Time Traveller
You dial in your own timezone, trained fingers flying across the controls. When you throw the switch, your stomach turns somersaults and you feel nauseous as the machine slips between the facets of time and space. The probability matrix bends to the machine's will, the very threads of the universe reforming to allow its passage.
It comes down with such a bump that it tumbles over, stunning you as it hits the ground. With shaking hands, you heave the door open and clamber out into glaring bright light. You are...outside? That can't be right, you set it perfectly to arrive exactly when and where you left from.
You tumble off the machine into hot, steaming dust. A cockroach scuttles past you as you push yourself to your knees. As your eyes adjust, your breath catches in your throat.
Standing around you in a silent, glaring circle are twenty armed men in a uniform you have never seen before. Each of them carries an AK-47, all pointed at you.
"Welcome back," One of them says, stepping forward. He is smiling, but he rams a pistol into your stomach. You cough at the pain. "We've been expecting your return. Congratulations. You are the first person to travel through time. Unfortunately, your only audience is us."
Seemingly without an order being issued, two men step forward and wrench a sack over your head, binding your hands behind your back. You try to protest, but something slams into your mouth and you stagger, tasting blood.
Something must have happened in the past. Something changed. Who are these men and where is the laboratory? Why are your a prisoner?
Unfortunately, these are questions that will never be answered, as you hear a gunshot. Something hits your body hard, but there is no pain and it takes a moment to realise you have been shot. Feeling the strength leaving you as you drop to your knees, you gasp beneath your sack.
"Sky..." You murmur, hoping these men have some kind of mercy. It seems at least one does, as the sack is dragged from your head so that you can see the sky. It seems impossibly blue.
You watch the sky grow dimmer as you lie there, relieved that there is no pain. Eventually, the sky turns to black and you feel the last of your life seep away.
For an uninterminable amount of time, there is nothing. Then, from the oblivion you hear a voice.
"You fools..." It says, "You meddle with what you cannot control." There is a sound like someone sighing. "Things must be fixed, but the same mistake cannot happen again."
The voice fades. You shake your head, confused. You are sitting in a leather chair, your elbows on a black marble table. You are dressed in your robes of office. Strange, you must have fallen asleep. All the other politicians are looking at you, waiting for you to say something.
As you adjust your robes and clear your throat, beginning to address the assembled men and women, you have the oddest feeling of somehow being unconnected to the world. You work too hard, like your friends say, that must be it.
A holiday to Spain is just the right thing. You vow to book one as soon as you get home.
It comes down with such a bump that it tumbles over, stunning you as it hits the ground. With shaking hands, you heave the door open and clamber out into glaring bright light. You are...outside? That can't be right, you set it perfectly to arrive exactly when and where you left from.
You tumble off the machine into hot, steaming dust. A cockroach scuttles past you as you push yourself to your knees. As your eyes adjust, your breath catches in your throat.
Standing around you in a silent, glaring circle are twenty armed men in a uniform you have never seen before. Each of them carries an AK-47, all pointed at you.
"Welcome back," One of them says, stepping forward. He is smiling, but he rams a pistol into your stomach. You cough at the pain. "We've been expecting your return. Congratulations. You are the first person to travel through time. Unfortunately, your only audience is us."
Seemingly without an order being issued, two men step forward and wrench a sack over your head, binding your hands behind your back. You try to protest, but something slams into your mouth and you stagger, tasting blood.
Something must have happened in the past. Something changed. Who are these men and where is the laboratory? Why are your a prisoner?
Unfortunately, these are questions that will never be answered, as you hear a gunshot. Something hits your body hard, but there is no pain and it takes a moment to realise you have been shot. Feeling the strength leaving you as you drop to your knees, you gasp beneath your sack.
"Sky..." You murmur, hoping these men have some kind of mercy. It seems at least one does, as the sack is dragged from your head so that you can see the sky. It seems impossibly blue.
You watch the sky grow dimmer as you lie there, relieved that there is no pain. Eventually, the sky turns to black and you feel the last of your life seep away.
For an uninterminable amount of time, there is nothing. Then, from the oblivion you hear a voice.
"You fools..." It says, "You meddle with what you cannot control." There is a sound like someone sighing. "Things must be fixed, but the same mistake cannot happen again."
The voice fades. You shake your head, confused. You are sitting in a leather chair, your elbows on a black marble table. You are dressed in your robes of office. Strange, you must have fallen asleep. All the other politicians are looking at you, waiting for you to say something.
As you adjust your robes and clear your throat, beginning to address the assembled men and women, you have the oddest feeling of somehow being unconnected to the world. You work too hard, like your friends say, that must be it.
A holiday to Spain is just the right thing. You vow to book one as soon as you get home.
