| − | In a lonely bar off the airstrip in Boston a man who looks to be in his late forties sits and sips a shot of Bushmills and chases it with a swallow from a pint of Guinness. He is staring intently to the news playing on the bars only TV. His hair is unkempt and shaggy, red with a generous helping of grey, framing a gaunt worn face, only makes the untrimmed beard and mustache look worse. Somehow he got hold of the remote and holds it with an impression that anyone wanting to take it from him is will have more of a struggle than it’s worth. It’s too early in the day for there to be much of a crowd, but even so, people give the quiet man a good berth. <br> “Five minutes.” The man thinks to himself. “I can’t stop it. Nothing worked. I have all this power and nothing worked.” He finishes the shot, barely tasting it. “I thought that I had it right this last time. It SHOULD have worked!” He empties the beer and pulls out his wallet to pay his tab. Visible to someone looking carefully at his license is the name Arthur Redford. Age: 87 and in red letters across the license is the word NON-HUMAN. As he leaves the bar he turns to the bartender and in a voice weighed down with sorrow and loss says, “Leave it on this channel. There’ll be an important event on soon.” Pausing for a moment he pulls out the remainder of his money and puts it on the counter. “When it happens, buy a round for everyone. On me.” With that the strange man left. The bartender just shook his head and collected the money. “Strange old bastard. Damn drunk before nooners. Wonder if he actually knows anything.” Ten minutes later when the news streamed over the TV that a plane had just crashed into one of the Twin Towers. <br> <br> As Arthur walked down the street, lost in thought, all across the nation people were reacting in shock, dismay, terror, anger, and confusion. He would have felt the same but for the fact that this was now all old for him…very old. For the last three years, at least for him it’s been three years, he has been fighting a losing war for a better future. Oh he could make changes all right. That wasn’t the hard part. But the flow of time is like a great series of rapids. Removing one small rock may smooth out that section of the river, but it may speed up the water enough to uproot a tree farther down the river given time. He simply didn’t have the knowledge to make the right changes, as he only now was beginning to realize. <br> <br> [A cut to the future 51 years from now.] Arthur is sitting on a bed in his Fathers old apartment building holding a bottle with some undefined alcohol. He looks terrible. The men who once took great pride in being in top physical shape and clean now sits there gaunt, dirty, and unshaven with deep circles of exhaustion under his eyes. The news crackles on an ancient radio in the squalid little room he occupies. The announcer reports that another three of the notorious “Survivors” have been captured and executed today. “This brings the count up to 279 out of 283 accounted for. Still missing are Brian Jaffe, known for his incredible strength, almost total invulnerability and ability to leap hundreds of miles including into space, who was last seen six months ago when he jumped into outer space and flew through deep space in a trajectory that was destined to take him to Alpha Centauri. He has not been seen since. Jason Forrest, self named ‘The Ghost’, known to be able to go totally incorporeal, possess people’s minds, and induce hallucinations of such a extreme level that psychosomatic wounds have been seen opening on his victims bodies in response to the trauma to their psyche. Abraham Michaels, aka ‘The Doc’, has sought political asylum with India. Abraham was lauded early on as a great hero when he performed a public ‘miracle’ by healing over 300 people of various maladies, injuries, and even re-growing lost limbs on several disabled war veterans. Currently, President Haines is negotiating with India to demand his return to stand trial. For a complete list of all the Survivors transgressions, please go to our website at www.news42.com/survivors/warcrimes. The last survivor missing is Arthur Redford, known to be able to achieve land speeds of almost 200 mph. He is the only one still known to be within the United States. Arthur has proven to be difficult to capture, seeing as he is capable of splitting into over a dozen replicas of himself, and as long as even one of them survive, so does he. Reliable sources have tracked him down to the downtown slums of D.C.. If you are a citizen of D.C., the authorities urge you to leave the city if at all possible, the aftermath of Arthur’s speed has been known to topple small buildings and to shatter all glass within 10 blocks. If you see him, you are ordered by the President by authority of the state of Martial Law declared in 2051 to NOT approach him nor interact in any way. In other news, the UN council is meeting again this week to implore President Gaines to repeal the state of Martial Law, seeing