Thursday, October 29, 2015

Juncture 2.7



The next morning I got out of bed. I had slept maybe two hours, although it was hard to tell. I had to leave the room I was in to tell what time it was. When I got up, my head was throbbing more painfully than it ever had. It was incapacitating at first, I knelt on the floor trying to ignore the pain, the white in my head covering my vision. I thought about vomiting for a bit.

It passed eventually, and woozy, I got to my feet. I regretted it almost immediately, as the pain came back twofold. I slumped against the nearest wall, and with my eyes closed I groped for the door handle. I found it, pushed my weight onto it, and it opened. I stumbled into the hallway. I felt hands grab me from the side, preventing me from falling to the ground. The hands were cold, and they gripped a bit too tightly. I was pulled back onto my feet, and leaned against the person holding me up.

I managed to force one eye open. It was Hans holding me up, his face impassive, annoyed even. I closed my eyes as he started talking. It was gibberish, I couldn’t distinguish his words, though each one sent a shock of pain through my skull.

He pushed me forward gently, and I groaned at the effort. Goddammit, it hurt. I stepped, leaned on Hans, stepped again. One foot after another, for what was subjectively several days, and objectively probably around three minutes. Where we wound up, I don’t know, but I ended up lying down on a hard, cold surface. I heard more words, gibberish again, and the pain started receding. Another minute passed, and it was gone.

I opened my eyes and saw Derry’s face looking down on me, worried, her red hair framing her face as it fell. She leaned back to give me room to sit up, and I did so. I felt fine. I didn’t think I would ever get used to this.

“Better, eh? Fixed you up right good,” Derry said in her usual speedy manner.

“Yeah, thanks,” I responded, “It still amazes me that you can do that.”

She grinned, “It still amazes me too.”

Derry didn’t fit the model of what Major General Siegfried told me on our trip yesterday, or millions of years ago, or whatever I should call it. She seemed so nice, I couldn’t reconcile her personality with the survivalist, kill-or-be-killed attitude Major General Siegfried insisted upon yesterday. Before I had time to filter through the question, it blurted through my lips:

“Why do you work here?”

A look of surprise crossed Derry’s face, and I continued, trying to explain.

“I mean, you seem so nice. Siegfried told me some pretty nerve-wracking things yesterday, and I need a second opinion.”

She looked pointedly at Hans, and then at the door. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb, and walked out.

“I’m right outside the door,” he said as he left.

Derry got up and closed the door behind him.

“I figured you’d want to discuss this one-on-one, without Hans here, yeah?” She asked. I nodded, and she copied the motion vigorously, and continued.

“So Major General Siegfried took you out yesterday, didn’t he? He does that with most of the new recruits. What exactly did he say?”

“Well... we were in the Cretaceous period, and we were attacked by a velociraptor. He killed it. Really quickly, too. Just… point blank shot it in the head,” she cringed as I described it, “And he told me that, if I join, I’d have to be able to do the same thing.”

Derry nodded as I spoke, then mulled over what I had said for a few moments.

“Yeah, you would. It’s a dangerous job. I’ve had to before.” That surprised me. “But think about it Marc. You’d defend yourself in any life or death situation. If you were attacked by a velociraptor, and you didn’t have Siggy there, what would you do?”

“Run,” I answered.

“Nowhere to run, and you have a gun. What do you do?”

I gave the inevitable answer, “I’d shoot it.”

Derry threw her hands in the air, “Exactly! You’re going to save yourself as it is in a life-or-death situation. The only difference between being wherever you’re from and the OST is that it might happen a little more often.”

“Y-you can’t just throw that out like it isn’t a big deal!” I said, louder than I was before, “That’s ‘a little more often’ that you’d have to shoot something, or that you’re gonna die!”

An understanding look arose on her face.

“So you have basic self-preservation,” she stated, “that’s good. But you’ll have to let go of that for the greater good occasionally. Listen, I’m gonna tell you something that I haven’t told very many people, but I think It will help you come to a decision. Just… don’t tell anybody, okay?”

I nodded, and when that didn’t appear to be enough confirmation, said “Okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

She nodded and leaned closer.



Around twenty minutes later, I was in front of Major General Siegfried’s office. Han was once again by my side, having snapped back into position as soon as I opened Derry’s door. I knocked, nerves making my fist shake as I held it outward and rapped on the metal door, three quick successive strikes.

After around sixty seconds, the door opened. Major General Siegfried loomed in the mantle, obscuring the view of his office. He looked at me, and I felt naked under his gaze. From the look on his face, he had known I would come here, known I was going to say what I was about to say. Internally, I noted that yes, he could know for certain that I was going to be here. He had that ability.

I shook the thought out of my head.

“I’m in.”

Sunday, October 25, 2015

Interlude 0.2



He ran.

He ran as fast as he could through the inky, darkened streets of London. It had rained recently, and the cobbles were slickly wet, but he ran as fast as he could despite. He pumped his legs, pushing his hefty body forward as far and fast as he was able.

He ran, his boots slipping slightly on the wet stone. A moment of tension. He recovered, didn’t fall. His will to get to his destination kept him going, single-minded, single-purposed. There was an explosion nearby. Shit. It was starting faster than he had anticipated.

He turned down an alley, his momentum almost skidding him into a wall. He pushed off of it and corrected his course. He was almost there.

