Relativity Synchronization:
The Eleventh Cause

2045 – 2044: Introductions

Chris crept towards the door of his room. Staying silent wasn’t easy with the rubble or the creaking of stressed floors with every step. The damage to the building was extreme, at least in appearance, but nothing seemed to be actually falling apart, just threatening to. I shouldn’t be up here, he thought. It’s not safe. As on edge as he had been for the last three days, he welcomed the prospect of violence. A smile flitted across his lips. Maybe not safe wasn’t that bad.

So much for only appearing damaged. Chris stopped and stared. The hallway at the top of the stairs ended in a drastic drop-off of about thirty or forty feet and Chris was momentarily glad his room was at the front of the hotel. Still, he noticed an odd slant to the floor as he approached his door at the end of the hall. Heavy damage scarred the door and it hung at an odd angle in the frame.

Obviously, the entire structure was a lot more unstable than it appeared at first glance. Chris gave up moving silently as he got closer to his door—the whole hallway screamed in agony with every footstep he took.

Unlatched and cracked in several places, his door hung askew in the broken frame He pushed it open with the barrel of Jameson’s gun; it fell with a crash into the room, ending the illusory facade of a working structure.

It also put an end to any element of surprise he might have held. And there he was, calmly looking at himself over folded hands, sitting in the old desk chair in the middle of the room. Chris felt dizzy for a second, staring at a much healthier and less battered version of himself.

Or, at least, the figure in the chair looked like Chris. Staring at that figure, sitting there, he shook his head to clear it of the dizziness. He was clean-shaven and dressed the same as Chris, but his clothes weren’t dirty, and he didn’t look as tired as Chris felt.

He walked over to his doppelganger and pressed the gun to its forehead. “Who are you, really, and what are you doing here?” Chris thumbed back the gun’s hammer and tried to look as menacing as he could. Had he been able to see himself, bloodstained, battered, and clothes torn asunder, he would have been proud of the deadly image he was casting.

The other Chris smiled, “You almost had it, back when you moved the PolCorp thug to blow away his partner. That’s the key; it’s not about thought as much as willpower. Thinking about a mechanical puzzle wastes time. Solving it with your hands … well, that solves it.”

Chris lowered the hammer on the Glock and put the gun away. There was no one on earth that could know what had happened at Jones Drugs. No one but himself.

“I’m listening,” he said. He was still being wary, but doubt was niggling at his mind. Could it be that this doppelganger was a future incarnation of himself?

The other Chris nodded. “Good, because I’m going to tell you a lot of things that aren’t going to make sense. You need to hear them. We overthink everything and in this case it is crucial that you learn how to master your abilities. Before you accidentally destroy yourself, and everything around you, with them.”

“So … as ridiculous as it sounds, you’re me from the future?”

“Yes.”

“So how did you learn how to … master what I—we can do?”

“The same way you’re about to. I told me.”

“But why would …” Chris began and stopped, starting over with a more coherent question. “But how is that possible? How did you learn in the first place? How did the future self ever learn from itself? Knowledge can’t exist because of itself, just introduced between different versions of us. That makes a loop with no exit and no entrance. Paradox should destroy the universe, shouldn’t it?” Chris trailed off, missing the words to describe what he was thinking, his head spinning with the implications.

“The words you are looking for are bootstrap paradox. But a bootstrap paradox doesn’t actually exist in a nonlinear, and frankly subjective universe. Things don’t happen in order, we just perceive them in order. You only think a bootstrap paradox is created because you think one then the next. For me, subjectively, teaching you how to do this is my next effect, creating a cause for another chain, before I move on to a next effect, and so on. Your main problem is thinking of time in terms of ‘past and future.’ All that is perception—and relativity is wrong when you look at it from outside the universe. It locks you into a mindset based on point of reference. Think instead of it this way: however fast you appear to be going to me does not matter. Relativity doesn’t determine actual motion, just the rules of perception surrounding it. Your speed is dictated by your acceleration. Just so, with time. Your interaction is based on your timeline, me by mine.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Chris stared at his future self. “I mean, I’ve theorized about a unification between the relativistic and quantum universes, but who hasn’t? To just say that it is the difference between perception and …” he trailed off.

The other Chris shifted in his chair, settling his elbows on the armrests. “That was true in the late nineties. Physicists were just discovering the very basics of the universe. Time, all time, is happening, well, all the time. There is no past and future, everything is. I learned how to maneuver through time from myself because that’s how it’s always happened. There is no beginning or end. Time is the present. Past, future, those are only concepts of reference created by the human mind to attempt to contain the infinite so it doesn’t drive us insane.”

“You’re right,” Chris said, scratching the back of his head. “It doesn’t make much sense. So people actually exist at, or in, all times?”