as…” <br> With a squawk, the radio cuts out and is replaced by static. Moving carefully to the window Arthur peers down to the street. “Shit!!” Lifting the arm computer Arthur speaks to it. “Jack, you there? They found me again. I don’t know how, but they’re here. I need you to scout it out for me.” <br> An adolescent voice comes over the speaker, with none of his usual banter. “Yeah, I just did. Arthur, you’re in trouble this time. They’re ready for you. Getting out is going to be tough. They’ve got high tension mono-wire filament covering every ground and second floor exit and window. There is a double layer particle field barrio completely surrounding the building, and they’ve pumped saran gas in between the layers. Even you can’t survive running through that. No matter how fast you are. The sewers are a no go, more mono-wire with emplaced full-auto scatterguns linked mechanically to the wires, the slightest disturbance will set them off. The air will be filled with so much lead that there will be no room for you to get through. Plus, they’re doing everything lo-tech. None of the stuff out there is electronic except the particle barriers, and I WON’T mess with those right now. I won’t release that much saran gas into this neighborhood. It’d kill everything for miles. I think they’ve figured out that you’ve got a super hacker on your side and are making sure that there is little that I can influence. You need to figure out something quick, because they are about to start pumping more gas into the building…Whoops, they already started. Good luck man. If they get you I’ll be sure to order flowers for you grave in Arlington Cemetery.” <br> “He, I won’t be buried in Arlington Jack. Traitors and war criminals don’t get buried there.” Taking a last pull from his bottle Arthur stood up. “All right Jack, time to backtrack.” <br> “Gotcha, just give me a minute to create a update file to give myself when you stop, and you can go.” <br> “No Jack, not this time. That won’t be necessary. You won’t need to update your memory for this trip.” <br> What are you talking about Arthur? You know I need those memory updates, else I don’t know what the hell you’ve been doing every time you skip backwards. I can’t come with you, you know. Just when are you planning on going?” <br> “2001. I’m going back to the beginning.” <br> “Dude!! NO WAY!! We talked about this!! That’s a BAD idea. You know how difficult it is to mess with time for even five minutes, much less fifty year! You can’t do this! Dude, I mean if you go back there…I can’t follow. It’s before my time man. You’ll be alone. I…I promised Brian I wouldn’t leave you alone. Come on, we can run. Just like always, you skip backwards, you upload my memory packet so I know what’s happened, and we find someplace remote. Please Arthur, some country has Got to be interested in offering you asylum. We’ll hear from one any day now. Or you can hide out for awhile and I can see if Brian has found a new class M planet yet. Then I could go and get him and he can come pick you up and we could both leave.” Jack was almost babbling now, trying to convince him not to go. <br> Under the door wisps of vapor started creeping through. They had only seconds before the deadly gas reached them. Fortunately for Arthur, a few seconds could last almost an hour. “Jack, listen to me. No country is going to offer me asylum. They could afford to help the Doc because he is a noncombatant. He’s not a great threat. I am. I am a weapon that Haines doesn’t dare let fall into anybody else’s hands. And everybody knows it. The nuclear treaty has already been broken. If Haines find out someplace has accepted me, he’ll bomb them. After Cuba took in The Progenitors nobody else is going to be willing to take the risk…I’m on my own. And as for Brian, I’m not ready to leave this planet yet. At least not like this. Go find him Jack. Tell him what happened. If I succeed, then maybe all this will vanish. Besides,” Arthur takes a long sigh, “I’m tired of running, I’m sick of being the enemy of the country I’ve dedicated my life to protect. This is my last chance here. I either succeed here, or nowhere.” <br> Jack’s voice came through, strangely small, “Are you sure there is no other way? I mean seriously dude, this is some major shit you’re about to start. Upsetting the balance of time for almost half a century, think about it. Are you ready for the consequences? *sigh* I guess there is no talking you out of this is there? All right, just one last thing though. I’m going to download all of the history to date. If you run into me in the past, give it to me. Maybe I can come up with something if I start sooner. Maybe you could kill Gaines. That would solve a lot. I mean it was when his Father joined up with Milos’ gang that he started hating us. Well, that and when his Father erupted and blew up all of Las Vegas. But I suppose that’s a no-go either isn’t it. You promised. Damn it! Of all the promises to choose to keep, why that one?” <br> “Because Jack, that’s all I