He checked his TA. Lights flickered. Down the street, in several seconds, was a deep green terror, tinged soon with the ice blue of relief. That was his target. He ran to the house, up the stairs, and crashed bodily through the doorway.

He stopped running, checked with his TA again. The green was above him. In the present, he looked for stairs, and soon found them. Taking them three at a time, he bounded up them. Time was of the essence. There was one room up here, a dark attic. In it, a young girl sat, facing away from the door, a small candle flickering in her hand. She had put cloths over the windows so the light couldn’t be seen from outside.

She was terrified, he could sense it, and rightly so. He walked up to her, gently putting his arm on her shoulder. She jolted, stiffening, turned around slowly, and after a second, a warm smile rolled over her face. There was the relief he had felt before. He took her hand in his and lifted her into his arms. He blew out the melted candle, and began to race down the stairs.

He was breathing heavily. The exertion was difficult for him. But he began running again. Back the way he had come. Bombs were falling freely now, explosions sounding from all around. The girl whimpered, and curled up smaller in his arms.

He ran. While he was running, he used his TA yet again. All around him was red, stark terror and pain and anguish. He looked forward in his path. He couldn’t focus, the bombs were distracting him, the red was distracting him. So much red, so much terror surrounding him. It tore him apart inside that he couldn’t do anything about it.

He ran faster. A bomb fell where he had been several seconds earlier. He could feel the heat from the explosion hit his back, could feel the concussive force shooting outward from the center of the impact. He stumbled, recovered. The girl shrieked a loud shriek, and fell silent.

He was blown off his feet. He flipped in the air, landed on the wet stones, skidded, rubble and debris falling on him, hitting him in the head, the back, the leg. He stopped, lying on the ground. Blood flowed freely from all over his body. He had a cut on his lips, and his chin. He couldn’t see out of one eye.

He got up. Adrenaline shot through his body. He used his TA, all he could see coming was black. He shook his head, yelled the girl’s name. Piles of rubble were strewn across the wet street. Encased in one such pile, half of the girl’s body stuck out from under it. Black pain shot through his body, ice went through his spine. He limped over to her, and began tearing the rubble off. He yelled her name again, his voice hoarse. She didn’t respond.

He dug her out, picked her up in his arms again. He turned around and began limping forward, the darkness of the street more oppressive than ever.

There was no need to hurry now, so he favored his injured leg. Bombs continued to fall, but he no longer cared. He carried the girl’s body, slowly, taking care to be gentle with her. The rain fell freely now, whatever obstacle was holding it back earlier had disappeared entirely. Sheets of rain, thick, heavy droplets fell around him. He pursed his lips and continued on, ignoring the biting cold.

He was back. He didn’t need to take the small device out of his pocket to locate the door to his office, in his rush he hadn’t taken the time to close it behind him. In the rain, in an unimportant spot in the middle of the street, was a disembodied doorway leaking orange light. He walked through it, gently placing the girl down on the floor. He closed the door quietly behind him.

Although he had escaped the rain, the wetness continued to flow down his face. He allowed it, letting the tears fall. He limped over to his console, pushed a button on the speakerphone that was there.

Yes?” A voice chimed in from the console, buzzing, crackling.

The man sighed shakily, and wiped the tears from his face. Whatever he was feeling, he had to act professional. He took in a deep breath, and spoke.

“This is…Corporal Adrian Siegfried checking in post-op. Mission failure, target lost. I’ve recovered the body.

Okay Corporal Siegfried. We’ll schedule a meeting about the mission with your superiors upon your arrival.”

He turned off the speaker. He had no reason to go back right now, when he left didn’t matter.

He laid down next to the girl’s body on the floor. The tears came back, and he curled up into a fetal position. A sob unhitched itself from his throat, and he began sobbing in earnest.

She was dead. He wasn’t able to save her. He was too late.

His sister was dead, and it was his fault.

My sister is dead

He cried.

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Juncture 2.6


A long thin face appeared in the brush about fifteen feet away, closely followed by a long neck, and a low, saurian body. The lizard appeared to shimmer in varying rainbow colors as it ran toward Major General Siegfried.

I had time to think “Holy shit, it’s a velociraptor” before the lizard pounced. Major General Siegfried ducked out of the way, sending the lizard toward me. I stumbled backward, scrabbling to get as far away from the dinosaur as possible. It skidded toward me, made an about-face, and charged Major General Siegfried once again.

To his credit, he was unperturbed. He had one hand in his jacket pocket, and he swayed left, just far enough to avoid the dinosaur’s snapping jaws. As fast as lightning, he struck the lizard in the cheek.

I can’t emphasize this enough.

Major General Siegfried.

Punched.

A velociraptor.

In the face.

The powerful blow added to the velociraptor’s momentum, sending it slamming face-down into the muddy ground. He pulled out the hand that was in his jacket pocket, it was carrying a small gun. His face was remorseless as he looked down on the lizard and shot it in the back of the head. Its head bounced against the ground, blood spraying from the bullet hole. Siegfried shot two more times, and the lizard stopped moving. Its legs and arms twitched, then fell still.

I stood there, open-mouthed. I didn’t know what to say. While Siegfried seemed like a kind, genteel six-and-a-half-foot-tall monster of a person before, he seemed terrifying now. There were some blood spattered on his well-creased pants, and he was calmly putting the odd-looking gun back in his jacket pocket.

I slowly walked back up toward the lizard then knelt down next to it, making sure to avoid the blood. I was borrowing clothes from the OST, and didn’t know if they would take too kindly to bloodstains.