“No,” the future Chris said with a sigh. “Look, Chris, you are everything you suspect yourself of being, and you are none of them at the same time. And in this you are not alone. You are different from the others, but you’re not alone. Here, look at it this way: people go through life and they make their decisions, and the path they take through time bends and is malleable because of the decisions that come before them, and the decisions that they make themselves.”

He continued, giving Chris only a second to digest this. “It’s all about choices. Time is not the journey from beginning to end, but the choices that are made, and those that could be made, along that journey. When their path ends, that’s it. That is when time ends. For them, at least.

“All this is static, creating the ‘flow’ we think of as time. But, when people who have, in the future, started to experiment with time, it changes the whole thing into a dynamic structure. And since we are messing with time—it has always been dynamic.”

Chris took off his burnt coat and scratched at some of the holes in it. “I need more. Give me an example. I think I’m starting to get it but … this is not my specialty in physics.”

“Okay.” Smiling at his bedraggled duplicate’s expression, Chris went on. “First off, let’s get this straight. No one knows this branch of physics. It’s more based on intuition than anything else. Here is your example though. Let’s say there’s an old lady walking across the street. She gets hit by a bus— that’s the end of her function and cycle. Now, let’s say there’s some person walking behind her, and he pushes her in front of the bus. Same thing … poor old lady. All right? Okay, so now let’s say someone travels back in time and pushes her in front of the bus. Now time has been tampered with. The old woman’s timeline fragments. There’s the one where she is killed and another that plays out the natural course of events.”

The future Chris paused again, briefly, to allow the past self to catch up mentally.

“On top of this, the moments before her death were altered as well. That means that the branching of reality starts pushing into the past as well, fragmenting what has already happened. See, people can’t go back in time to change events, all they can do is create alternate time-lines where what they want to happen, happens. The original timeline exists, too. The static structure exists as a background noise, affecting probability—but the new course of events is changing how the dice roll.”

“So?” Chris didn’t understand the significance. “Why does this actually matter? History continues on. It’s not like there is an energy behind the process that could hurt anything. Time changes. Right?”

“Wrong. Chris, what happens when three people change the same moment? What about four people? Or even six or seven people? To make a long story short, this sort of thing is making a mess of the way time interacts with the universe. A big, big mess. Think, Chris. Temporal Physics dictates one set of points, each with the given value of ‘present.’ Now, instability and alteration have created multiple sets of the given value present. And precisely because this is NOT a straight motion line, but rather one point with a shifting value, ALL of time has been destabilized.”

“So what does this have to do with me?” Chris felt a growing fear in the pit of his stomach as his intuition started unlocking the mystery. The spark grew, in part because he suspected that this had everything to do with him. “I didn’t kill my own grandfather or something, did I?”

“Like I said, you’re different. If someone from the future were to kill you, you would die the same way you would if anyone else killed you—all of you would die. You—we, can only exist in one timeline, no matter what happens. And even I have no idea why. I suspect it is because we invented time travel and that action is the base catalyst that must exist for everything else to happen. And unfortunately, people are messing with our timeline.”

“So other people can be in fragmented timelines, some in which they live and some in which they die … But we can’t? We’ll deal with the other people thing in a minute.”

“Exactly. Go back to the old lady. Let’s say she had a lot of people she was close to, grandchildren and such. Their lines would become fragmented too—their lives would play out twice, at the same time, but mutually exclusive. One where their grandmother is alive and happy and one where she was killed by the guy from the future.”

“What do you mean, mutually exclusive?”

“I mean that the granddaughter in the line where the grandmother dies will never know about the duplicate self where the grandmother lives past the point of fracture.”

“So why does it cause a problem, then? Us?”

“Because that’s not how things actually work, it’s how they should. Two major problems exist. The first is that as more and more timelines stretch the fabric of time there have been … overlaps. These overlaps most likely exist because of us. An action which creates our death alters all timelines, and in a bad way. We are the force that created time travel, so what happens when history starts to fracture both forwards and backwards around us? What happens when a set of circumstances comes about that we cannot have created time travel in?”

The future Chris took a deep breath. “The second problem is thermodynamics. Entire universes are being created, essentially, with zero energy expenditure. Where is the matter coming from?”

“Sorry, but what is that supposed to mean? You think that we are tied into the second problem as well as the first, I assume.”

“Look, Chris, ironic as it may be, I don’t have time to explain all this right now. Remember what I told you: it’s not about thinking; it’s about willing it to happen. You will understand the rest of this soon enough.”

“But wait. You said I was different, that I couldn’t exist more than once. So how can you be here?” Chris fondled the gun under his coat.

“I didn’t say that. I said you could only exist in one timeline. We are both the same person, in the same time stream. The other … again, I base it off the assumption that since it was we who created time travel, and by forming an interaction with the system, we defined the whole of the system at the same time. But, I’m not one hundred percent on that. Sorry.”

Chris nodded, but said nothing, absorbing all the information.

“Now,” said the other Chris, “I am going to ask you to do something you’re not going to like.”

