every five minutes!”
I drew a deep breath. “What are we going to do, exactly?” I looked around for another tire iron. Something, anything, to fight the spider with.
“We’re going to go out there and kill it.”
“How?”
The wizard gave me one of those looks like he was wearing invisible bifocals, and shrugged. “However we can, of course.”
Right then, I understood that he didn’t have the slightest hint of a plan. Alarmed, I looked back at April and June, but they looked just as stunned as I did. With a sinking feeling, I knew we were going to die trapped on this moon with only a crazy old time-wizard to laugh over our corpses.
“Young Caleb—” he began.
“Stop calling me that!” I rounded on him. “What is it with you? Do you have a death wish?”
“If I did, I would have died millennia ago. Trust me, I’ve had plenty of opportunities.”
“It’s a wonder no one has helped you out,” I muttered. “You are absolutely the craziest person I’ve ever met.”
Incredibly, he grinned at me. “Maybe so. But we still have to go out there and kill this thing,” he said.
Even though I had half a mind to clunk him over the head and try to convince Shell to fly us away from there, I knew he was right. And besides, the AI had said she couldn’t fly the van. Whether she was lying or not, I didn’t want to find out. Not while the big hairy spider with a tail whip had us in its sights.
“However we can, huh?” I said.
“Yes.” The wizard apparently decided he’d said enough. He opened the door and jumped out. “Ladies, if you want to join, feel free.”
April was already fishing through the chest for another spacesuit, but June was standing with her arms crossed under breasts again.
I hopped out of the van and learned that the normalized gravity extended only as far as the atmosphere and no further. I basically bounced and flapped my arms like a chicken to avoid falling on my face. It was a giant leap that all mankind would not have been proud of.
But I got everything under control for my second touch, and tried not to think about the fact that only a dozen or so people had walked on the moon before me.
The spider was heading straight at us, its movements slow as it did its best to deal with the low gravity. It was maybe fifty feet away now, and its intentions were clear. It was no longer trying to run. Maybe it couldn’t. It wanted to fight.
The old wizard and I had precisely no weapons between us. Yet the old man didn’t back down and I would be damned if I was going to let him show more bravery than me.
I gritted my teeth, clenched my fists, and went out to meet it.
“Caleb!” April said in my helmet. Her voice was similar to June’s, but I could still tell them apart. “Wait!” she said.
I glanced back at the van and saw her in the process of putting on a suit. But I couldn’t wait. The monster was closing in fast. It was going to be up to the old man and me.
Thirty feet.
“Get ready, young Caleb,” said the wizard.
Twenty feet. I felt June’s discomfort. Not like I did before, not debilitating. It was still there, though.
Ten.
“Any time now, young Caleb,” said the wizard.
And all of a sudden, I saw something, and knew exactly what to do. The spear was still sticking out of the monster’s gut, and that was all I needed.
“Slow time!” I shouted. “Do it now!” I didn’t know for sure that the old man could duplicate my talent, but he’d said enough that I assumed he could. At the same time, I bent my own will to the task.
Given the trouble we’d had with it before, the end of the rhino-sized spider was almost anti-climactic. With the old man’s abilities added to my own, we slowed the bug-demon almost to a stop. I grabbed hold of the spear, yanked it out in one heave, then drove it back into the monster again and again.
It was dead before it could even react. Panting heavily in my space suit, I stood back to admire the corpse. With no bacteria or other micro-organisms on the moon, it would probably be there forever. Would some astronaut find it—as well as the spear—someday? Would future Moon colonists wonder what alien civilization had come before?
I thought briefly of burying it all in the moon dust, but decided against that pretty quickly. I didn’t know how much oxygen my suit had. And anyway, I liked the idea of leaving my mark on the moon.
I turned to the old man, feeling pleased with myself. But, with an expression of surprise on his face, visible through his helmet, the wizard vanished in front of my eyes.
“What the hell?” I said out loud.
<<<>>>
I was still swearing under my breath when I reached the van and closed the door behind me. “We killed the damn thing!” I said to Shell. “Why the hell did the old man vanish? Shouldn’t the timelines be more stable now?” I demanded.
“Sometimes, the timestreams remain crossed for some time, Caleb,” the AI replied. “He will find his way back. I hope.”
“You hope?” I echoed.
“This is a unique situation. I can calculate temporal probabilities and track multi-universal timelines, but the Wise One’s abilities are, by their intrinsic nature, beyond those calculations.” Shell had no shoulders, but she somehow managed to convey a shrug. “Yet I still believe he will return. Whether he does depends on you more than any other factor, and you have so far proven to be reliable in your actions.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just fumed to myself as I started to work my way out of my suit. The twins both helped as much as they could, and in minutes I stuffed the space suit into the laundry chest, where April had already stashed hers.