On closer inspection, the lizard’s skin wasn’t a shiny rainbow; rather, it was covered in hundreds of thousands of small feathers, overlaying each other to form an almost protective coat. I made sure that it was dead, by the age-old tradition of waving my hand in front of its face. It didn’t move, so I plucked several feathers out and looked at them.

Even closer up, they still had that shimmering quality. When I turned the feather back and forth, it changed colors across the surface, going from a light turquoise to a deep crimson.

I stuck them in my pocket, being careful to not bend them, and stood to face Major General Siegfried. The eerie calm look on his face was gone, replaced with his normal, mildly entertained look.

“Holy fuck, man,” I said to him, “I mean, what the shit!?”

His eyebrows creased.

“No need for such language. You didn’t think I came here just for the beauty, did you?”

The fact that he had a response prepared threw me for a loop. I nodded my head, waiting for him to continue.

“I bring new recruits here to demonstrate two points. One is, yes, there is a lot of beauty involved in what we do. We get to see all the best parts of human history, and the world in general.” He knelt down, and ran two fingers through the blood on the ground, and rubbed them together, as if demonstrating,

“But there’s also danger. We go to times of war, times of sickness and poverty. We deal with human filth, with monsters. We must be prepared for any scenario.” He looked me directly in the eyes, the calm look was back as he addressed me directly.

“We may even need to kill. That is why I bring new recruits here. The wilderness is beautiful, but it’s also wild, untamed. Dangerous. One last time, I want to make absolutely certain that you understand what you’re getting in to. You need to take this seriously.”

A lump had formed in my throat, and I swallowed it nervously. He stared at me, unblinking, waiting for an answer.

“I-I think that I need to think more about it,” I said.

We were both silent for a very long time, probably around ten seconds, but it felt much, much longer.

“I’d like to go back now, though.” I continued, “To take all of this in.”

He nodded, “Okay. Back in the office then.” He pulled out the small phone-like device, and the office materialized. It was much closer than I thought it would have been, as somehow I felt as though we had gone further than we actually did.

We stepped inside, and Siegfried went behind the desk and sat down. He busied himself with typing and pressing buttons, and while he did so, I went over to the bookshelf.

I needed to calm myself down, I was frazzled. I was tapping my hand against my leg rapidly, making the soft noise of impact against fabric.

I focused on the various media on the shelves. There were rows of books, and stacks of disc cases. I looked at the book closest to my eye-level. After several seconds I was able to decipher the title written on the spine. It was a hard-cover copy of The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien.

I pulled it off the shelf and brought it over to the couch, where I sat down and opened it. I wasn’t going to read it, I wasn’t calm enough to even try. I just wanted to make it clear to Major General Siegfried that I didn’t want to talk to him.

The rest of the trip was silent, with a slight shudder when the office righted itself into position, and Siegfried escorted me to the quarters I had been living in. He departed once I entered, and I sat on the bed with the lights out, still in the clothes I was wearing.

Did I have it in me? Was I prepared to take a life, even for my own safety?

Those thoughts swirled around inside my head as I stripped off the clothes and got under the sheets.

I didn’t sleep.

Sunday, October 18, 2015

Juncture 2.5



...

“Back?” I asked. Major General Siegfried had finished fiddling around with the computer, and walked around the desk, taking a seat on the plaid couch facing me. His mass took up most of the couch, leaving maybe enough room for a very small person next to him.

“Yes, back,” he said.



“In time,” he clarified. I sat there. We were going back in time.

That was cool. The impossibility of the situation brought my mind to thoughts of home, to my foster parents. What were they going to think when I got back? I’d been gone a week, and I’d have to think of an explanation.

Oh well. I had time to figure out how to handle that situation.

“So,” I asked, breaking the short silence, “you told me that Derry had a TA. Do you have one?”

“Indeed I do,” he said, “although mine is far less impressive than Derry’s. My TA allows me to see a cluster of possibilities surrounding the current moment. In these possibilities, I can’t sense things normally, I don’t have taste or touch or smell. I sense the emotional status of beings nearby, and I can adjust what I’m doing in the now to steer toward one possibility.”

“In layman’s terms?” I asked.

“Well, I can see very short into the future how people’s emotions will react, and force one possibility to manifest,” he answered.

“That’s pretty cool,” I lied. Siegfried was right, it was pretty underwhelming.

“So do I have one of these?” I asked.

“Well, we know you have some capability to create short-sequenced time loops, but we have as of yet to discover what provoked you to create it. Unless you happen to know,” he added.

“Nope,” I said. I didn’t know. When I was stuck, it just kept happening. I would go through the same shitty day, I would get out of school, get hit by a car, and I would start over. Moreover, I didn’t really feel anything when it happened – it just… did.

We lapsed into silence again. If Siegfried could tell emotions, then he could probably see that I was pretty nervous right now. The idea of time travel – it still seemed unreal. It was still impossible.

Until we got there.

After several more moments of conversation with the Major General, the room shook violently for one or two seconds, as though it were sliding down an incline. I grasped the arms of the chair for purchase until the sensation stopped. The general was unperturbed, sitting on the couch, one leg up over the other one. After the shaking ended he stood up patted down his military-style jacket to remove any wrinkles or creases, buttoned it closed, and gestured for me to join him at the door. I followed him, intensely nervous for what was about to happen.