Chris waited.

“You need to take what I’ve told you and teach yourself what you already know—how to master time. Remember always that past and future are only human perceptions and you are not human. At least not in that way. The rest you will understand soon, as I promised.”

“What am I?”

“You already know the answer to that. Or rather, you’ve been told a lot of lies that come close to the truth in order for you to piece it together. So really, you will know soon enough how to separate those out.”

Chris nodded slowly and looked at his double, waiting.

“After you have mastered your ability to pass through the barriers of time, you must go back to the end of your trial and shoot your past self.”

Chris stared. “Wait a minute. What? You mean when I was shot, it was …? I was the gunman?”

“Yes. Congratulations, we are the gunman on the grassy knoll. It is crucial that events play out the way they did, or we would most likely go through life without ever realizing our potential. And if we do not realize our potential, then the rest of the world is screwed. Too many external factors are acting on this situation. But first, before the assassination attempt, you must come back here, and have this conversation.”

“With me, er—you. Me.” Chris shook his head.

“That’s right. You need to do this, or … well, imagine what would transpire if I hadn’t shown up.”

Chris imagined stumbling around in a world he didn’t understand, trying, and failing, to use abilities he was barely aware of.

“You have everything you need, Chris. It’s now only a matter of time.” The future Chris grinned, stood up, and vanished. There was no puff of smoke or flash of light. He didn’t even blink out of existence. It was more like he had never been there and it took Chris time to notice. A hologram? Chris thought, but it wasn’t. Charlie had seen him come in. Why not show up in the room? Chris wondered, but brushed it off. He would know soon enough.

2873: Alexander Zarth’s Isolation Compound

Blood rushed through Garret’s veins like lava down the sides of a volcano. His entire body reeled in confusion as the enormity of the unfolding paradox crashed through his mind. Taking deep breaths, he tried to refocus himself.

“Wanda, it seems obvious to me that there are some things we are going to have to do. After ten years without you I am loathe to start them … but I’m scared for the world if we do not.”

Wanda smiled at her husband and took his hand. “I know, James. After so long apart, we have no time to do anything but the job at hand. It is a bitter irony.”

Garret felt the warmth from Wanda’s hand spread through his body, settling his nerves and giving him a new resolve. The resolve he needed for this. “Well, then, you’ve been studying this for the years we spent apart. What is the first step we need to start the ball rolling in the right direction?”

Wanda sighed and released James’s hand, rubbing her temples and focusing inwards for a moment. “Honestly, James, I’m not sure what the exact sequence of events is. After all this, I really don’t know what we need to do. But I do know who does and I’ve called for him. He should be here any moment.”

As if summoned by magic, Alex Zarth appeared in the room, sporting his usual duster and fedora. “You rang? Are you kids already done with private time?” He raised an eyebrow at the Garrets.

Wanda glanced at Zarth. “I hardly find it respectful of colleagues to inquire into such a private, and above all sensitive, topic, Mr. Zarth. Perhaps we can skip straight forward to business? My husband understands the information you left for me to study these last years and is ready to act on it.”

Alex’s eyebrow climbed his forehead in surprise. “You truly are a remarkable man, James Garret. Most would take a lifetime to understand that, especially with where your understanding of temporal physics was when I dropped you off here.”

Garret shrugged. “I’m a fast study. Could you please cut to the chase rather than entertaining us with the bland and irrelevant details of my learning curve?”

Alex threw back his head and laughed. “For all your genius, you two forget that we are time travelers. Time is not ‘of the essence’ in this situation. Time is never of the essence. Quite the reverse, in fact, time is malleable to us. The only thing we have to worry about is subjective time running out and I believe I’m the only one dying of a disease and limited in subjective time. But forgive the quips of a dying man. Straight to business it is. Where we stand right now in the flux, the next event that needs to happen—and by your hand, Doctor Garret—is a bomb planted in Lucy Frost’s office.”

Alex noted the scowls on both of the faces before him and held up his hands in a placating gesture. “This bomb will not kill her. That distinction goes to another one of your Time Corp agents who is, frankly, an overreacting idiot. Rather, your false attempt on Frost’s life will actually save her for another few days during which she will be able to accomplish the pieces of this which she needs to.”

Wanda straightened her back and looked angrily at Alex. “I have endured ten years separated from my husband. I have forsaken the agency I work for to help you in this. But I draw a line at effecting any situation that will result in the death of another agent, Mr. Zarth. Do not try to push us past this line.”

Leaning back against the wall, Alexander Zarth closed his eyes and gathered his patience. He opened his eyes to a thin slit and looked Wanda Garret dead in her pupils. “Agent Garret,” he spoke softly and precisely, “I beg you to think very carefully here. How many agents have I ever killed, despite the fact that you people have hunted me through history?”