have left to remember her.” Looking up he noticed the gas had crept closer. “Time to go Jack. Good luck. Tell Brian I said Hi.” With that Arthur squared himself in an Aikido stance and concentrated. “Time is like water,” Arthur said to himself, “it can flow around you and carry you away with it. But you can swim upstream if you are careful. Even standing still lets you move upstream to the water.” On the wall, a clock slowly ground to a halt. Then the hands start moving backwards. Slowly at first but then with increasing speed. Around him the room changed. People raced back and forth across the floor, sometimes through him. The room became less grubby and as he watched, entropy reversed itself. Faster and faster time whizzed backwards. Days, weeks, months, and eventually years. Sweat poured from Arthur’s face and strain and exhaustion radiated from every fiber of his being as he flowed from stance to stance, moving though katas as he waded through time. After what seemed like days for Arthur, he finally slowed down and laboriously pulled himself back into the timestream. He was so tired he could barely stand. The apartment was now new and nicely furnished. Probably not a good idea to stay. Staggering to the door, Arthur made it outside just as he heard stirring from the bedroom. It was still night out, and in the middle of summer. Fortunately there was a public park nearby and Arthur managed to make it as far as a bench before collapsing into unconsciousness. He was woken later by the sound of voices crying out in pain. He tried to bolt upright, but was still so exhausted that he barely was able to pull himself to a sitting position. In front of him were three young men in leathers facing against one man. I should try to help him thought Arthur. Three against one isn’t a fair fight. As he thought this, the lone man lashed out with a vicious kick that almost reversed one man’s kneecap, followed by an open palm shtuto strike to the throat of the second man and a snapkick to the groin of the third. That quickly it was over. As the men dragged themselves off the lone man came over to Arthur. As he passed under a park light he finally saw the face. Unable to stifle a gasp of surprise at what he saw. “Of course,” he thought, “I remember this night now.” The younger Arthur walked over with almost a swagger to his step, obviously proud of what he just did. “Here you go grandpa,“ he said, offering a couple of 20’s. “Go get yourself a hot meal; you look like you could use it.” With that he turned and walked away. <br> “Wow. Was I ever that arrogant?” The old Arthur thought. “How the hell did I eve survive? Well, at least I should be undisturbed for the rest of the night.” Barely upon finishing that thought, Arthur was back asleep on the bench. <br> <br> A week later and well rested, Arthur was ready to put his plan into action. He had tracked down Milos and had set up his ambush for when he left for the airport. Waiting for him to get on the freeway, he raced down the road alongside him, and with several deft slashes, cut both right tires of the limo he was riding in. Immediately the limo went out of control and crashed into the guardrail. Several other vehicles lost control as well and caused a grand pileup. Excellent. No casualties or major injuries. Only a massive tangle of cars that will take hours to clear up. Milos will not be able to make his flight now. Too be sure, Arthur stayed around and even helped extract people from their cars until the paramedics arrived. Once he was sure that Milos was not going to make his flight, he found a private nook off the road and unable to wait any longer to see the results of his handiwork pushed himself forward ten years. <br> He stopped in the year 2011 to grab a shower, shave, coffee, and a newspaper. The headlines shocked him deeper than anything he had ever seen before. “President Milos Wiazowski signs Super Terrorist registration and dehumanization act.” Officially it was an addendum to the renewed Patriot Act. This act allowed the Government to collect and “tag” any survivor of the flight 282 and if they determined that the individual was a threat, they could lose their status as a Homo Sapiens and therefore all human rights. After the mass breakout from a government facility almost six years earlier Congressman Wiazowski pushed hard to establish controls and restraints on these creatures. Now, as President, he had the power to accomplish this. As a result, in the next three months, seventy nine of the ST’s were killed, and twenty five were captured. Only seven turned themselves in to “voluntarily” work with the government. <br> “No…How could THIS have happened? Keeping Milos off the plane should have made things better. Obviously his hunger for power wasn’t just a product of the crash. I can’t let things stay like this. I’m going to have to try again.” <br> Stepping into an alley, Arthur concentrated. Again Arthur violated the natural laws of this world as he swam upstream against the flow of time. “No chances