“Ready, Marc?” he asked me. He was holding his identification above the scanner pad, waiting for me to either give him the okay to open the door, or to back down, to be unable to cope. I knew that that was one of the options, or he wouldn’t have actually asked, because of his TA. He knew that there was the possibility I would back down.

That knowledge gave me the push to go through with it.

“Yeah,” I said.

He opened the door. Bright, greenish light poured into the room, so much so that I had to blink several times in order to recover my vision. Spots swam in front of my eyes for a couple of moments. When I could look out, I was nearly entranced by what I saw.

There was a jungle – not a forest, not a small meadow – a full, lush, mossy jungle. Right outside of the doorway of the room we were in.

The noise was deafening. In an instant, the silence of Major General Siegfried’s office was replaced by the raucous noises of nature. Somewhere far off in the distance, I heard the sound of roaring, shaking me somewhat from my amazement.

“What… where – no, when are we?” I asked the Major General.

“Well, we’re in the late Cretaceous period, somewhere near Mongolia. I try to always bring new members of the OST here on one of their first trips. I can honestly say that it’s one of the most naturally beautiful places I’ve ever seen.”

It was beautiful. Light scattered through the leaves and vines above, creating long shadowed flecks on the trees and the plants covering the ground. Ivy grew everywhere.

I tentatively placed one foot outside of the office, and after nothing bad happened, I took a full step forward. Just like that, I was in the jungle. I turned back around.

The room wasn’t there. A wave of terror flew through my body and a gasp escaped my lips.

Shit!

Before I had time to do anything, Major General Siegfried appeared in front of me, materializing out of the jungle nearby.

“Sorry about that. I forgot to warn you. All of the offices have a camouflage feature that activates automatically, so in situations like these we don’t stand out too much. I should have warned you before.”

“It’s okay,” I replied. I focused on steadying my breathing, and moved on to what I thought were more pressing matters, “How do you usually find your way back?”

“With this.” Siegfried fished around inside his military-style jacket, and pulled out a small device. The closest thing I could compare it to was a touchscreen phone – it was small, rectangular, and of course, had a screen. He placed his thumb on the screen, and the office building appeared into view, the door still hanging open, revealing the interior of the room. It was an odd juxtaposition to see; the warm comfort of the office against the wild jungle exterior.

We stood there in the humidity for several more moments. I looked around, half in wonder, half in terror. I was new to this, I didn’t know how it worked.



Suddenly, there was a loud screech.

Thursday, October 15, 2015

Juncture 2.4


Derry was a quick talker, and on top of that, she had a thick, native Irish accent. Both of these combined so that I could maybe, just barely, understand every third or fourth word that escaped her lips. The Major General didn’t seem to have the same issue, as he nodded along with what she was saying. I, on the other hand, had to sit and interpret her every sentence. It was like my dyslexia took on audible form.

“Ouch, that doesn’t look good. Come here and let Derry take a look at it,” She said quickly. “It’s just a normal break. Right, that should be quite simple.”

Major General Siegfried nodded.

“Yes. Broken bone, mild concussion. Nothing difficult.”

Derry nodded. She took a pair of shears and began hacking away at the cast on my arm. Little bits of plaster and fabric kept getting caught in the blades, and Derry swept them off quickly.

“Now how did this happen,” she asked, “Car accident?” I flinched. “No, that wouldn’t only break your arm. It was some blunt impact. Hard, too, if it gave you a nasty knock on the noggin.”

I gulped, trying to parse through the individual words she was saying.

“Um, the Major General kinda pushed me out of the way of a moving car. I hit the curb pretty hard coming down.”

It was Derry’s turn to flinch. As I described it, I realized how painful it sounded. I mean, direct skull-to-curb contact sounded sickeningly awful.

She continued cutting, quieter now. After several more minutes, the bandage came off. A putrid, nose-wrinkling smell wafted through the air and assaulted the nostrils of the congregated group. We all simultaneously gagged – I even audibly retched at the smell. It was awful, sweet like rotting flesh, mixed with sweat and blood.

Derry recovered admirably quickly. She pulled out some moist towelettes from a desk drawer and began wiping down the putrid arm. When she finished, she placed both of her hands gently over the break, humming a quick, wordless tune.

“Um, Major General? What’s she doing?” I asked. He just chuckled, and leaned back in his seat. Derry’s humming got louder and louder, eventually becoming a deep-throated open-mouth drone.

Suddenly, she stopped.

“All done!” She exclaimed cheerfully. “Give it a whirl! Swing it around, here, give me a high five, I did a fantastic job!” She held her hand out and grinned.

I moved my arm tentatively. No pain. I went a step further, clenching my fingers in a fist and bending my wrist back and forth. No pain. Happily, I slapped Derry’s hand. There was pain. I misjudged the distance, hitting her hand hard and sending a stinging sensation down both of our arms.

“Fuck, that stings!” I swore. Then, I laughed. My arm wasn’t broken!

“Thank you Derry, always a pleasure. But I’m afraid we must be going, as there’s plenty more for Marc to see, and not a lot of time.”

“Aah, you always leave too quickly, Siggy. We never get to catch up, you and !. If you gotta go, you gotta go!” She said loudly. I stood up and walked over to Major General Siegfried, and we walked out of the room.

“So what the hell just happened in there?” I asked Siegfried. I was still feeling the excitement, remnants of being exposed to Derry’s crushing exuberance. “How did she fix my arm?” I wiggled it around for emphasis.