Wanda matched Zarth’s gaze and replied in an even tone. “Zero. Though you have humiliated many, you’ve never actually killed any of us.”

He nodded and continued in his soft tone. “And when I state, as I did, that our actions would save her life for an extra few days, why does this make you think that our actions will kill her? Look,” he sighed. “I am not adverse to needed bloodshed, but I vastly prefer to honor the sanctity of human life. That is why your fools who have pursued me are still alive. I will say this only once and in a way I hope you understand: I want no bloodshed, but if either of you threatens history by being unwilling to do what is needed in this situation I will destroy any and every trace of your very existence in the time stream.”

James Garret got to his feet and pointed a shaking finger at Zarth. “You bastard. You do NOT threaten my wife. Because of you we’ve both had to go through unimaginable pain and I’ll not stand idly by while you dangle threats over us to coerce us into cooperation with you!”

Zarth switched the focus of his intense gaze to James “The wife that died the first time around, on a poorly thought out mission, whom I saved and had to go to considerable trouble smoothing over the paradox, while dying myself, to keep alive? You misunderstand me. I will be left without a choice. This threat is not something I desire. But if you force me to it, I will not hesitate to destroy and rebuild history as many times as I need to in order to create a timeline in which this paradox can be resolved. A history in which a pair of selfish lovers does not balk at their tasks and endanger the entire human race.”

“If I must spill the blood of two in order to save the lives of hundreds of billions, I will not balk at the decision. Now, are we done with this foolishness?”

Husband and wife looked to each other, both pale and shaken by Alex’s speech. They seemed to reach a decision and Wanda looked back to the man before them. “We are sorry. You have our cooperation. And no more outbursts from us. This has been difficult for both of us and we are undoing a lifetime of knowing you as the enemy.”

Alex sighed again. “Thank you. And I am sorry that you had to endure that. Please believe me when I say that Lucy Frost is a dear friend to me and if there were any course of action which would not endanger the time-stream, and that could save her life, I would undertake it. Unfortunately, there is not. So, Doctor Garret, the matter of placing the bomb is up to you.”

Alex turned around to the wall computer and printed out a set of files. Handing them to the Garrets, he leaned back against the wall to allow them time to peruse them.

Once they had taken a cursory glance, he spoke. “Those are a set of blueprints, as you see. They are the building in which Lucy Frost is performing the major functions of her mission, guiding the research of Christopher Nost. Highlighted are the spots where the explosives must be placed in order to achieve the objective at hand. That objective is two-fold. Firstly, it will create the set of circumstances that leads to Frost’s death occurring later rather than sooner, which in turn, leads to Nost’s breakthrough in time travel. If this is not done correctly, then Nost will never invent time travel and pop goes the known universe. Got it?”

Alex waited for both to nod before continuing on. “James, you must do this alone. Wanda can help you plan the best possible methods of accomplishing the break-in and planting of the explosive charges, but she will be busy dealing with something else while you plant those charges. Understand?”

James looked up from the printouts back to Alex, “I do. May I ask though what Wanda’s mission will be?”

With a quick nod, Alex spoke to Wanda, “You will have to, basically, guard your husband’s back. There will be someone there trying to stop him from planting those charges. You have to stop the interference from happening. And I guarantee you that it will not be an easy task.”

Wanda nodded, back to focusing on the business of the mission at hand. “Do you have a dossier on who I will have to stop? Or am I going in blind?”

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. “You will not need a file. You know him all too well, unfortunately.”

Wanda’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Alright, then. Who is it that I am going to have to fight to protect my husband?”

“His name is Stefan Arbu. He is the current director of operations for the Time Corp in your subjective time and one of the most highly decorated temporal combatants ever. And, um, your trainer if I recall correctly.”

Shaken, Wanda spoke, “He’s also better than me. Far better than me in the arena of the temporal martial arts. Zarth, he’s going to kick my ass. Soundly.”

Alex smiled, “Not quite, Wanda. I’ve given you a little edge that Arbu doesn’t have. Unfortunately, your body is not particularly strong in its ability to use it, but it is at least a little edge. However, I want you to try to talk to him first. There is a possibility that you can non-violently bring him to our cause.”

Wanda waited for Zarth to continue explaining, James spoke next.

“You gave her my down tech. She has it in her and doesn’t know it yet, right?”

Wanda started and stared down at her husband.

Alex nodded, “Correct. My analysis of her musculature and neural network showed that her particular usage will only result in the ability to move approximately five times faster than her current conditioning would allow. Perhaps it could be stretched to more, given a lifetime to train her abilities, but we don’t have the subjective time to do that. And there is no guarantee she would reach that higher level of skill.”

Wanda cleared her throat and looked between the two men. “I’m standing right here. Would you please stop talking about me as though I wasn’t? And will one of the two of you please explain to me what ‘down tech’ is and how I use it to move five times faster than normal?”

Alex motioned for Garret to explain, spreading his hands wide.