Then I asked the important question. “How do we get out of here?” I asked Shell.
“You’ll have to pilot the van, Caleb. First, though, let’s have a look at your stats.”
“Forget the fucking stats!” I shouted. I felt a wave of irritation from June as she moved up to the driver’s capsule. Without waiting for permission, she turned the key.
Nothing happened.
“Why isn’t this working?” she demanded.
“You are an augmenter,” Shell said. “You do not possess the type or degree of power required to pilot the time machine. Of the three of you, only young Caleb is powerful enough to do that.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” I asked. The AI and the old man both called me ‘young’ Caleb, and it was becoming annoying. “And I’m not exactly a vessel of unending power, either.”
“But you are.” Shell glowed brighter as she spoke, pulsing as if it were breathing.
“Try, Caleb,” said April.
Unle
ss we wanted to spend the rest of our lives stuck in a van on the moon, I didn’t see any other choice. June moved out of the way, and I settled myself into the cockpit.
Just as June had done, I turned the key. Again, nothing happened. Not even a click. It was as if the key was connected to nothing at all.
I pounded my fist on the wheel, blaring the horn. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit!” I looked around at the girls and saw their concern. They were thinking the same as me, that the old man had trapped us there on the moon.
Maybe Shell could convert the van into some sort of habitat where we could live for a while. But we still needed food and water to live. Could the AI conjure that from thin air?
“You must use your powers to move us,” Shell said. “Simply turning the key won’t do it. I would have thought you had understood that when June tried it.”
The AI made sense, but I didn’t exactly enjoy hearing it. “Smartass,” I grumbled under my breath.
I closed my eyes to help me focus. This time, I didn’t try to slow time, but instead simply reached out to time itself. At first, I felt nothing. Then, it was like time was fighting against me. It pushed and pulled me, spun me around. Eventually, I began to feel the current and to work with it rather than against it. It was like I was swimming, and soon, I did even more. I lifted myself up out of the sea of time to walk on top.
For the first time, it felt like Time itself was mine to control. It was a feeling I’d never had before, and I felt as if anything might be possible. Like I could reach out and touch any moment that had ever existed, like the multiverse itself was mine to behold.
That’s what it felt like, anyway. Really, all that happened was the Bedford started with its characteristic roar.
Just like that, all my doubts and worries faded away. “Where to?” I asked, grinning broadly.
“Home,” June and April said together.
“You hear that, Shell? Plot a course for Nowhere, USA, the same night we left, outside the Club.”
The AI did as I asked, and I pulled the lever just as the wizard had done. The van lurched forward, and I almost bashed my nose on the steering wheel. Then we were moving, transported once again into the glittering purple bubble of time.
I gave a whoop of triumph and then fell back against the seat.
Unfortunately, when we landed, the view outside was not as we expected.
This time, it was April’s turn to say it. “What the hell?”
XX
“No fucking way,” June breathed. I could feel her anxiety and knew it was completely justified. We’d been expecting to turn up in a drab but familiar world lit by the neon of the club. Instead, we were looking at a wasteland.
Nothing of the Good Times Club remained. The streets, the parking lot, even the surrounding buildings were in ruins.
“What happened?” April asked.
It looked like a war zone. By the light of the moon, we could see piles of rubble, fallen streetlamps, and cracked and broken concrete.
At first, nobody responded to April’s question. I spun in my seat and looked at the floating AI. “Shell, what the hell happened? Did we get the time wrong?” I didn’t want to think about any other possibility.
“Calculating,” she responded. “But the indicators are clear. This is the time and location specified. Given the Wise One’s latest disappearance and the obvious change in this time point, it is apparent that something has happened to disrupt the timeline.”
“No shit,” said April.
I felt a profound sense of disappointment. I’d been looking forward to a moment of normality, even if it was only temporary. And now that normality had been ripped away from us.
And it was more than that, too. I’d been thinking that the best time to take care of these bug demons was when they arrived. Before they could do any damage at all. But now it appeared we didn’t have that option at all.
Yet my disappointment was nothing compared to how June took the news. I felt her frustration like a ball of acid eating her up inside. She gave voice to an inarticulate cry and pulled the door open. Both April and I reached for her, but she shrugged us off and stepped out into the ruined landscape.
“June!” April said.
But the dark-haired sister didn’t go far. She just stood next to a pile of rubble and stared out into the night. I could feel her roiling emotions. Beyond her frustration, there was fear, resentment, and despondency. It was like she believed we were stuck, that we could never go back.