“Oh, Derry’s TA? She has quite the useful capability. She can take a small amount of organic material, and revert it back to a former state.”

“TA?”

“Temporal Affectation. It’s the term that the OST uses to explain different agents’ and subjects’ abilities. There’s a whole complex mode of categorization, but that will be explained to you as you learn here.”

“Cool, cool,” I said, feigning nonchalance. “So my arm is, like, my arm from two weeks ago?”

The Major General nodded, not turning to face me.

“Precisely. There are, of course, complex technical details involved in the process, but we – that is, myself, Derry, and the researchers here – all think that her TA involves a mental node being sent back in time, then taking the cells from a different possibility and replacing them with the ones in the current reality.”

I nodded, and we kept walking down the long hallway. At one point we passed a large logo sign, reading the name of the Organization, the initials larger than the rest of the individual letters. We turned and continued walking.

“…So where do these powers come from? And do you have one?” I asked, my curiosity and the quiet of the hallway egging me on.

“We don’t know, exactly. There are theories, but none have enough evidence to claim as fact,” The general spoke, “You see, it’s not a recent phenomenon. There are members of the OST from every age of humanity.”

“Huh?” I spoke, confused.

Siegfried was silent and pensive for a moment, planning out what he was to say next.

“You are from the early twenty-first century. Most people here are not. Derry, for instance; she originally hails from Ireland, in the late sixteen-hundreds.”

“And you?” I asked.

“I am from what you refer to as the twenties. I was recruited from my home during World War Two.”

“Yeesh, that must have sucked to live through.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” He muttered, almost as if to himself and not to me.

Major General Siegfried stopped near a door. It had three clocks, laid out vertically on the wall next to it, each one showing a different time on its face. He pressed some form of identification against a panel underneath the bottom clock, and the door opened with a low whooshing noise.

The interior of the office – I assumed it was Major General Siegfried’s – looked like a comfortable library. It was a place I could see myself sitting in, relaxing, and maybe watching a movie. There were too many books for my comfort, though.

Major General Siegfried walked over to the desk in the leftmost corner of the office. There, he pressed several buttons on a keyboard, and spoke as he did so.

“Sit, if you want. We won’t be in here long.”

I sat on a nearby armchair, surprised by just how much I sunk into the soft, plush fabric.

“What are we doing here,” I asked. “Are we waiting for someone?”

He lifted a hand and waved it in the air in a noncommittal gesture.

“We’re heading back,” he said.

Sunday, October 11, 2015

Juncture 2.3



I’d been at the OST for a week, and I still didn’t know how much longer I was going to stay there. I had recovered somewhat from my concussion, so my mood swings were much fewer and further in-between. However, my arm was still broken, and would be for a few more weeks.

After the first three days, I was allowed to walk around some of the halls in what I was quickly learning was an absolutely enormous building. I mean seriously, I was only allowed to wander the wing I was in, but that meant I had about a mile of hallway to walk down.

Of course, I wasn’t allowed on these trips by myself. I was escorted by Hans. Everywhere I went, he would follow me like a watchdog. On most of these trips, he would stay silent. I tried talking to him – asking questions, making conversation – for the first day. He would answer with a curt sentence, or a single word, or sometimes he wouldn’t answer at all.

He was kind of a dick. I came to just accept that he didn’t want to talk, and didn’t talk to him. So I would wander down the halls, humming, asking myself rhetorical questions, and generally keeping myself busy.

It was a rather dull week.

I was sitting in the small cafeteria, eating lunch. The food I was given was pretty good. Normal cafeteria food, chicken, veggies, rice, the like, but it was all well-prepared. Hans was sitting next to me, a salad on his plate and a cup of coffee in his hand. The door behind us opened. I turned to look, and saw Major General Siegfried hunch his way into the room. He walked up to the food counter, grabbed a plate, and began piling food on it. I turned away and began eating food in silence.

The Major General walked over and sat at our table, directly opposite me. I looked at his plate. He had filled it with what seemed to be all of the chicken. He didn’t have anything else but a fork and a knife.

“So, Marc,” he said amicably, “Have you considered my offer to join our organization?”

I looked at him with sarcastic, half-lidded eyes. I brought a piece of chicken up to my mouth and began to chew it as I spoke.

“Well, I mean,” I said, “It’s not like I have a choice do I?” I swallowed, then took another bite. “If I don’t you’re probably just going to keep me here, aren’t you?”

Siegfried looked appalled at the mere suggestion.

“Of course not!” he exclaimed, “You’d be free to leave whenever!”

“You mean you’d just let me go, knowing that this whole time-cop deal was taking place?”

“Well, we would have to take precautions to make sure you didn’t tell anybody, but they’re usually mostly harmless.”

“Mostly?” I asked.

“Mostly,” He nodded, “It’s a simple process. We just have to make sure we don’t take too much or you might lose yourself.”

I took another bite of food as I processed this. I would be allowed to leave, but they would perform some sort of surgery on me that would cause me to lose my memories, as far as I could tell.

“And what do I get if I join?”

A small smile crossed the Major General’s lips.

“As a member of the Organization, you would have access to all of our resources. You’d get a monthly stipend, delivered in the currency of your choice. You would get education, room and board, and training. Ah, excuse me for just one second.” He got up, filled a cup with seltzer, and sat back down, taking a large sip as he did so.

“What do you say, Marc? Have I convinced you?” He asked.