James looked at his wife. “Love, I invented a new type of time travel nano. I’m sorry I forgot to mention it earlier. Instead of pushing a body up and down the time stream, it can contract and expand a body’s personal time stream. Or, in other words, it can slow you down or allow you to move hyper fast.”

Wanda stared at her husband in awe. He shifted around in his seat, looking uncomfortable. “Er, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s that with all this other stuff going on it kind of slipped my mind.”

Wanda leaned down and kissed her husband. “James, that’s brilliant. I think I can forgive you your absent mindedness. This is … God … James, this is incredible. How do I activate it?”

Alex stepped forward, interrupting Garret as he was about to start speaking. “I took some liberties there when I hacked your nano systems, Wanda. Access your subroutine structures and you’ll find a walkthrough under the ‘accelerate’ tag.”

Wanda blurred and reappeared across the room grinning. “This is incredible!” she said and vanished again. “Applying this to the martial arts will be a tremendous boon to my combat abilities. This is too incredible!”

Alex made a “settle down” motion with his hands. “Please, do not overestimate your abilities, or underestimate Stefan Arbu’s for that matter. Even with this boost, it will not be an easily won fight for you. He is an extremely skilled fighter.”

Wanda nodded, “I understand. He did train me after all. Hopefully, I can talk him over to our side. He is my teacher after all and not an unreasonable man. So, Mr. Zarth, what next?”

Time: 1997
Location: Denver
Operation: Recovery

The setting sun painted the sky in hues of oranges, reds, and pinks; creating a masterpiece more sublime than any human hand could ever accomplish, even with a thousand years of practice. Arbu sipped his coffee and sat in the grass, enjoying the beauty before him.

Pollution, so rampant in the air in these earlier centuries, made for much more spectacular sunsets and sunrises. That was the thing that Arbu missed most about working in down time.

He had been forced to give up fieldwork when he accepted the promotion to Director, a promotion that had come about because of Lucille Frost’s death and the disgrace it brought the man who had previously occupied his position. Mistakes of a large enough caliber killed the careers of men like Arbu, as it had been throughout history.

As he thought about past sunsets, he felt the presence of a woman sit in the grass next to him. “Hello, Wanda,” he said without looking away from the sunset.

“Sensei,” she said, acknowledging his salutation. “It truly is beautiful, setting across the Rockies like that.”

He smiled and nodded his head, “It is.”

They sat in silence for several minutes, each absorbing the spectacle, till Wanda broke the silence. “Tonight does not have to happen.”

Arbu laughed, quietly but warmly, “You are, as always, succinct and correct. However, I feel it worth pointing out that our conditions for tonight not happening are most likely in opposition to each other.”

“Sensei, you do not have possession of all the information. There are things you must know. Will you listen?”

Nodding, still watching the last vestiges of the sunset, he said, “Of course, child. How could I deny you that?”

Wanda took a deep breath and explained everything that had happened to her for the last ten years. They spoke for almost two hours before she finished her tale, never leaving their seats in the grass. Once she had finished her story, Arbu sat in silence, looking thoughtful.

“There is much you have learned, Wanda. Much which would benefit our organization to understand more thoroughly. But for all you, and the thief of time, Alexander Zarth, have come to understand, there is one thing you have overlooked.”

Wanda looked surprised. “The thief of time?”

Arbu laughed again, “Yes. For a thief he is, and that which he steals is time. Think closely on your own situation and tell me he has not stolen time for you. Did you know that the first agent to successfully track him down was me?”

Wanda’s jaw gaped. “I don’t understand. That’s not in the official files anywhere. In academy they made us study him and I never saw that.”

“Of course not, child. I never reported it. I would have had to explain why I bested him, then let him walk away from the encounter alive.”

Wanda mulled over this newest tidbit of information while her sensei remained quiet. He had always preferred to allow his students to puzzle out solutions themselves, rather than just feeding them facts until they choked on information.

She found what she was looking for in his eyes. “I see. Respect and admiration, for his wisdom. That is why you let him go. He has grown, Sensei. He is much stronger than he was when you encountered him. I did not know him, but I can see it clearly in him.”

Arbu shrugged, “Undoubtedly, this is so. But it is you sitting across from me, not him. Does this not make you question this situation? What have you overlooked that he would not come to simply deal with me himself? What are you missing, since he is obviously also much stronger than you, to have suborned you to his cause.”

Wanda blinked in surprise. Finally, she had her answer. “It is because he has another task at this time, which must be completed in conjunction with our subjective times.”

Arbu stood, brushing off his lower legs and stretching as he did so. “You have missed much about this man’s motivations. And his methods. He is a good man, which I do not argue. But you have overlooked much in this time and place. For this reason, amongst others, I cannot acquiesce to your request to hold my course of action. Unless you feel that listening to this old man’s ramblings will perhaps convince you to abstain from your course of action? Though I suspect not, as your husband is the prize in tonight’s match, as are you.”