this time. I’m sorry Mandy, but this man is the enemy, no matter how we look at it, and he WILL be stopped.” Arriving back at Milo’s house, the night before the flight, Arthur made short work of Milos. There was no challenge to it. He was unaware that he had even been killed, much less who had struck him down. <br> As Arthur examined his handiwork he felt a strange tugging. Almost his will he felt himself being pulled forward in time. Not swiftly, but steadily time flowed past him once again, only this time in the other direction. After about twenty years he managed to get himself under control and bring himself back in sync with normal time. “Interesting, it seems that when I am too tired to concentrate, I start to slip back towards my native time. I’ll have to take care to keep under control.” Walking down the block Arthur approached a newspaper stand to see what changes had occurred. <br> The changes were more dramatic then he could believe. The whole neighborhood had changed. Always a plush area, the neighborhood had evidently improved several more notches. There was no litter, no vandalism, and people moved with a purposeful air. Arthur grabbed a paper from the stacks, and browsed the headlines. “So, what’s the cost?” He asked the vendor.
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| − | After getting his breath back, the tall man looked up at Arthur and croaked out, “My apologies sir, I wasn’t aware you were a fellow citizen.” All traces of arrogance gone from his voice. “Why didn’t you identify yourself? You know you have the free rights to do whatever you please here. And why were you trying to pay for the paper? It’s yours by right. What is your name? <br> Baffled and bemused y this barrage of information, Arthur could only answer truthfully. “My name is Arthur Redford, why?” The response could not have been greater if he had said he was God. <br> Immediately jumping to his feet and pulling himself into a painful salute, the man barked out in an almost military voice, “General Redford Sir!! I apologize for not recognizing you sir!! Please forgive me my impudence Sir!!” The shock of this recognition was too much for Arthur. He lost control of time and started sliding forward again. This time he managed to catch himself after only a couple years. He landed in the middle of a wasteland. It seemed as though the hand of God had come down and simply erased the whole city and the country as far as the eye could see. There was not a living soul anywhere. “I can’t believe this. Why is everything going so wrong? Why are we making such mistakes? I need to fix this. I need to make the future better.” And thus did Arthur launch his campaign to fix time. Dozens of times he went back and made changes. Dozens of times tragedy struck in ways Arthur was unable to possibly predict. By his reckoning, Arthur spent almost five years shifting back and forth between the same twenty five years, trying to undo the damage he had done. After his last attempt, one which almost resulted in the total erasure of all the Survivors, Arthur finally came to his senses. <br> “I can’t win. There is no better future that I can create. I need to let time progress as it was intended. I’ll have to undo all my meddling and step aside in history.” After traveling back one more time and intercepting himself from grounding the plane at the airport, Arthur hit upon a realization. He couldn’t change the future, but just maybe he could change his present. Allowing himself to relax and slide forward in time to several weeks after they all awoke from their comas, Arthur snuck into his own bedroom, and looked down at his own sleeping body, blissfully unaware of his future self’s presence. Speeding himself up to almost max speed, he told himself a tale. For the young sleeping Arthur, this story was told in the matter of one half of a second, yet for the elder, it seemed to last forever. It ended with an apology for his inability to solve this himself, and the cowardice of dumping the burden of this on him. He spoke with confidence that his younger self would find the way and do well. He ended with, “And that is the tale of one of your futures. Remember what might happen, and watch out. Don’t kid yourself, you only DO get one shot at this.” <br> <br> Arthur suddenly sat bolt upright in his bed. He had just had the weirdest dream. He had come back from the future and warned himself on an impending doom. There was something important that he had told himself, but he couldn’t remember. Weird dream. As Arthur started to lay back down to return to sleep, he noticed the curtains waving slightly in the wind…except that there wasn’t any wind tonight. The weather outside was a stale balmy 70 degrees. As he watched, the curtains drifted still. Must have just had a short breath of air a moment ago. Maybe that was what woke him up…yeah, that has to be it. I mean, actually coming back from the future to warn himself of danger? Ridiculous…right?
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