“Well,” I furrowed my brow, “I’m gonna keep saying that I don’t have a say in the matter, but I’m in.”

Major General Siegfried smiled a huge, toothy grin. He stood up, walked around the table, and stood next to me.

“Then I’m glad to be able to teach and work with you, Private Antony.” He stuck out one of his enormous hands for a handshake. I placed my good hand inside it, my extended fingers reaching the first joint of his fingers. His shake was surprisingly soft, I assumed that he had to hold himself back when he performed one, to make sure that he didn’t crush anyone’s hands into oblivion.

“Come with me, please. I have someone I want you to meet.” I got up and followed him.

After a short walk through the mostly silent hallways, we arrived at a small office. It looked similar in shape to the Major General’s, but instead of being decorated with bookshelves and couches, this one was sparser. While there wasn’t much on the floor, the walls were covered – and I mean wall-to-wall covered – with individual pictures, each one part of the same landscape. The walls were a lush, green hillscape, with bright azure sky overhead.

It reminded me of the stereotypical computer background more than anything else.

Inside, there was a desk, and four chairs, none of which looked comfortable. Sitting behind the desk, facing away from us working on something on a laptop, was a woman, with the brightest orange hair I’d ever imagined. She apparently didn’t hear us come in, because she didn’t turn around.

The Major General coughed gently, and when that didn’t work, he stepped forward and lightly tapped her on the shoulder with one meaty finger. She turned around and a grin crossed her face. She was wearing big headphones, which I couldn’t see from the back because of her shock of hair. She pulled them down around her neck.

“Siggy, it’s good to see you again! You hardly ever come to visit!” She exclaimed.



“Derry, always a pleasure. Fortunately, I haven’t had a good reason to come visit before now, but I have one here,” he said, and turned to address me, “Marc, this is Derry Dell.”

Thursday, October 8, 2015

Juncture 2.2



I slowly opened my eyes. There was a bright white light directly over my face, forcing me to squint. Slow, throbbing pains pervaded my entire body, especially my left arm and my head. The sensation sent a wave of nausea through me, and I gagged loudly, turning my head to the side.

Nothing came out, and the nausea passed. I breathed heavily through my mouth, trying to block out the pain. I faced up again, my eyes closed, still breathing.

A light clinking sound came from the right. I turned my head, gritting my teeth, and cracked open one eye. There was a small glass – filled about halfway and with several pieces of ice floating on the surface – being held next to me. A straw stuck out of the top, and I finagled it into my mouth.

Dear god.


That first sip of cold water was quite possibly the best sensation I had ever experienced. I felt the chill travel down my throat as I swallowed, and felt it diffuse throughout my body. It was beautiful.

“Slow down,” I heard a voice say. I stopped sucking through the straw, and held it in my mouth, looking up at the person holding the glass. He was a thin man, wearing a tan plaid shirt. He was wearing glasses, and he had an unobtrusive, combed-over haircut. He looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties.

I continued drinking, slower this time. I tried to recall where I was. I was in class, then I was outside. Then I was back in class? Everything was shaky and blurry, like an old-timey movie. So I didn’t know where I was, and I didn’t know what was happening. I knew something important had happened, and it was just out of my grasp.

I popped the straw out of my mouth with my tongue, and asked, “Where am I?”

The man sighed, and pulled away the cup, putting it on a tray to his right.

“You’re at OST Headquarters. I’m unable to inform you of where that is currently, I’m unable to inform you of how long you will be here for, and I’m unable to inform you of why I can’t tell you either of those things. All classified. Also, I regret to inform you that your left arm has been broken in three places, and you have a concussion.”

He said all of this in a monotone, as if he had memorized a list of bullet points and was mentally checking them off one by one. By the look of him, I wouldn’t put that past him.

“Concussion?” I asked, grimacing as another wracking wave of pain and nausea hit me, “Do you have any painkillers?”

He grunted, reached back to his right, and passed me a dixie cup with several small red pills in it. I grabbed them with one hand, poured them into my mouth, and swallowed them dry.

“OK, so why am I here, and who are you?” I asked the man.

I heard a door shut quietly somewhere behind the man. A deeper voice from far away spoke, “He is Hans. I’m Major General Siegfried, the Head of Recruitment here at OST.” The voice continued talking as it got closer and closer: “You were trapped inside a time loop, and I was told to retrieve you. Unfortunately, due to lack of time, I had to force you out of the way of a vehicle. I am sorry for the pain.”

Funnily enough, the pain meds were already working. I wasn’t feeling the throb as much anymore. His words did shake something loose inside my head, though, and I remembered the past thirteen days. My eyes widened as I absorbed the information.

Oh shit. Time loop?

It fit, with all the information I had previously. Unless I was just going deeper and deeper into my own brain as a symptom of oncoming insanity, this made the most sense. I accepted it.

“OK, time loop. What caused it?”

Siegfried frowned, furrows deepening on his forehead.

“Well actually, we believe that you caused it. Within each instance, when you died, the world reverted back to how it was nearly exactly seven hours beforehand.”

“Cool,” I said, “Superpowers.”

Siegfried looked thrown off-guard for a moment before he responded.

“ …Yes, kind of, I guess. It’s more of an inherent trait or ability, or –“

“Superpowers,” I repeated, trying out the word, seeing how it felt in my mouth.



A resigned look came upon his face, and I continued, “So what’s the OST?”