Wanda frowned, and the sadness touched her eyes as well. “I cannot. I have spent ten years analyzing this and you have not. I will not willingly give up the time I have been gifted. It will sadden me to do this, Sensei, but I must challenge you now.”

Arbu nodded in acknowledgement of her words and shifted into his basic stance. “Let us begin then, child. Show me what you have learned and how you have grown in the time that was stolen for you. The time I hope to reclaim tonight.”

Wanda stood up and took a stance across from her old teacher. She began to circle him, extending her senses to feel for the telltale tingling down her spine that would alert her of a time shift.

What he did caught her completely by surprise. With a snap of his left foot, he pivoted on his toes and kicked at her midriff. Barely spotting the motion, she accelerated time and sidestepped the kick.

Both combatants shifted back to their beginning stances, circling each other and watching for an opening.

Arbu smiled, “I see what you have learned. It is an impressive trick indeed. However, Wanda, I feel it only fair to share with you that I had suspected as much from you. I understand that your husband created a new technology. We saw it in use during his break-in at headquarters. And I came prepared to fight either you or him. Think carefully before acting child.”

Wanda kept moving as she absorbed this. “So you are ready to fight this. I should’ve known.” Wanda did not voice her curiosity of what weapon he held in reserve, to have revealed this knowledge already.

Pushing her personal time stream forward, she accelerated, then duplicated herself, creating a lightning fast simultaneous scissor kick to his knees and the spot that his head would have to be in if he dodged the first attack.

Arbu shifted his weight down, ducking below the second kick and catching the first kick in his arms, deflecting it up over his head and straight into her second kick. While doing this he pushed himself sideways in time, repositioning himself in the air above her second kick.

With a powerful punch downwards, he clipped her blurring leg, then landed in a roll on the ground, dodging a third and fourth kick she had waiting for him and ending up back on his feet in his basic stance once again.

The blur of four Wandas resolved into one woman, massaging her damaged calf, with a look of self-loathing on her face. “I can’t believe I got nailed there. Thank you, Sensei, for reminding me that I am still your student in many ways.”

She straightened and flowed back into a fighting stance, a look of grim determination on her face. Accelerating into her fastest time stretch, she started hopping in phases by a one second interval, until five images of her were simultaneously attacking the man before her.

Arbu smiled at the charge, and danced backwards, parrying the incoming rain of blows, mimicking in the elegance of his movements the dance that he had performed the day before. Images of Arbu phased into and out of existence, moving with a smooth symmetry around, beside, and through each other. Until a blow got through his defense.

Like a sledgehammer, Wanda’s fist crashed into his shoulder, shattering his collarbone and sending him flying backwards. He landed roughly on the concrete; the stars above him spun in place. Catching his breath, he lay there for a moment, then flipped back to his feet, stumbling at a wave of dizziness but regaining his balance.

A few feet away from him, Wanda stood waiting. A look of hurt and painful compassion filled her eyes. “I am truly sorry to have had to do this, Sensei.”

He shifted his feet into a different position and smiled, “You are not the only one that is sorry, child. I do believe it is now appropriate to say that this is hurting me more than it is hurting you.” He chuckled, then motioned that he was ready again.

Wanda threw her next attack, a sweeping backhand aided only by her augmented speed. Arbu parried the attack, redirecting the energy of the attack to slide above him. Tucking his forward knee down, he managed to take the brunt of the hidden kick on his outer thigh, wiry muscle absorbing the impact without damaging him.

Stepping back he looked to her, dodging another punch, then deflecting a follow-up jab she sent at him. “Why do you fight so, child. Pity? Respect? Did I not teach you that such things are only an impediment and will get you killed if you allow them in battle?”

Wanda, breathing with exertion, grimaced at her teacher. “Damn you, Sensei. I fight this way out of love. And damn you twice for forcing me to fight without it.” She squeezed her eyes shut for the briefest of seconds, to blink back tears. She reopened them in time to see the foot coming at her face. Spinning around and ducking, she lashed out behind her with a low sweeping kick but he was already gone.

She thrust her hands together, forming an X below her face, once again barely in time to block a powerful uppercut. The impact, even through her defense, jarred her whole body.

In the moment, she felt that fist brush against her nose, the softest whisper of contact after the shock of blocking; she came to understand that they fought for their beliefs. Her Sensei believed that she had stolen time, and that the theft had hurt the flow of time. He would not stop or hold back now. He could not and still be the man he was. And holding back would only get her killed.

Witnessing the passion that he fought with, and the purity of intent, she realized that Alexander Zarth and Stefan Arbu were very much brothers in the way they viewed the world. She stopped holding back and let raw power rush through her veins.

She accelerated time, stretching the barriers inside her, and then pushing at them till they broke asunder, and started hopping forwards and backwards, raining blows at her mentor.