Maybe she was right.
April shot me a quick look.
I swore under my breath and turned to Shell. “What happened? What changed the timeline?” I asked. I knew even then that we had to fix it.
“I do not know. This timeline is still propagating. My sensors are as yet unable to accurately assimilate all variables, and as such I cannot extrapolate to find an answer. Initial calculations indicate that it is likely associated with the large insectoid that emerged from the rift at this point in time. Beyond that, I have only guesses.”
It wasn’t the response I was looking for. “How long might it take for you to come up with a better answer?”
“This appears to be a cataclysmic shift, with ongoing ramifications. The disruption itself is multivariate and cascading. There are alternate timelines spawning and respawning around a locus of instability, and each new timeline draws to a catastrophic end more swiftly than the last. This is hampering my efforts.”
The importance of the AI’s words took a moment to grasp. “Hold on. Are you saying that this time disruption is so major that the entire fabric of the universe is at stake?”
“Effectively, yes. If the disruption continues unchecked, it will warp the multiverse as a whole. If this becomes unsustainable—which the evidence suggests is no more than a matter of time—the results are inevitable and irreversible. Everything you have ever known will be as if it had never existed.”
I admit it. I might have let out a whimper. Shell’s words were terrifying, and I couldn’t help but look at the twins just outside the van. I’d only just started to get to know them….
I opened my mouth, but couldn’t form any words. So I coughed to clear my throat and tried again. “How long?”
“It may take a day or two to complete my calculations,” Shell said.
“No. How long have we got? Before the universe ends?”
“In this timeline, it will be more than several million years before the tear forms.”
I started to let out a let out a sigh of relief, but that relief was short-lived.
“Once the tear forms, it will work backward and forward through all of time, nullifying everything. For us, it will appear instantaneous.”
“What?” I blurted. “You’re saying it doesn’t matter when it forms, destruction will be instant if it does?”
“Yes.”
“Holy fuck,” I said, still struggling to comprehend it all.
“Yes,” Shell agreed.
In my mind, I imagined thousands of threads forming, timelines all, that were never supposed to be. I pictured them distorting the shape of the multiverse as a whole to the point where its fabric ripped open. And I imagined that singular tear turning the whole structure into dust.
Perhaps some timelines would remain unaffected. They might survive. But Shell seemed to believe this one, the one most important to me, would not be so lucky.
“How many more timelines can the multiverse sustain before tearing?” I asked, my mouth feeling unaccountably dry. “How long will it take the disruption to generate them? How long have we got?”
This time, Shell gave an answer I could use. “A matter of days,” she said.
I sat there in the back of the van, doing what I could to accept that the universe was indeed on the verge of ending. All of a sudden, I had more sympathy for the crazy guys with their signs of impending doom who wandered about in large, metropolitan areas. Who knew? Th
ey were actually right.
Or, maybe not quite.
“What can we do about it?” I asked.
“Once I locate the source of the disturbance, you must neutralize it.”
So, basically, I could do nothing until Shell finished her calculations. “And until then?”
“You will need to be as powerful as possible when you face this challenge. Bond with your augmenters. Become one with them. If you do not, none of us will survive.”
Once more, I looked at June and April out in the night. They were beautiful, and if I was honest, I already felt pretty close to both of them. April more than June, but I couldn’t help feel drawn to both.
I thought about what Shell had said, and nodded. I took a deep breath and held it. Then slowly let it out.
“Is it safe, here?” I asked, looking at the destruction. For all I knew, the entire area could have been awash with radiation.
“The radiation levels are higher than normal, but still within safe levels,” Shell replied. “I would not have allowed young June to open the door otherwise.”
Good to know, I thought.
With the fate of the known universe and beyond on my shoulders, I left the van and joined April and June.
XXI
The dark-haired twin was leaning her head on April’s shoulder. She seemed calmer than she’d been when we arrived, but still projected waves of disappointment and sadness. Both sisters turned toward me as I approached.
“Are you okay?” I asked June.
She nodded. “Yeah. Sorry,” she replied. “It’s just … I wanted to go home. I’m not like you and April. You seem to be fine with this mad careening through time to face giant bug-monsters from another dimension. I’m not so brave.”
When I’d first met June, I’d thought of her as angry and maybe a little cold. Now I was starting to think that might have been just a front.
I gave her a grin and a hug, which she returned without any hesitation. “It’s been an eventful couple of days,” I said. “And it isn’t like any of us turned up to work expecting anything like what happened. I think we’ve all done really well.”