“The OST, or Organization for Temporal Stability, is a group that attempts to find and counter anomalies in space-time whenever or wherever they appear. If the cause of the anomaly is a person, we offer to help them with their situation, and attempt to recruit them into the organization.” The words sounded like a speech, but Siegfried managed to inject the words with emotion, a stark contrast to the other guy, Hans.

“So,” I asked, irritated, “You guys are time cops?” The big man laughed, deep and hearty.

“Well, I guess you could call us that. Often-times it’s less crime that we clean up, more often its accidents, or even mistakes.”

“So why am I here?” I asked. Hans was quick to answer, even before the Major General could open his mouth.

“We’re recruiting you.”

Why?

I didn’t ask out loud. I knew they had told me something earlier, but I couldn’t remember what it was. Something about a time loop, something caused it. Was it me? I did know that I didn’t really know either of these men. I didn’t fully trust them.

It was probably the concussion, I was getting angrier and angrier as he spoke. I latched on to the one thing that could logically explain my anger - they had kidnapped me. In retrospect, I could almost consider their abduction a good thing, but in the moment - I was tired, I was angry, I was in pain, and I was confused. None of those combined to make a thoughtful and pragmatic Marc.

“You’re recruiting me? Isn’t that normally more of an interview thing than a kidnapping thing?” I asked rhetorically.

“Yes, well. You were trapped in a very significant type of loop. If I hadn’t gotten to you when I did, the loop would have continued, and you would continue to be stuck in that instance.”

“No I’m not gonna join your fucking club man! You kidnapped me! Why should I trust you?!”

Sadness pervaded the Major General’s eyes. He shook his head slowly, and started walking toward the door. Hans got up and followed him. Right before he left, the Major General turned back toward me and said quietly:

“Think on it a while.”

Sunday, October 4, 2015

Juncture 2.1



Thirteen.

That was how many times I had to sit through that same math class. That was how many times I got kicked out for being rude to Simon. Thirteen.

That was how many times I met with Principal Saunders. That was how many times I was sentenced to detention. Thirteen.

That was how many times I was hit by the car at the end of the day. That was how many times I felt the metal chassis hit me, how many times I felt my skull hit the wet pavement, how many times my vision went dark.

That was how many times I died. In all honesty, I was getting bored. My pain tolerance started going up around the fourth or fifth time through – even though everything was getting reset, anything that took place within the realm of my mind kept and built upon itself. I remembered every pass through the day.

It sucked, let me tell you. After around six times, I began to try and notice differences between each experience. Mr. Fetter, for instance. He showed up four or five times out of the thirteen, and after the first time he showed up, the next few times I felt the same sensation as I had felt during the rest of the day. I was stuck with the actions I had done, and I couldn’t change them.

Aside from Mr. Fetter’s appearance, there were some minute differences between each of the days. Sometimes when Barbara ended her phone call as I was sitting in the office fiddling with the Rubik’s cube, she would hang up in a huff.

In Chemistry, sometimes I would notice a fly buzzing around the lights. One time it was a bee instead, and Jock had to get up and crush it. The rest of the times the fly was left to its own devices until it flew out of an open window and into the gray outdoors.

Right now I was sitting in detention again. There were about three minutes left until Barbara’s alarm would go off and she would let me out of the musty room. About seven minutes until I was outside in the rain. Around nine minutes until I got hit by the car again.

I sat patiently, waiting for the inevitable.

Barbara’s alarm went off.

“Alright Marc, thanks for behaving yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Barbara turned off the alarm, closed her laptop, put her phone in her purse, and rose from the desk.

“Alright Marc, thanks for behaving yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, and walked out of the room.

I grabbed my stuff and left shortly after



I was in the rain around four minutes later, having just left the dry warmth of the school building. Within seconds, my clothes had been soaked thoroughly, and I was shivering.

This is going to suck.

I didn’t know if I was ever going to get out of this groundhog-day scenario, but if I did I would be able to take any pain easily.

I walked on, my teeth chattering and my lips turning blue.

I heard a soft honk before me.

Here it comes.

Something glinted in the rain next to me and I turned my head to look. I saw a huge, hulking figure charging at me, and before I could do anything, I was knocked backward, hard. My feet even came off of the ground for several seconds as I hurtled through the air for an unnatural amount of time.

When I fell to the ground, I landed hard. First on my arm, flipped over onto my stomach, then flipped again, my head solidly connecting to the wet tar. I swear I felt my brain rattling inside my skull.

I laid there, face-up in the rain. Water flowed freely into my eyes and mouth as I tried and failed to roll over. My entire body was screaming at me from the sheer intensity of the pain I was experiencing.

Turns out my pain tolerance wasn’t as good as I’d thought.

I took several deep, rattling breaths as I tried to recover my wits about me. It was excruciating. After several seconds I coughed out most of the water that had gotten in my mouth, and tried to turn over. I made it about half an inch off of my back before I was lifted off the ground by something I couldn’t see. I tried to struggle against the contact, but I couldn’t move enough to cause any meaningful distraction to whomever or whatever was picking me up.

I squinted, trying to get a clear view of what was carrying me. My vision was blurry, changing my surroundings into a moving watercolor painting. All I could see were lights and shapes. It didn’t help that the rain was still falling.

I tried talking.

“Who are you and what the hell are you doing?”
At least, that’s what I tried to ask. I think it came out more like “…who...hellyou…do”.

I felt a baritone rumble from the thing carrying me. So it was a person. I couldn’t make out specific words at all, just the general concept of speech.

