Short Story: Not Quite There

I saw a friend today, and mentioned that I’d like to do more writing. He suggested that we both sit down at the library computers and try to compose a short story in 30 minutes. So I randomly came up with a concept and started writing. What you see here is the end result of 30 minutes, with a very small amount of editing afterwards (i.e. fixing typos)

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Not Quite There

Marcus checked his watch, not that it did him any good. The watch read 2:15, of course. It had been only a minute since he looked at it last, and he could hardly expect it to read anything other than 2:15. But he gave it a good, long look nonetheless. He liked the illusion of normalcy.

Reluctantly, he looked away from the watch. The world was falling back into place, perhaps a bit slower than usual, but that was no reason to worry. In fact, it always looked “slower than usual” to him. Each time he went through it was slower. But each time, according to the watch at least, it was all the same. Only his mind perceived a difference.

It was all a blur, the world around him, like the forms of an abstract painting. Like oil on the surface of the ocean. The only steady object was the gate that lay behind him, from which he had come – what was it now, the tenth time? The eleventh? – And even that was fading, for of course it was not a proper member of the world itself.

Finally came the climax, snapping like a thunderclap. Marcus jolted at this, as he always did. After a moment he opened his eyes, and saw that the Reset had finished. He was in the city, on the corner of Clark Street and 9th. He turned around to check the gate, which had vanished as usual. He checked his watch. 2:16, right on time.

He walked north on Clark at a brisk pace, dodging passerby as he went. This time he was south of his target. He had started here before, a few Resets ago, and he remembered most of the activity. A bike messenger zoomed past him but he dodged in time. He thought for a moment of saving that poor bastard instead, but thought better of it.

Despite his focus, Marcus had to admit internally that he still had no idea what to do with himself. He reached the corner and eyed the train station a few blocks down. Reluctantly he stopped walking and pulled a book from his coat.

Temporal Regulations, read the title. He had near-memorized the damn thing but he opened it anyway. The first page read: This is the official and authoritative handbook of the T.A.S. ALL RULES SHALL BE FOLLOWED WITHOUT EXCEPTION.

There were actually a few pages of this, “…high responsibility of all agents…power must be matched with understanding…possibility of paradox…” etc. To tell the truth, Marcus had always felt it was a bit much. He heaved a sigh and realized, for the dozenth time, that he had been wrong.

Rule 1: All temporal activity shall be expressly authorized by the Board before the Device is used.

Broke that rule, thought Marcus. He scanned down the page. Rule 12 was part of a “anti-paradox” block where every rule started with the same sentence.

Rule 12: PARODOXES SHALL BE AVOIDED AT ALL COSTS. This shall mean, for instance, that an agent who has initiated Travel shall not interfere with the circumstances that led him to Travel in the first place.

He scanned further.

Rule 17: Any agent who finds himself outside of authorized time streams shall self-terminate immediately. If he fails to do so, he shall be terminated by the Board.

He cringed at that one. He could do it, of course. He had sworn to obey the rules. And in his present situation, it was difficult not to comply with Rule 17. But he had to find a way. He had never been one to give up easily.

Besides, he thought with dark humor, I’ve got all the time in the world.

The train was approaching now. He fought the urge to cry out, to run up to the station and tell someone to stop the train. He could try that, if he wanted to. He had certainly considered it. But he wasn’t ready for that. Not yet, anyway.

So once again, having no better idea of what to do, he watched the train approach. He heard the thunderous noise as it derailed, flew off the tracks entirely. And he knew that in Car #4, a man named Marcus was going into blind panic, scrambling for his Device and initiating an unauthorized Reset to save his own life. He would arrive elsewhere in the city, 33 minutes ago.

And the older Marcus had no way to save him, or the others. He had no way to stop the train without interfering in his own timeline. No way to prevent the unauthorized Travel. No way to avoid his own death, either in the crash or at the hands of the Board.

But there must be a way, he thought. So the older Marcus activated the Device, and jumped back through time once again.