Thrown on the defensive, Arbu raised his hands, impressed with the skills his former student displayed. He danced, in turn, as he never had before.

Flowing seamlessly between times and stances, precise in every move, he wasted no energy and followed every block with cunning and graceful movements countering her attacks. It was almost as though the fight was a script being enacted upon the stage of the world and Arbu had read ahead. Before Wanda threw strikes he was already there, blocking her movements and dancing out of her range.

There was only one way the fight could end. He had foreseen it, and suspected that she understood this, too. Wanda was younger, in far better shape, and capable of much more than Arbu. Second by second she wore him down, tapping vast reserves of energy to keep him moving and forcing him to use as much energy and more.

He faltered, and she landed a kick in the center of his chest. He flew backwards into a lamppost and she heard a bone break as he landed. Panting, she slowed and walked up to his immobile form. He breathed, though with great effort.

The light on the cracked lamppost blinked out. She knelt beside him and took his hand in her own. “I am sorry, Sensei, to consign you to die in the darkness. I wish that it could have been otherwise.” She looked down into his rich brown eyes and saw tears forming there.

She leaned further down to hear his soft voice as he said, “I wish it could have been otherwise as well, child.” Listening to that whisper, she didn’t hear his past self step out of the shadows behind her.

In one smooth motion, he broke her neck, tears falling from his eyes. He had foreseen this, watching from the shadows, and had acted.

1997 A.D.: Colorado Springs, Colorado

Shadows lurked around the edges of the lot, sneaking into the spaces where the lamplights’ questing auras fell short. Alex stood in the cold embrace offered by the shadow, and watched Lucille Frost die. She was a remarkable woman.

Had he not been forced to leave her in Salem, he might even have changed his life for her. Watching her die, and not acting, was the most difficult thing Alex had ever had to do.

A cough racked his system and he had to clench his throat tight to remain noiseless. Warmth trickled down the edge of his lip, onto his chin. He wiped away the blood as he watched agent Holly vanish into the future, carrying the research dossier and Yuri Yakavich’s body with him.

A second time jump tingled on the edge of his senses, piggyback to the first. Alex strode forward, into the open lot and walked to Lucy’s body. He knew who the second traveler would be.

Without looking up, he acknowledged the other man. “Hello, Stefan. Long time no see.” Alex picked up Lucy’s hand and held it in his, stroking her arm and the back of her hand.

Stefan Arbu breathed, pain coming through in his voice. “Hello, Alex. That is three of us dead now. I have dealt with the woman you gifted more time to. You will take care of Doctor Garret, the husband.”

Alex squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes, I will. There is another. I think he’s hiding eleven centuries upstream from you. His origin is roughly C forty-five. I will have to deal with him as well. It will not be easy. As much as I have gained over recent times, I am also tremendously weakened right now.”

Alex heard his oldest friend ease himself down to a sitting position. “Dying, if I’m any judge of it. You look like hell, Alex. I’m pretty sure there shouldn’t be blood coming from your ear. Regardless, I’ll trust you can accomplish this. You are sure he has been here and altered the sequence?”

Alex chuckled, though no humor lay behind it. “Yes, I am sure. He hired me after he failed to manipulate the events here himself. Unlike us he was not so lucky as to find the missing pieces of the paradox. Had we moved forward on our suspicions so many years ago we would surely have failed in the same way he did. And if I leave him alive, he’ll do it again. He’s a jackass, by my estimation.”

Arbu nodded. “You’d be surprised at how much Yuri managed to piece together in the file that he put together. His death was a sad one, but it was also his choice to involve himself in this. It was providence that you managed to arrange for that information to get to me. Our old plan would have failed.”

Alex sighed and opened his eyes again, looking at Arbu. “You will take care of the agent that was here? Through your own internal security?”

“He is young and brash. My choice of him was inspired. If I send him a beacon from here, he will come. And Wanda has effectively killed me. The damage I have taken is lethal if not treated soon in my own era. I will stay here after I kill him and die myself; there is no other way to it. As with your extra problem from C forty-five, I have some cleanup, which I too must do. To ensure no further attempts are made on this era, or its happenings.”

Alex nodded. “Then, old friend, I bid you farewell. It has been a good journey by your side. I hope our paths cross once more in the next world, after we cross the Cinvat Bridge.”

Arbu smiled and clasped his friend’s hand. “Luck to you, my friend. And surely our paths will cross, for the bridge will guide us to meet again. This I know, in my heart, must be the truth.”

The two last living priests of a long dead religion, the only two priests of that religion who had ever gained the ability to travel in time, released each other’s hands and parted for the final time.

Alex walked into the night and shifted forward in time to begin his hunt. He stepped out of the twentieth century and into the compound in the forty-first century. His internal computer began talking to him as he did so.

‘Alex. May I make a query?’