We were moving. I didn’t know where we were going, but I could tell that we were moving, because every step my captor took caused pain in my head and arm.

My thoughts were beginning to disconnect from each other, separate points on a graph. My eyes closed for a second, and when I opened them, I was in a different place. It was brighter. The light hurt my head. There wasn’t any rain. I closed my eyes again.

They opened and I was in a different place. There was something over my mouth. The light was bright. There were short noises: a staccato murmur, then a response. I felt a pain in my head. My arm hurt. I felt something cut into my arm, but I couldn’t move. I tried to scream, but my mouth wouldn’t open. My head was on fire.



I closed my eyes.

Thursday, October 1, 2015

Interlude 0.1



Hans’ footsteps echoed through the large, sparse hallway. Thick, metal doors lined the walls at regular intervals. Some were open, most were closed.

On the right of each door were three digital clocks. The top clock was the same next to each door, but the ones underneath it were all keyed to different times. There seemed to be no pattern between the different clocks.

There was a quiet hum throughout the hall, a kind of deep vibration that permeated the entire place. Not many people who worked there knew what caused it. Hans didn’t know what it was, but he was going to talk to someone who was a high enough rank to have access to that information.

He was going to speak to Major General Siegfried.

Hans was mildly worried. He knew that the information he was carrying in the small, manila folder close to his chest was important. Very important. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to gain the ire of Major General Siegfried by delivering it in the wrong way.

He turned toward a door on his left. The uppermost clock, like all of the other uppermost clocks, read 18:24:23. The middle one said 23:42:56, and the bottom one read 23:43:00. Hans held his ID card in front of the scanner on the left of the door, and the large metal door slid up into the ceiling with a soft whooshing noise.

The inside of the office sharply contrasted the cold metallic exterior of the hallway. There was a large, cushioned plaid couch, which looked like somebody had sewn together several kilts into the form of a sofa. There was also a rocking chair and a plain looking velvet armchair.

The walls were practically lined with bookshelves. All sorts of books were present, from old, leather-bound tomes, to soft-cover novels, to collections of e-books on various tablets.

All in all, it looked more like an elderly grandmother’s house than a high-ranking official’s office.

Hans sat down on the couch, making sure to not bend the envelope he held. He laid it across his knees, resting his hands on top of it. He knew he would be waiting at least several minutes.

Hans was always on time. Major General Siegfried was not. He always had something more important happening.

Hans started to tap his right leg up and down. He hated waiting, and yet he was basically Major General Siegfried’s assistant. It infuriated him. With their line of work, it was uncanny that someone who had such a loose grasp of timing managed to be such a high rank. Yet somehow, their relationship worked. Hans made up for all the time that General Major Siegfried used up with his tardiness.

After around ten minutes, Hans got up and started pacing. The soft brown shag carpet muffled his footsteps. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the door opened again. Standing in the doorway was Major General Siegfried.

Major General Siegfried cut an… imposing figure. Six foot seven, well over two hundred and fifty pounds, he was absolutely the most terrifying man Hans had ever laid eyes upon. It didn’t help that Siegfried tried his best to cultivate that image. He kept the top of his head shaved, but let his facial hair grow unencumbered by comb or brush. His eyebrows were two enormous black bushes of tangled hair, coming down until they were almost even with the tops of his eyes.

When Hans first met him, he wondered who had put this monster of a man in charge of recruitment. That wonder disappeared as soon as he opened his mouth. Major General Siegfried had a silver tongue. It was no wonder that the organization sent him out to recruit the confused new members stuck in loops or unable to cope with themselves.

That was what Hans was here for. A short psychological profile was inside the manila folder. The profile was for a potential new recruit named Marc Antony. He was an interesting development. As of yet there were no members of OTS who had his particular talents. Hans couldn’t really figure out what was useful about it, but the higher-ups had requested he be brought in, so Hans was bringing him in.

“Hello Hans, what have you got for me today?” Siegfried asked, his voice deep, almost like a melodic foghorn.

“Another recruit,” Hans replied, “I was told to tell you to collect him.” He handed over the manila envelope, and Siegfried looked through it.

“Hm,” Siegfried looked troubled, “A bit young isn’t he? Are we really recruiting this early?”

“Apparently,” Hans said, “He’s stuck in a loop, so we have to interfere. Otherwise we won’t have a later chance to get him”

“Alright. I’ll get him. Unless you want to come along for the ride, I’d leave the room.”

Hans nodded, and left through the open door. It closed behind him. He turned and looked at the clocks next to the door. The top one read 18:43:02. The middle one read 19:06:05. The bottom one read 19:13:00.

He shook his head. The people in charge didn’t understand the difficulty of field missions. Giving Major General Siegfried less than ten minutes to collect a recruit was basically madness. Especially since it was Major General Siegfried, who was notoriously bad at keeping to schedule. Granted, it didn’t matter much in the OTS base, but getting to and from places in the right time frame wasn’t a given for him.

Hans walked away from Major General Armstrong’s office, down the long, bland hallway. After a few minutes, silent except for the clicking of Hans’ shoes and that loud, vibrating hum, Hans turned left. He passed a large sign, but didn’t glance at it twice. Why should he? It wasn’t like he didn’t know the name of the place he worked.



He thought of the kid that would be coming here soon. He’d probably be interested in the sign. He’d definitely never heard of the Organization for Temporal Stability before.