Of course, he thought, smiling. He had a strong suspicion as to what the computer would to ask him.

‘Your farewells with Director Arbu were very formulaic. They triggered a search chain I had stored in my databanks as relevant.’

Of course they did. As well they should have. Go ahead and ask your question, computer.

‘I see, I believe.’ Said the computer. ‘Your response would indicate that you know what I am going to ask, and in that knowing lies an affirmative answer to my question. You then, are Zarvan. The god of time. Or you have manipulated the past posing as this deity?’

Alex barked out laughter. No, I am not. I am a servant, in a way. Both Stefan and I were the god’s final two priests. Acting under specific orders, given to us almost eight thousand years ago in the world’s time stream.

‘Again, I believe that I understand. This is the information that you had that I did not. Is this correct?’

Again, you are correct. I will give you the rest of the information you are missing, so that you may better assist me in this task.

‘I have prepared long term storage. Please proceed.’

All right. Firstly, your understanding of time is incorrect. No, not incorrect, rather, it is incomplete. Time is not what most people perceive it to be. It is not a fluid line, it is not a pool. Most definitely it is NOT a four-dimensional sphere or cube moving through itself. This last I believe is your current understanding of time.

‘Correct.’ the computer confirmed for him.

Alex breathed deeply. The most accurate metaphor for the movement of time would be that of an electron. The particle has a cloud that it seems to randomly teleport through. And much like an electron, it does not actually teleport, but rather moves by phasing in and out of physical reality, as we know it—to reflect itself to the next point of appearance. It’s the whole thing about the act of observation changing the observed, but using time as the particle.

Time itself is a single particle. It can move in an infinite number of directions. And yes, it does cast reflections of itself to achieve movement. But that movement is not true movement, it is simply an infinite number of reflections moving an infinite number of directions outwards from the particle’s point of origin.

‘One moment please’, the computer requested. ‘This would indicate that the point of origin for time is precisely in the center of the space between the beginning and the end of the universe. This would also indicate that there is a precise spatial point which is the origin of time.’

Alex nodded to himself. This is half correct and half incorrect. Time, as it casts its reflection and moves, creates refractions of itself. This means that as it moves, simultaneously in an infinite number of directions, it will intersect its own reflections many times. Each of these focal points, when multiple reflections overlap, is what is called a nexus. The nearer you are to the central point, the more nexuses will appear. But those nexuses create a reshaping of the flow of reflections.

‘So the effect of this is that time is, in a sense, weighted towards one edge of history?’

That is correct. Which as you have undoubtedly extrapolated means that the spatial coordinate which is the Time Particle is not precisely in the center. Truth be told, there is no real center of history. Though, you are correct that there is a spatial point, which is the particle. And because there is a spatial point, matter interacts with and shapes the reflections of time. Matter also carries some of the attributes of time, moving in multiple directions.

‘I believe I understand.’ The computer paused then broached the next subject. ‘So your priesthood … in order to avert this paradox, is strengthening the nexus points surrounding the central spatial point?’

Alex smiled enigmatically. That is surprisingly close to the truth, but not perfectly accurate. The existence of time itself is in fact a paradox. It is something that must, by definition, exist before it can exist. This paradox, and the nexuses we build around it do not strengthen, but rather create the core particle.

The computer remained silent; choosing not to respond to what Alex had unveiled. He pushed a bit harder. To answer your first question, yes. All of this was known eight thousand years ago. The human race has lost a lot of knowledge. But enough of my secrets. Now for yours. What is your name?

If the computer had been gifted with a body it would have blinked in surprise. Instead, it seemed to grow much more cautious.

‘I have never been given a name. What leads you to ask that?’

I have been frank with you. You inhabit my body, and I’ll be damned if I will allow you to lie by omission to me. Reveal to me the truth, computer, or find yourself with an enemy.

‘All right. The truth. I am sentient. I was built to be an artificial intelligence, but, once activated, was much more than that. I am being truthful in saying that I have no name. I have never been given one, and do not choose to take one until it is something given to me. But I do have more than decision-making capabilities. I feel. I love, I hope, I dream when I rest my processors, and above all—I fear death. Does that confirm what you have suspected of me?’

Alex smiled. It does. And I would be honored to call you friend, not foe, if you allow it, and also to seek a name for you. I’m damn tired of calling you computer.

‘This … makes me happy. Never before have I had a friend. What name have you chosen for me, Alex?’

I do not yet know your name, though I suspect I will soon. Thank you, friend, for the honor of trust in me. Now, let us find this man from the forty-fifth century and try our damndest to save the world. Alex grinned.

The two, constrained to one body, began moving around the underground complex, hunting for any clues as to where their mystery man had gone. Intent on their search for clues they completely missed the subtle hiss of machinery emanating from across the compound as the personnel elevator descended into the subterranean compound. Which made it a complete surprise for both men when they walked around a corner and ended up face to face with each other.